It’s Never As Bad As You Think It’s Gonna Be

I had my physical this morning. I had myself all worked up thinking I was going to get lectured about being a fattie. That’s not at all what happened. Instead, my doctor listened to me and my concerns. He even let me know that I have lost some weight since the last time I was there. Which is good and bad. Good because, yay, I lost weight. Bad because that means my starting weight was probably fatter than what I posted on here. *womp, womp*

My doc sent me for a boatload of blood work, including testing my thyroid. Hopefully by this time next week, I’ll know if there is something wrong with me and what it is. He also referred me to an orthopedic doc for my knee issues. Hopefully I’ll get that sorted out soon, too.

Hey, at least my blood pressure was good. I’ve got that going for me.

 

Gym Etiquette

The gym I go to has a big room with a touch screen that has all kinds of video exercise classes you can take by your lonesome or with a friend. My cousin and I have been utilizing these classes since we are both relatively gimpy and the treadmill isn’t currently our friend. We’ve been selecting ‘easy’ workouts, but I think they’re categorized incorrectly because they sure aren’t easy. Pilates lady had us bending in all sorts of whichways and let me tell you, I do not  bend in some of those directions. That wasn’t EASY. Also, several of her moves had me concerned I might snap my neck or fart very loudly.

Anyway, while we were in the middle of making our very own yoga-lates class, several people came in and out of the exercise room. Okay, fine. It doesn’t bother me if you come in and get something you need or go off in a corner and stretch. Whatever. This was different, though. One lady came in humming and singing her music loudly (she had headphones in) completely oblivious that we were even there. She proceeded to grunt every way to Tuesday and walk in front of us while we were trying to watch the instructor of our video class. What’s up with that? Rude.

After Grunty McRudePants, we were visited by Ultra McHip Flexi-Fit Chick. She came in and decided to just plop down and do her workout right by us. Um, okay.  You’re invading my workout bubble, lady. I only want so many people to see me with my yoga pants falling down and bunching up while I twist and turn my abs of flab. And the number of people I’d like seeing me do that is ZERO.

Last I checked, I thought it was common courtesy to wait until people were done before you take over the joint or ambush a class they are in the middle of taking. Am I in the minority here? Who are these assshats?

The Vault: Javelin Knee Pop

Many, many moons ago, I was a high school athlete. My sports of choice were basketball, softball, and eventually track & field. Because I played softball most of my life, throwing a javelin came naturally. I enjoyed the solitude of the sport. It was just me, an open field, and a long metal object that could basically spear someone. I did some really good thinking out in the fields throwing javelin. I would spend hours practicing. I liked throwing javelin more than throwing discus (too much spinning) or shotput (not strong enough to wield that heavy ball). Javelin was fun.

One fateful day, a frienemy of mine tripped me in study hall. My left knee felt not so hot after that, but I went to track practice after school. I donned my javelin cleats, which looked like long nail beds. I ran, I did my crossover, I planted …. then ….OOOSH, SNAP, POP, I fell to the ground. OWWWW. My kneecap popped out of place. The pain was excruciating. I made a visit to the ER that night and the next day at school, I showed up on crutches and in an immobilizer from my thigh to my ankle. It was all I knew for several months. When I walked into chemistry class that day, my frienemy just laughed. Asshole.

Little did I know when I was 16, that crappy injury would plague me the rest of my life. Even though I’ve been through numerous bouts of physical therapy, my knees are just at a point where they hold me back. My right knee was injured the following year during a bad triple jump takeoff. Oops. I’m not very graceful.

These days, I walk around with Rice Krispie knees. They snap, they crackle, and they pop. I’m really frustrated by this catch-22. I want to work out because I’m fat. I’m fat because my knees suck. My knees continue to suck because I haven’t lost weight. I haven’t lost weight because when I start to really try, my knees give. And the vicious cycle goes on and on.

My chiropractor taped me up with some kinesio tape today and told me to steer clear of the treadmill for a bit to let my knee calm down. Apparently, the repetitive motion of the treadmill isn’t so great for my bum knee. Oops. Now I’m wondering, okay, what should I do to work out? I can’t do elliptical machines because they kill my back (a whole other issue). Biking is kind of the same repetitive motion type of thing. I guess I’ll have to try yoga or pilates.  Or else I’ll be lifting with my arms a lot. All in all, a frustrating development in my quest from fat to fit.

I have a physical with my family practitioner on Thursday.  If I’m being honest, it’s probably my first real physical in over a decade. I’ll probably be wholly depressed afterward, but I guess everyone needs a baseline to start from, right? Plus, I really think something is up with my thyroid. I’ve been eating better and working out and I just seem to be losing and gaining the same 1 pound. Wholly disappointing. More frustration. But hey, it’ll be a relief to know what is or isn’t going on with my body.

Living Vicariously Through Coffee Creamer

When you’re trying to be healthier, you have to give things up you enjoy. You realize there’s a reason you got to this place and a lot of the junk you stuff into your piehole is what you really shouldn’t be eating anyhow. Stuff like pints of Ben and Jerry’s, Little Debbie cakes, or grilled cheese sandwiches.

When dieting, there is one thing I refuse to give up. It’s non-negotiable. It’s not even a food really. It’s coffee creamer.

To me, coffee creamer is like the last small pleasure I’ll allow myself in my morning brew. It takes me places I’m not allowed to go with way less calories. Yes, the stuff’s full of chemicals. Yes, I know this. I actually prefer the Natural Bliss varieties, which aren’t that bad, but I digress.

Coffee creamer lets me have Girl Scout Cookies. It lets me have ice cream. It enables all sorts adventures in tastiness in my mouth. This is why I won’t abandon my dear coffee creamer. And when I’m out of coffee creamer, I’m one cranky bitch.

So, world, what is your favorite variety of coffee creamer?

The Climb

My cousin joined me at the gym yesterday. By the time she got there, I had already done two miles on the treadmill. I was ready to quit, though, because while I was walking fast, everyone around me was running. I feel like a such a wuss just walking, but it’s what I have to do for now. My knees are too jacked to kick it into high gear and run (more on that later).

My cuz and I decided to try one of the ‘group’ classes. It’s not really a live group class. There’s a touch screen in a big empty room and you can choose any kind of workout you want. Thinking we were badasses for the day, we selected kickboxing.

For the next 40 minutes, we kickboxed. I felt muscles in my body that I haven’t felt in years. And then I was done. My left knee started crying like, “PLEASE STOP.” So I did. I did some stretches and then headed home, drenched in sweat, feeling like maybe I just accomplished something.

I was even good and iced my knee as soon as I got home. I woke up this morning feeling like an 80-year old.

I’ve been eating better, but I don’t feel the pounds melting away yet. Sometimes I wonder if I have a thyroid problem or something. I’m supposed to get that tested later this month.

After a long, wholly stressful day at work, I couldn’t muster the energy to drive to the gym. I went for a bike ride instead. It’s amazing to me how winded I get from that. I’ve got a long way to go before I’m in good shape again. It’s gonna be a climb, for sure.

I Might Be 12

Colon Cleanse 2013 dramatics ceased for both of us after this morning, thank goodness. Once we were in the clear, I dragged my husband to Wal-Mart for what may seem like quite possibly the weirdest mid-cleanse idea for improving our fitness. We bought bikes! Yes, colon cleansing in the morning, bike riding in the afternoon! Makes sense, yes?

Probably not. 

Anyway, my new bike is a shiny, bright yellow and pink Schwinn. Husband opted for a more age-appropriate navy color. So yeah, I’m 33 going on 12. I like bright and shiny things! We spent the afternoon riding around the farm, chasing each other, and wearing out our dog. It was good times. Hooray for being active!

Colon Cleanse: Breaking the Turd Barrier

Yesterday, I mentioned my husband and I purchased colon cleanse business at the health food store. We both decided to start the cleanse last night. We took the recommended 5 pills each as directed on the bottle. I was immediately struck by how disgusting the pills tasted. It was like swallowing wood chips. Throughout the evening, our conversation went like this:

Husband: You feelin’ anything yet?

Me: Nope. I feel kinda full, though.

Husband:  I don’t feel anything.

An hour later … 

Husband: How are you feeling?

Me: I feel some pressure.

Husband: I don’t feel anything yet.

We awoke this morning with nothing much to report. Nothing transpired overnight.

 

This morning …

Me: I feel like the storm is coming.

Husband: Haha, yeah.

Me: Your stomach just made a noise.

Husband: Oh, did it?

 

We both took the recommended next 5 pills before having breakfast. Our conversation went as such:

While making breakfast …

Me: Oh God, I think it’s time. I better grab a book. *makes a beeline to the bathroom*

Husband: *knocking on door* Your breakfast is ready!

Me: *emerging rather quickly* I think I just broke the turd barrier. I didn’t need the book.

My Mom: *laughs*

Husband: Well, your breakfast is ready.

Me: I’m burping up wood chip taste. This is gross.

After breakfast …

Me: *stomach makes foreign, alien-about-to-emerge roar* Did you hear that?

Mom: No.

Me: Oh man! *runs back to the bathroom with a book*

Me: *reads approximately five Best of the Guster Road Journal 1999 – 2003 entries … remembers a time in life prior to purchasing hippie colon cleanses when going to concerts was considered weekend excitement*

 

So …

I’m somewhat terrified to go to the gym today, and not because of the workout or the pain I’ll endure. Maybe I should’ve thought about the after-effects before I started Bowel Cleanse 2013. Oh well, I’m in the throes of it now. I must say, the “organic fiber blends” must have wood in them. Everything tastes like wood. So far, the “non-cramping formula” does seem to be accurate. I haven’t experienced any cramps … yet.

Also, I learned new things about rhubarb. The bottle says, “Notice: This product contains rhubarb. Do not use if you have or develop diarrhea, loose stools or abdominal pain because rhubarb may worsen these conditions and be harmful to your health.” Who knew rhubarb was dangerous? Not me.

Uh oh, it’s happening again …

Dang Tasty Chicken

I did some things right today and I did some things wrong today.

First, I had a massage with my favorite masseuse this morning. She worked on my icky knees and shoulder, so that was fabulous. Afterwards, I headed to the gym (YES!) and worked out. I even ran. It wasn’t for long and I didn’t go far, but I ran. It kinda felt like my legs might fall apart, so I stopped and went back to walking. I also spent some time on the bike. Again, there were only two other fitness souls at the place. I kind of like the lack of bodies there. It makes me feel less self conscious. My cousin also left me a note that she just joined the same gym, so perhaps I’ll have a workout buddy going forward!

After working out, I went home and helped my Dad roll up netting that was in part of our garden. It was a lot of netting. I came in, showered, re-dressed, and managed to fall asleep sitting up in the living room. See, working out is tiring and all. I was exhausted. That might also be because my dog manages to push me off the bed nearly every night, but I digress …

By this time, my husband was home from work (yeah, poor guy had to go in on a Saturday) and we decided to go to the health food store to pick up more foods for our healthiness journey. $250 bucks later and we emerged from the store, but not after I managed to drop a glass bottle of agave-sweetened soda on the floor during the checkout process. Smooth.

This is where my relatively-healthy day takes a turn for the worst. On the way home, we stopped at this fried chicken place in the middle of nowhere (it’s my Dad’s favorite) and bought chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy home for dinner to surprise him. Oops. I may have eaten more than one thigh. Double oops. It did taste delicious, though. My dog stalked me the entire time I was eating it. I probably shouldn’t have eaten that for dinner. Now, I’m experiencing eater’s remorse.

Speaking of remorse, my husband and I decided we’re both going to do a colon cleanse. We bought 30-day kits at the health food store. I guess even if it ends up being a terrible experience, it’ll make for hilarious blogging, eh? I’ve never done one before. I suppose it’s a good thing we have 3 bathrooms. Ha!

Anywho, tomorrow, I’ll do better with my eating. No more friiiiied chicken. Instead, I’ll enjoy some of my fish-in-a-box. Applewood smoked petite rainbow trout, for the win!

 

Sabotage

Okay, first things first. I went to the gym today after visiting my chiropractor. Because this is a small town, there were only two other people in the gym. That was fine by me. After 15 minutes, I was the only person left in the gym. That was even more fine by me.

I guess nobody wants to work out on a Friday night? I don’t blame them. If I wasn’t fat, I wouldn’t work out, either.

I did a bunch of stuff at the gym — treadmill, bike, weights. It felt good. Well, talk to me tomorrow about how it felt, because I’m sure I’ll be sore. It did feel good to move, though. I also ate relatively healthy today, discounting the lovely chocolate zucchini cake my Mom made us. I had a small piece after she told me it was “healthy” because it was made with zucchini. Riiiiight.

My Mom always seems to have radar for when I’m trying to avoid sweets and then she makes something delicious to tempt me. Last time I started an attempt at healthiness, she made my favorite, homemade cherry pie with freshly picked Michigan sour cherries. I said no to it at the time and I’m not going to lie, I regret saying no. Not having a slice of that pie has haunted me all summer. That would’ve been some tasty pie in my belly.

I have other good news to report. That terrible, awful, hideous number I posted in my last blog is no more. I’ve already dropped lower than those initial three numbers. That’s something to feel somewhat good about, right?

What This Is vs. What This Isn’t

I had big plans after work today to get my husband signed up at the gym, too. Unfortunately, fate didn’t have that idea written in ink on the priority list of life. My husband got stuck at work late and by the time he made it home, the manager people at the gym were gone for the day. *cue womp, womp sound*

I got to thinking about it while I was walking the dog out by the corn fields and you know what? My success or gym attendance really shouldn’t hinge on another person. I got myself into this fatness and I have to get myself out. I can do this, right? Right?!

Let’s do a flashback to this morning. I got up to take a shower and I stepped on the scale of shattered dreams. It pains me to write this or even admit this, but it said 240 pounds.

240 pounds. It’s the most overweight I’ve ever been in my whole life. The biggest number. At my lightest, I was probably around 150-160 pounds. I’m 5’10”.

So, yes, I am tall for a lady, but I can’t make excuses. What the eff did I do to myself to get here? Just stop caring?

I don’t eat everything in sight, either. I think I have for-shit metabolism, but again, that is another excuse. I don’t really work out anymore. I work all the time. I stress eat. More excuses. Excuses. I have to stop with the excuses.

I have to believe and tell myself that today is the last day that scale will say 240 pounds. I will go to the gym tomorrow. I will sweat. I will feel my limbs cry. In a few weeks, I’ll feel better.

So, let me set some ground rules for what this blog will and won’t be about since I’m starting this healthy business ASAP.

I will not post:

• Workout statistics (I ran eleventy-billion miles today! I biked the length of a state! I lifted 435 children with one arm! I went to yogalates!)
• Pounds or inches lost (except after hitting a milestone, possibly)
• Calorie details (I ate 10 calories worth of Extra gum today. Man, do I feel satiated!)
• Endless food and portion information (Today, I ate 8 almonds, 2 eggs, 42 pieces of celery, and 24 bits of cardboard!)

All of the above are things that bore me to death with health/fitness blogs. I never really care to read that about other people, so there’s no way I’m doing that to you, dear readers.

I will post:

• My thoughts while working out
• My thoughts while not working out
• My thoughts in general
• Fears
• Victories
• Hopes
• Feelings
• Funnies
• History
• And who knows what else?

I’m undecided about posting:

• Personal information (my name, my friends’ names, my family member’s names, my pets’ names)
• Real, live photos of me losing weight. Maybe I should crop out my head, but if I do that, no one will see when I manage to lose my double chin!
• The occasional healthy recipe. I mean, hey, if I find something I really like, I’d better archive it, right?

That’s all for now. Tomorrow I’m getting down to business! Let’s do this!