The bad news is that my favorite yoga pants, the ones I've had for two years now, have to be replaced because they are falling off every time I take a step. The good news is that my favorite yoga pants, the pair I've been wearing for two years now, need to be replaced because they are falling off every time I take a step.
FABULOUS.
(Though I should acknowledge my suspicion that said pants are falling off mostly because my 56 pound pregnancy gain finally shot the elastic, and less so because I've lost so much of that weight. But whatever. My pants are falling off. Go me!)
Unfortunately I forgot that this pair didn't fit so well anymore and I wore them to kickboxing this morning- which means I didn't get much of a workout. Can't punch with two fists if you need one to keep your pants North of the border.
Eh, but who cares? My pants are falling off! Whooohoo!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Oooh Baby I Like It Raw
I've finally done it-I've returned to juicing. Of course, I've only been juicing for a day, so perhaps this post is a bit premature, but I the title tickled me too much to wait another week.
Juicing- putting fruits and veggies through my Jack Lalanne power juicer to make fresh juice- has been part of my life for four years now, though as with most things, there have been peaks and valleys. I love to juice. I really do. It's amazing what juicing does to your body- it's like a Red Bull but without the crash (or scary weird ingredients). It flushes away bloat, gives you energy and just generally makes you feel terrific. My skin looks better, I feel better, everything is better when I juice regularly. But, like exercise and healthy eating, once you fall out of habit it's difficult to start again.
But start again I have, and I'll be reporting here. I'm trying so hard to be consistent with my healthy eating, and juicing always seems to help. Something about getting all those nutrients seems to curb cravings for junk.
This morning I juiced strawberries, mango and carrots. Delish. I'm also juicing for my husband, Captain Corn, because it's the best way to get nutrients in to him, as he's not much of a fruit and veggie eater- another great thing about juicing. I normally juice veggies but I wasn't about to wait until I made my next trip to the farmer's market to return to juicing. Today was the day.
So Hurray Me, I've taken yet another step toward a healthier, happier me. Go me! I'm not perfect, but I've done something I can feel proud of, and that's certainly a step in the right direction.
Juicing- putting fruits and veggies through my Jack Lalanne power juicer to make fresh juice- has been part of my life for four years now, though as with most things, there have been peaks and valleys. I love to juice. I really do. It's amazing what juicing does to your body- it's like a Red Bull but without the crash (or scary weird ingredients). It flushes away bloat, gives you energy and just generally makes you feel terrific. My skin looks better, I feel better, everything is better when I juice regularly. But, like exercise and healthy eating, once you fall out of habit it's difficult to start again.
But start again I have, and I'll be reporting here. I'm trying so hard to be consistent with my healthy eating, and juicing always seems to help. Something about getting all those nutrients seems to curb cravings for junk.
This morning I juiced strawberries, mango and carrots. Delish. I'm also juicing for my husband, Captain Corn, because it's the best way to get nutrients in to him, as he's not much of a fruit and veggie eater- another great thing about juicing. I normally juice veggies but I wasn't about to wait until I made my next trip to the farmer's market to return to juicing. Today was the day.
So Hurray Me, I've taken yet another step toward a healthier, happier me. Go me! I'm not perfect, but I've done something I can feel proud of, and that's certainly a step in the right direction.
Bang Your Head
Maybe I'm just cranky because I haven't worked out, or maybe my blood sugar is low, but gang, I've got a case of the cranky's that you just wouldn't believe.
I want. To lose. This weight. I want to take the fat suit off. I'm tired of weighing myself. I'm tired of trying on the same clothes over and over again and finding that they still don't fit. I'm tired of searching my closet for clothes to wear only to end up in the same crappy stuff over and over again. I'm tired of it, damn it! I feel like I'm banging my head against the wall here. This is driving me absolutely bananas. Losing the pregnancy weight is so much freaking harder than losing cheeseburger weight and I never guessed it would be this way. I feel like I have such a long road yet to travel, and though I'm still motivated (miraculously), still enthusiastic, some days I feel like I'm getting nowhere.
I try to keep the posts here positive but this is how I feel, this is what is real, and that's what this blog is really about- the journey. Right now I feel like I'm stuck at a rest stop rather than progressing, and I needed to get that off my chest so I could focus and regroup, which I think I've done. I need to buckle down, get in touch with my goals and keep moving forward. If I'm consistent, this will work. Consistency is my biggest challenge, and getting healthy and staying healthy will require me to find moderation and a method I can live with.
Oy. This is hard.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Geez, if only bitching about stuff burned calories....
(On the plus side, props to me for another song title/lyric post title)(If smart ass-ery burned calories I'd be Kate Moss)
I want. To lose. This weight. I want to take the fat suit off. I'm tired of weighing myself. I'm tired of trying on the same clothes over and over again and finding that they still don't fit. I'm tired of searching my closet for clothes to wear only to end up in the same crappy stuff over and over again. I'm tired of it, damn it! I feel like I'm banging my head against the wall here. This is driving me absolutely bananas. Losing the pregnancy weight is so much freaking harder than losing cheeseburger weight and I never guessed it would be this way. I feel like I have such a long road yet to travel, and though I'm still motivated (miraculously), still enthusiastic, some days I feel like I'm getting nowhere.
I try to keep the posts here positive but this is how I feel, this is what is real, and that's what this blog is really about- the journey. Right now I feel like I'm stuck at a rest stop rather than progressing, and I needed to get that off my chest so I could focus and regroup, which I think I've done. I need to buckle down, get in touch with my goals and keep moving forward. If I'm consistent, this will work. Consistency is my biggest challenge, and getting healthy and staying healthy will require me to find moderation and a method I can live with.
Oy. This is hard.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Geez, if only bitching about stuff burned calories....
(On the plus side, props to me for another song title/lyric post title)(If smart ass-ery burned calories I'd be Kate Moss)
I Drove All Night
Okay, fine, I didn't drive all night, but I did drive to the gym and then turn around and come home without working out.
And no, thank you, I don't want to talk about it. But Scott laughed so hard at me that he insisted I blog about it. So here it is. Hurray me.
Stupid gym. Stupid stubborn fat. Stupid tight jeans.
Arrrrgh.
And no, thank you, I don't want to talk about it. But Scott laughed so hard at me that he insisted I blog about it. So here it is. Hurray me.
Stupid gym. Stupid stubborn fat. Stupid tight jeans.
Arrrrgh.
Isn't it Ironic...Don't You Think?
For starters, let me tell you now that this is part of a challenge I've set for myself to see how many posts I can title using song lyrics. Just carry on and pretend not to notice.
So the point...the point...where is the point...oh yes.
I'm sitting here updating my blog about fitness and working out instead of going to the gym and getting fit by working out. It seemed like a really good excuse- I mean, my public needs me- until I thought about it some more.
So no more blogging. I'm going to the gym.
Unless you need me. Then I'll totally keep sitting here on my ass. Just let me know. I'm here to serve you. Really.
So the point...the point...where is the point...oh yes.
I'm sitting here updating my blog about fitness and working out instead of going to the gym and getting fit by working out. It seemed like a really good excuse- I mean, my public needs me- until I thought about it some more.
So no more blogging. I'm going to the gym.
Unless you need me. Then I'll totally keep sitting here on my ass. Just let me know. I'm here to serve you. Really.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
You Spin Me Right Round Baby, Right Round
The thing that I really love about a cycling class over a class like kickboxing is the music. At my gym the instructors usually play real music, straight from their iPods, rather than trance pop mixes mass produced for gyms across America. And Techno remixes of I Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon? No bueno. And so against God's plan. That doesn't make me want to kickbox, that just makes me want to kick. You.
That's why it was so disappointing to attend class with Lisa last week. Lisa. Who played a techno trance mix of...wait for it...Call On Me, by none other than Steve Winwood. That's right- Steve "Higher Love" Winwood, the man who featured heavily on the score of Bette Midler/Lily Tomlin movies in the mid 80's. I'm not sure where he belongs but in a techno trance mix in my Spin class definitely isn't the right answer. Then she kicked it down a notch with Tom Jones' She's A Lady, which, in terms of making me want to kick people, is one of the most successful songs ever recorded. But it was Oh What A Night by Franki Valli that actually made me stop cycling and say out loud, "Wow, the music in here is terrible." I couldn't help myself. I had to let it out.
Normally the music is what keeps me going, makes me pedal harder or faster, makes me want it, lets me enjoy that good, hard sweat. Emily, who plays Depeche Mode and Cypress Hill, is a total ass kicker but I love her class. Cool guy with the padded pants has similarly awesome taste and runs a totally fun class. Great music makes me work harder. That's why I'm constantly updating my iPod and why I don't workout without it. Play I Love Rock and Roll midway through class and I guarantee I'll take it up a level because Joan Jett hates wusses. And while I know that musical tastes differ, I find it hard to believe that pop-mance ballads get anyone up and moving. Ahem. Lisa.
My friend Myndi told me about a television show where a friend of the instructor tries to get her to play Steve Winwood during her Spin class, and Myn suggested to me that maybe Lisa just has a great sense of humor. It would have been awesome if I (okay, Myndi) had caught some funny inside joke like that, but as Lisa lectured us all twice about not talking during class I'm going to guess that all Lisa actually has is terrible taste in music. On the plus side, the class did seem to go by quickly, mostly because I was so busy being incredulous and mentally criticizing every one of her choices that I didn't notice I was exercising. But it wasn't fun either.
What about you guys- is it music that gets you going at the gym? What track always revs you up? No matter how tired I am, La Grange by ZZ Top is always going to get another mile out of me. My iPod is my escape. I play Mr. Jones by Amy Winehouse and imagine myself in finger waves and red lipstick singing onstage with a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I hear Setting Sun by the Chemical Brothers and suddenly I'm so much cooler than I was one track ago. Apple Bottom jeans has me thinking I'm in the club and Shimmy Shimmy Ya is just so much fun that I don't care where I am.
So how about you? What's on your playlist? What's the worst music you've ever heard in the gym?
That's why it was so disappointing to attend class with Lisa last week. Lisa. Who played a techno trance mix of...wait for it...Call On Me, by none other than Steve Winwood. That's right- Steve "Higher Love" Winwood, the man who featured heavily on the score of Bette Midler/Lily Tomlin movies in the mid 80's. I'm not sure where he belongs but in a techno trance mix in my Spin class definitely isn't the right answer. Then she kicked it down a notch with Tom Jones' She's A Lady, which, in terms of making me want to kick people, is one of the most successful songs ever recorded. But it was Oh What A Night by Franki Valli that actually made me stop cycling and say out loud, "Wow, the music in here is terrible." I couldn't help myself. I had to let it out.
Normally the music is what keeps me going, makes me pedal harder or faster, makes me want it, lets me enjoy that good, hard sweat. Emily, who plays Depeche Mode and Cypress Hill, is a total ass kicker but I love her class. Cool guy with the padded pants has similarly awesome taste and runs a totally fun class. Great music makes me work harder. That's why I'm constantly updating my iPod and why I don't workout without it. Play I Love Rock and Roll midway through class and I guarantee I'll take it up a level because Joan Jett hates wusses. And while I know that musical tastes differ, I find it hard to believe that pop-mance ballads get anyone up and moving. Ahem. Lisa.
My friend Myndi told me about a television show where a friend of the instructor tries to get her to play Steve Winwood during her Spin class, and Myn suggested to me that maybe Lisa just has a great sense of humor. It would have been awesome if I (okay, Myndi) had caught some funny inside joke like that, but as Lisa lectured us all twice about not talking during class I'm going to guess that all Lisa actually has is terrible taste in music. On the plus side, the class did seem to go by quickly, mostly because I was so busy being incredulous and mentally criticizing every one of her choices that I didn't notice I was exercising. But it wasn't fun either.
What about you guys- is it music that gets you going at the gym? What track always revs you up? No matter how tired I am, La Grange by ZZ Top is always going to get another mile out of me. My iPod is my escape. I play Mr. Jones by Amy Winehouse and imagine myself in finger waves and red lipstick singing onstage with a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I hear Setting Sun by the Chemical Brothers and suddenly I'm so much cooler than I was one track ago. Apple Bottom jeans has me thinking I'm in the club and Shimmy Shimmy Ya is just so much fun that I don't care where I am.
So how about you? What's on your playlist? What's the worst music you've ever heard in the gym?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
I'm Too Sexy For This Blog
I don't know about you, but I've got an entire cabinet full of fancy, scented lotions and perfumes and luxury products that I never use. I want to, but I can't. I'm saving them. I've got a drawer full of dusty, long unused lingerie too, and some really terrific clothes that do fit right now but that haven't been off the hanger more than once in the last six months. I've also got some really fantastic shoes just collecting dust while I wear my flip flops everywhere, and a husband who thinks I'm sexy and wouldn't keep his hands off me if I'd stop constantly batting them away.
So what am I waiting for?
Well, I don't really know. Something special, I guess. To be thinner. To have someplace other than the grocery store to go to. To feel sexy again. To feel worthy again.
I realized these things as I was getting in to the shower the other night. And I used the luxurious salt scrub that I usually save for...well, I don't know what special occasion I'm waiting for. After my shower I squirted on a bit of perfume and realized how good it made me feel. I put on a matching bra and underwear set, something I honestly haven't done in years, preferring instead to buy neutral, tan colored bras because they're practical. And it felt great- like using the good china just to eat take out, or opening the expensive bottle of wine on a Tuesday night. I had forgotten what a treat it is, how much it means, to treat yourself like you are special- like you are enough.
I've been talking to my friends about mantras a lot lately- about finding words that inspire you, that lift you up and make your goals feel attainable, close. I've always lived by the idea that happiness comes from choosing to be happy, not from waiting for life events to make you happy. You don't wait for your life to be in order before you feel happiness. You choose to be happy and life aligns itself accordingly. It's a great way to live, and it's made me a sincerely happy person, and solved a lot of the questions and problems in my life. But one place I've never applied it to is my sense of self- my feelings of worth.
Instead of seeing my worth and letting it dictate how I live me life, I've lived a life where I was always just a few shades away from feeling worthy, just a few more pounds away from deserving to feel good. It's the only place where I am living a life out of line with my values.
The truth is that the time to celebrate, the time to pamper, the time to preen and twirl in the mirror, the time to use the expensive perfume, is now. It's now. I deserve it now. I am beautiful now.
Maybe it seems simple or obvious; but as it often happens, I had the information; I just never had the knowledge- the understanding, the appreciation.
So yesterday I put on the rich, fragrant Issey Miyake cream that Patsy bought me for my honeymoon, and I squeezed in to my matching Calvin Klein set that I love so much. I blew out my hair and wore lipstick to the grocery store, and I ironed a shirt and wore my leopard print ballet flat, even if I was just headed to the mailbox.
And it felt wonderful. And it felt familiar, and right. It made me happy, and reminded me to love myself now, instead of waiting for the day when I finally meet my own expectations of who I should or could be.
Welcome back, Al. Welcome back.
So what am I waiting for?
Well, I don't really know. Something special, I guess. To be thinner. To have someplace other than the grocery store to go to. To feel sexy again. To feel worthy again.
I realized these things as I was getting in to the shower the other night. And I used the luxurious salt scrub that I usually save for...well, I don't know what special occasion I'm waiting for. After my shower I squirted on a bit of perfume and realized how good it made me feel. I put on a matching bra and underwear set, something I honestly haven't done in years, preferring instead to buy neutral, tan colored bras because they're practical. And it felt great- like using the good china just to eat take out, or opening the expensive bottle of wine on a Tuesday night. I had forgotten what a treat it is, how much it means, to treat yourself like you are special- like you are enough.
I've been talking to my friends about mantras a lot lately- about finding words that inspire you, that lift you up and make your goals feel attainable, close. I've always lived by the idea that happiness comes from choosing to be happy, not from waiting for life events to make you happy. You don't wait for your life to be in order before you feel happiness. You choose to be happy and life aligns itself accordingly. It's a great way to live, and it's made me a sincerely happy person, and solved a lot of the questions and problems in my life. But one place I've never applied it to is my sense of self- my feelings of worth.
Instead of seeing my worth and letting it dictate how I live me life, I've lived a life where I was always just a few shades away from feeling worthy, just a few more pounds away from deserving to feel good. It's the only place where I am living a life out of line with my values.
The truth is that the time to celebrate, the time to pamper, the time to preen and twirl in the mirror, the time to use the expensive perfume, is now. It's now. I deserve it now. I am beautiful now.
Maybe it seems simple or obvious; but as it often happens, I had the information; I just never had the knowledge- the understanding, the appreciation.
So yesterday I put on the rich, fragrant Issey Miyake cream that Patsy bought me for my honeymoon, and I squeezed in to my matching Calvin Klein set that I love so much. I blew out my hair and wore lipstick to the grocery store, and I ironed a shirt and wore my leopard print ballet flat, even if I was just headed to the mailbox.
And it felt wonderful. And it felt familiar, and right. It made me happy, and reminded me to love myself now, instead of waiting for the day when I finally meet my own expectations of who I should or could be.
Welcome back, Al. Welcome back.
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