Fit Fall Food Challenge!

I know that I'm crazy late with getting it done, but I made a commitment, and dang it, well, I figured I should get around to it eventually.

For those of you who read my Salmon Buying Adventure earlier in the week, I know you've been waiting with baited breath to see how the fish-making would turn out.  Well happy day, the fish was cooked and consumed!!  (Days ago now, I just haven't gotten the pictures up.  Just so we're clear, I did NOT leave the fish in my fridge for a week and then try to feed it to my family.  Apparently that's gross.)

But this fish was not gross.  Husband, a self proclaimed "Salmon Fan", said it was "pretty good" (Husband is not a vocally enthusiastic person.  From what I can figure, Pretty Good translates to a solid B+.) Daughter ate it up happily, and I, a self proclaimed "Not Salmon Fan" thought it was alright.  Better salmon than lots I've had before.  Something I could eat again and be okay with.

So here's my fishy journey.  It had been about 4 or 5 years since I've attempted to cook fish, and last time was... let's just say, bad. Very bad.  Dry and fishy and gross and left the house smelling for days.  Hence the 4 or 5 year hiatus.  But these days, I've been avoiding red meat, and we've been eating chicken breast almost exclusively for months now.  It was time for an adventure.

Here is the pre-cooked fish-speriment.  Salmon Filet over sliced lemon, butter, salt and pepper.  Wrapped it up tightly and tossed it into the oven (350 deg) on a cookie sheet for about a half hour.  

I thought it was pretty.  It made me feel hopeful.

 Here is my war-wound, where I sliced my finger instead along with a lemon.  Apparently my knives are sharper than I tend to give them credit for.  THis is where I learned that cutting yourself while cutting citrus fruit is, generally speaking, a terrible idea.  Don't worry, I cleaned and bandaged up, no food was contaminated by my pain.

Owie.

 For our sides, I steamed up some pearl grain rice and broccoli.  These things, it should be said, were not adventurous or new.  These things are staples in our family, but I thought they'd go well with the lemony fish.

 Which makes me want to show off my favorite thing in my kitchen: Our rice cooker.  We use this thing probably 3-5 times a week, for rice and/or veggies.  Just toss in what you want and 20 minutes later you have incredibly healthy, flavorful, and perfectly cooked offerings to throw on the table.  The only thing "wrong" with it, is that it gives off steam so I can't put it under my cabinets because I'm afraid they will get warped.  Besides that, I guess sometimes I wished it could hold more vegetables. This thing is my absolute best cooking friend.

 Here's our post-cooked fishy friend.  In the corner you can see that I tried to pull off the skin, but the fish just fell apart on the fork.  That's how awesomely tender this fish came out.  Which is how I decided that we would be removing the skin at the table. This worked out just fine for us, but I guess some people might not like having the skins present on the serving plate.  For all of you, I have no idea what a better solution would be.  

 Plated fish.

So there you have it folks, our full, health-food challenge dinner!  We did drizzle a little teriyaki onto the rice for a little extra flavor,  but it was tasty and great, and I'm shocked to say, something I'm sure we'll have again!

As far as the fish goes, it was moist and tender, buttery and well seasoned.  The lemons were removed from the fish by the skin, so the citrus flavor was mild, enough to compliment the taste of the salmon without overwhelming it.  I feel like the tinfoil steaming option was INCREDIBLE, and thankfully, blessedly, moron proof.  I've already been gathering some new seasoning options, but I'm sure we'll tinfoil steam some more salmon up in the not-too distant future.  After less than 10 total minutes of prep for the whole meal, I threw the rice and broccoli into the steamer, the fish in the oven, and waited the half an hour till it all came out perfectly cooked, making me look fancy and talented.  With two kids at home, and for someone who hates to cook but is morally obliged to feed her family, this meal is a PERFECT option.

Anyway, time to get on with my day!  Tomorrow is birthday celebration day (which means I'll be eating some not-great things, but intend to do so in ... moderation?) and I have a house to prepare, yardwork to do, and cupcakes to bake!  Happy weekend, Friends!

Google me, baby

I absolutely, completely, aggressively, and sometimes outright violently, love the people who read this blog.  Especially, I love the people who read this blog because Google suggested that they do so.  And most of all, I love the things they were looking for that lead them to me as a person of great authority.  So in celebration of this wonderful and terrible love that I have, and since I am so very willing to expose myself, I thought it was about time that I expose some of you as well.  Or at the very least, expose some of your Google searches.

So, as a Hump Day present for us all, these are some of the most common things that people are searching for (yes, these are the EXACT things that people search for) when they find us here at EISY.

Please to enjoy.

THE LIST

1) Sleepy cat. --APPARENTLY, cats are pretty popular on the internet.  And apparently, sleeping cats are the best cats.  "Sleepy cat" is how most people who stumble upon my blog find my blog.  Not far down the list is "Exhausted cat".  I am a little sad here that I'm not reaching my target demographics, but I'm also not above exploiting adorable pictures of sleeping felines from the internet in order to gain more traffic.  So you're welcome.

2) Trekkies trekkers. --An important distinction.  I hope these searchers learned something.

3) Sexy trekkies.  --And really, aren't they all??

4) Chubby College Freshmen. --Husband's response to this search: "Boy aren't they going to be disappointed.  You aren't even IN college anymore."

5) Long Toenails. --... Really?  Geez, I already felt self conscious about my feet, now Google also suggests that I have unhygienic nails. I am not helped by this information.

6) Exercise to fix sad bellybutton face. --This is my absolute favoritist Googler.  Because they look in the mirror EXACTLY how I look in the mirror, and they ALSO want their tummy to cheer up.  I wish this person and or people well.

7) I took a shot of apple cider vinegar... --I didn't get to read the rest of this search because it was too long, but I assume it said something along the lines of "and then my stomach jumped out of my throat and choked me to death with my small intestine as punishment.  Because that was a really really stupid thing to do."  But that's just my personal experience.

8) Lady Gaga Cider Vinegar Shots. --I'm not sure if this is a thing, but it sounds OUTRAGEOUSLY terrible.  I hope this Googler makes better life choices in the future.

9) Self respect? Nope its long gone. --Yep.  Those are actually the words someone typed into a Google search.  And then Google said, "YES.  I know EXACTLY what you're looking for.  Either this blog or the suicide hotline, take your pick." Make matters even awesomer? I HAVE BEEN FOUND FOUR SEPARATE TIMES WITH THIS EXACT SAME SEARCH. Which either means that lots of people question Google about their own self respect, or it's just one very sad person with a very bad memory.

10) Winco Babes. --Welcome to my blog.  I am a Winco Babe.  Happy to meet you.

11) Crazy college girls. --Go away, you are lost, and probably a really gross pervert.

Lastly, occasionally people actually type in something related to the name of my blog in order to actually find my blog.  In fact, some people just type the full name of my blog into the search bar instead of the address bar, just to see if they can confuse Google, it would seem.  But you can't confuse Google, because Google knows.  Yes... Google knows.

Anyway, hope you're all having a grand ol' evening, thanks for reading, I think it is very nice that you stopped by.  And remember, keep Googling, because even though it sounds like something you should have to do penance for tomorrow, it's really just a reminder of how super hilarious every single human has the potential to be.  Google on, dear friends. Google on.

Fall Fit Tuesday Tres!

Today's weigh in:

Woot! 1.2 more pounds down from last week, and 6.8 pounds down from week one.  

This week's lessons:  

1) Weight loss is wicked freaking awesome, even when it's slow.  Today, once again, I'm the thinnest wife my husband has ever had.  I'm only 2 pounds over where I was at my college graduation, and I was pretty freaking hot at my college graduation.

2) I have ugly feet.  I know, you were probably distracted by the awesome toenail paint, but I've come to see that the polish is just a thin mask hiding what are otherwise ridiculous, floppy, size 8 1/2, wider-than-they-are-long, hobbit-feet.  I might need to start wearing stilettos for my scale pictures.  Or at least some kicky socks.

3) Exercise does not give you energy when you are eating very very few calories.  It makes you feel weak and shaky and sleepy.  But if it gives you a sexy tush, I'm still in.  For heaven's sake, I need something to distract the eye from my giant floppy hobbit-feet.

This week's challenge/sub-challenge was to make a healthy meal that you haven't made before.  And then take pictures of it.  I haven't shown you the pictures yet, because I haven't completed the challenge yet. But I intend to.  I have already purchased some salmon, which was sufficiently scary because I have not had to purchase meat directly from the butcher before and I wasn't exactly sure how to do it, because maybe they have their own code for how to appropriately order the appropriate amount and kind of fish.  I went up to the man and said "Could I get the salmon filet?" and he said "the salmon" and I said "yes" and then he gave me some salmon.  He weighed it first and it was almost a pound and it cost $4.33, which might be horribly over or under priced for salmon, but again, I do not know, because I do not normally purchase salmon.

I came home from the store and husband said, "Woah.  Meat wrapped in butcher paper.  Woah." And I was glad then that I am married to someone who understands.

Pharmaceutical Fail

I got a phone call while I was at work earlier this week.  It went a little something like this:

Phone Lady: "I'm calling for Ashley."
Me: "This is Ashley."
P.L.: "Ashley we just heard back from your insurance company about that medication we prescribed you"
M.E.: "That sounds nice."
P.L.: "Well Ashley, it's not so nice, because the insurance company called to say that they've denied your request for the medicine."
M.E.: "But I... the doctor.... but... my tummy hurts."
P.L.: "Well the insurance company says you don't meet medical necessity."
M.E.: "Okaaaaaay.... so what happens now?"
P.L.: "..."
M.E.: "What am I supposed to do???"
P.L.: "Well, I guess you should call up the insurance.  And you need to tell them...."
M.E.: "Tell them what?  Tell them that they should listen to what the doctor says? That I am not personally trying to take unnecessary medication but this was the ONLY thing the doctor thought could help me so how's about letting me take it, you big jerks?" --That's what my brain said.  My mouth said nothing.
P.L.: "Yeah.... maybe I guess you could come see the doctor again?"
M.E.: "... I think that sounds like a good idea."

Long story not-too-short, I'm still broken.  I'm still broken, and I'm turning 29 in exactly 14 days and I really wanted to eat some crap on my birthday.

Guess I'll be celebrating with salad this year.  Woo hoo.

Dry-Heaving is Sissiness Leaving the Body

So, I'm a big fat sissy-lady, but a little less so after the "my body is tantruming and threatening to do terrible terrible things" post work out episode this morning.  But again, all that came of it was a little bit of dry-heaving and a lingering sense of "oh lord, my poor, poor body wants to die now".

Which all brings me to the real point here: Nike Training Club... holy crap, I hate your stupid face so hard right now.  I've had the app for a good long time now, and never really, shall we say, "used it".  So today I did.  I went into the backyard, and maybe 3 minutes into the 30 minute work out, I pretty much wanted to die.  Run. Then backpedal.  Then 2 minutes of high kicks. Planks and pushups and squats and reverse crunches and lunges and, to be honest, I was sore going into the dang thing after yesterday's workout.  It is so, so hard to lift my arms right now.  I am a ridiculous, pathetic, sissy face.

Of course, all this means is that Nike Training Club is terrible and awesome and will become my primary work out for the time being.

Because as I said yesterday, I do need to work out.  Which I hate, and is very bad news for yours truly. These "tone" exercises are so much worse than just going for a run.  I know now that's because, while sometimes I run far and long and take a long time to do it, I don't run HARD.  Nike Training Jerkface makes me work out HARD.

So many times I look at this stuff I have to do and say, "I'm really not the type of person who _____." Fill in the blank.  Works out.  Wears size little.  Eats fresh produce everyday.  Willingly chooses to NOT eat desserts when desserts are available for eating.

Big freaking shock that I was once Obese, right?  Because guess what?  THAT'S WHAT THE PERSON DESCRIBED ABOVE BECOMES.  If I don't want to be a fat person anymore, if I want to be super skinny and toned and hot, I can't just change what I do, I really have to fundamentally change who I am.  I have to become the kind of person who eats right (done) and exercises regularly (...oye).

Which begs the question:  Is it worth it?  I think so.  At least today, at 144lbs and dropping, it's feeling worth it.  At some point, the cost benefit analysis may change, I may be sufficiently comfortable to maintain 130 instead of fighting to stay at 120, and that's a choice I'll have to make some day.

But not today.

Today is sore muscles and racing heart and crazy loads of nausea.  And it. Is. Awesome.

One week of Fall Fit Challenge: COMPLETED!!

So one week in, and here's my Official Second Scale Pic:

Nope, I haven't repainted my toenails as I had intended, but I'm going to go ahead and focus on the number between the ugly feet.

It's 143.8.  Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooookay I'm done. Woo!

Yes, it's like, a 5 pound loss from last Tuesday, but that does make sense, as the 149 was way over where I had been before.  So it's not a WOAH THAT'S FREAKING AMAZE-BALLS! number, but it's good.  It's the lowest I've been since very shortly after graduating college, and it feels GREAT.

Last night I was up late finishing up some work when I caught a few minutes of an infomercial.  Not just AN informercial, mind you, THE infomercial.  THE  infomercial about Beautiful Brazilian Butts and the exercises that make them.

*Can I stop for a minute here and give you a piece of advice?  Please do not, no matter how tempting it may feel, go Google the term "brazilian butt lift" and then click "images".  I thought it might be fun to have some visual representation of the "workout craze sweeping the nations", but all I got were lumpy naked butts.  Lots, and lots, and lots, of lumpy naked butts.  Who knew that there were so many nude pictures on the internet?!

Anyway, so I saw this infomercial and it got me thinking.  I'm flabby.  Yes yes, I'm losing weight, but it's been years since the volleyball playing and cheerleading (what the WHAT? Yeah, bite me. I did that once.) had my behind looking perky and toned.  Now, unless I'm wearing a nice deceptive pair of jeans, my booty is flat and sad and old.  And my legs... and then there's the belly... and... oye.

Point is, even though I'm losing weight well, I haven't really focused on "tone" yet.  And to be honest, I'm thinking it's time.   The point of this weight loss 'stravaganza wasn't just to regain a healthy weight, to fit into a certain size, or hit a particular arbitrary number.  The idea is to become my best.  To look and feel better than I ever have before ever.  And if I'm going to do that, I'm certainly going to have to do some sit ups and lunges.

Damn.

Bright side:  Soon I will hit the 140 mark, and it will be time for more progress pics.  Hopefully tone will make those pics look less depressing, and I'll get a little more "Holy sexy, Batman!" and a little less, "Wow, you were really brave to post that on the internet..."

Hey, a girl can dream.

Monday Weigh In and a Blog Milestone!

First things first:  Target makes a fake version of Mio, which costs like, 85 cents less per squirter thingy.    And I'm off soda (or heading in that general direction) to see if that helps with my.... life.  So for $2.99, I get 24 servings of deliciously sweetened, non-caffinated, non-carbonated, non-caloried beverage that isn't sooo good that it makes me never drink water anymore, but is good enough that I'm a little less sad that I can't have soda anymore.  I recommend the Cherry Limeade.  The Blue Raspberry looks awesomely blue and crazy tasty awesome, but .... eh.  I can't say I recommend the taste over the taste of water.  Which again, may just be further encouragement to drink more water.

Okay, on to other news and things:  I AM IN THE LOWER 140'S!!!!!! Man, the amount of booty shaking you could see if you were here, well, let's just say it's enough to inspire the writing of a song with the word badonka-donk-donk in it. And by here, I mean in my head, not in my house.  Because if I'm going to be completely honest (which is the hot new trend this fall), most of my dancing is imaginary in nature.  Except when I'm in the car.  Then all bets are off.

So teeeechnically, I'm just barely "within the margin of error" lower 140's, eeking by at 144.6.  But at this point, after a couple weeks of "stuck", (when more than 1 day at a time being stuck ACTUALLY makes me want to jump under a bus and end it all), this was a very welcomed weigh in.

And yes, it's possible that I get a little too emotional about my weigh ins.  For all of you who have mentioned that it maaaaay be a good idea to give up the scale for a time, your concern is noted, but I am choosing to respectful ignore your kind advice.  I have to give up sweets.  I have to give up fats.  I have to give up soda and restaurant food and anything indulgent and fun.  I am NOT giving up the scale, it's the only thing I have left.  And I'm still losing weight, so you know.... if it ain't broke and whatnot.

Tomorrow, you will actually get to see another picture of my scale, thanks to THIS, so go ahead and spend the rest of today waiting with baited breath.  I on the other hand will spend the rest of today picking out some new toenail polish and refusing to eat solid foods.  Kidding, kidding.  Probably.

Last but certainly not least, I'd like to welcome all the new humans and bots who have started reading the blog over the past couple of weeks.  In the next day or two (depending on how interesting I am, and how bored you are) it seems I will have received 10,000 pageviews.  That's outrageous.  I am especially excited by all the hundreds of people who have stumbled upon my site by Googling sleepy cats.  So as a thank you, here are a couple new pictures of sleepy cats.

I decide it's nap time.

I have NOT gotten too fat for the box.  I fit AMAZING in the box.

You're welcome.

Oops. Challange begun...ish?

So I had agreed to join in with this weight loss challenge dilly starting on this past Tuesday.... and then life happened... and I totally forgot to post and stuff.

So, you know.  Oops.

Anyway, if you'd like to know more about the sweet-awesome Fall Challenge, click the 

and check it out!  

Fall is always a rough time, as clothes get more conceal-y and food gets more... comforting, and we have birthdays and holidays and always plenty of candy.  And I still have bunches more pounds that I want to see gone.  So a fall challenge should be great to keep my behind in order.

So what does this mean for my readers?  It means you'll get to see my toenail polish and my gnarly feet and a picture of my scale, every Tuesday until early November.  So this is my starting weight from Tuesday.  Ta Da!  You'll notice it's a higher weight than I want it to be.

My feet say "hello".  

Now moving on to other things from Tuesday:

I met with the doctor.  He says my gallbladder is good.  No, he says my gallbladder is SPECTACULAR.  Seriously.  Your gallbladder WISH it could regulate bile like my gallbladder can.  Assuming, of course, that this is, in fact, the function of a gallbladder.  Turns out I'm not a doctor and I seldom know what I'm talking about.

So why am I still in pain, you ask?  I don't know if you asked.  I sure as shoot did.  The doctor offered me an endoscopy like it was a party favor, like he thinks I might want to do it, you know, for funsies.   Apparently I lack the symptoms and risk factors for the things they would be endoscopy-ing, but we could do it anyway, again, for funsies.

GI doctor doesn't want to cut me.  GI doctor doesn't think I have something you'd find on an endoscopy.  GI doctor thinks, as have all the IBS afflicted nurses I've met over the past couple months, that I have IBS.  I typed it really small because it's embarrassing and shameful and you don't type things like that out loud.

So here's some news about IBS.  There are 3 types.  Serious and Terrifying Poo Type, No Poo Type, and Crazy and Unpredictable Poo Type.

There's only one type which is treatable with a pill.  It's the No Poo Type.  Which, assuming this affliction is the affliction with which I am currently afflicted, would be the actual type I am afflicted with.  If I say afflicted enough times, I assume you'll miss the fact that I just told you something about my poo.  Afflicted.

Let's focus on the good part: THERE MIGHT BE A PILL THAT CAN FIX ME.  Which sounds much awesomer than surgery.  The bad part then, is the fact that my insurance doesn't want to cover that pill (thanksalotobamacare), so the  pharmacy is holding it for ransom until my doctor moves heaven and earth and the minds of the money savers to get them to give it to me.

Ah, the adventure continues.  I'll be sure to keep you updated.  I'm sure you'll want to be updated.  In the mean time, I may very well just stop eating completely.  At the very least, it'll help get me closer to winning the Fall Challenge!!

Trekkies 2: Engage.

Watching Trekkies 2 because it is on Netflix streaming and that is more than enough reason to drop everything and watch some television.

On one hand, I can't say I find this film quite as fascinating as Trekkies 1, but on the other, it still has me questioning everything I know and believe to be true.  So I guess that means it was successful.

I've learned a very specific group of factoids during the past 'bout-an-hour, and I'd like to share them with you now. Thank you.

Specific Factoid Number:

One.  Crazy ass Trekkies exist in every country and on every continent.  Don't believe me?

Boom.  Klingon Penguin cuts your face.

Two. Crazy ass Trekkies don't like to be called crazy ass Trekkies, they like to be called crazy ass Trekkers.  It's better.

Three.  I am NOT a Trekkie.  Trekker.  Trek-human-being-thank-you-very-much.  Cuz I really do NOT  get this.

I just... I don't get it.  What's wrong?  Is it because she's a girl?  Is it a lack of insignia?  Is it the fact that her hair is all loose and hanging over her uniformed instead of being properly stored in its upright and locked position?  Is it because she's giving the Vulcan Howdy Wave in a sort of, loosey-goosey, "Hey hey Heeeeey!" sort of way?  Is yellow not her color??  I just don't know.

Four.  Some of these people have real life jobs and spouses and things.  But most of them should be used as the basis for understanding the vast spectrum of social disorders when it's time to write future DSMs.

Five.  Trekkie-ers are sad.  Apparently they like Star Trek conventions because that's where no one is punching them.  And that is sad.

Six.  Nothing makes me experience such a vast array of emotions, from joy to sorry, humor to pity, to utter, utter confusion in such short order.  I just don't know how to feel about this level of fanhood.  I don't know how to respond to real life grown ups who choose to wear costumes to the grocery story and in their jobs... I .... but.... no.  There are just no words.  There's uncomfortable laughter and a strained smile-grimmace, but absolutely no words.

In order to walk back toward some semblance of reality, I will conclude this:  If the person in front of you arguing that there is "no such thing as normal people or normal behavior" is wearing a complete Klingon costume in his day to day normal life, he may not have the best perspective on the issue.


Live long and prosper, folks.  I am, and will always be, your blogger.

Holy cheeseballs, I think I might die.

I've been off diet the past couple of days.  It wasn't exactly an executive decision, but it's not like I did it  without my own consent, either.  I think hitting the goal I'd been aiming at for the past few months made me feel okay about taking my foot off the gas for a bit.

But that was super stupid, because my body is broken.

Anyway, waking up feeling like my insides were being torn to shreds by tongues of fire was not the worst thing to ever happen to me.  It was a nice freaking reminder that I need to stick to my freakin diet.    Of course, it was also a rather crappy reminder that I am still a broken human, and that something drastic (read: surgical) is probably in my near future.  

In the end, this was probably a good experience. It lets me know the kind of pain I've actually been avoiding by staying away from sweets and fats.  And bonus: staying on my diet will help me lose that last 29 pounds, seeing as I have officially gained 3 back.

Wow.  The amount of punished I feel this weekend...  Touche body.  You win this round.

I have a gooey belly and I am sad.

I was writing a bunch of stuff and it was boring so I erased it.  You're welcome.

Suffice it to say, I ate too much last night and I really enjoyed doing that.  Now today, I weigh 148 instead of 146, and I'm painfully aware of how pudding-ish my belly is.  I'm not saying I ate so much that suddenly my lower abdomen turned into everyone's favorite Cosby-related dessert, I'm pretty sure, based on things like photographic evidence, that I already had that belly.  But I think maybe it looks bigger today.  

Sometimes I see a part of me that I don't like, upper arms, thighs, gooey pudding-belly, and I think, "oh crap.  I'm gross."  

I've decided not to let my gross moments be the end of me.  As of this morning (this fat, gooey morning)  I still have 28 pounds to lose.  28 pounds from now, I won't have gross arms and legs and belly.  At least, that's the idea.  There are some things about havin' babies that don't just go away after losing a few pounds.  

Dang kids, better be worth it.

Marathon LOST!

DONE!

Hey guys, remember a few weeks ago when I said I wanted to lose 26.2 pounds in 13 weeks?  Well guess what.  I did it.  And it's only been 11 weeks and 3 days.  That's right.  I've got it goin on.

Just for some proof, to make it official, I took a picture of the scale.  The scale, mind you, that no longer creaks and groans that I weigh in the 170s.

So here are the reasons that this is freaking amazing:

1) I set out to meet a goal and low and behold I ACTUALLY DID IT.  I never actually do it.  This is amazing.

2) I met the goal early.  Even more amazing.

3) This is a weight I never reached last night.  Meaning that I am OFFICIALLY the skinniest I have been in my 6 1/2 years of marriage.  That's amazing too.

4) Since my post-Kaden start weight, I have now lost 30.2 pounds.  I've lost 30 pounds.  In 4 months, I've lost 30 pounds.  I feel pretty amazing about that.

5) Because I'm lower than before, this feels like I'm starting the weight loss that actually counts.  I'm not just working off a year's worth of "screw the scale, I'm pregnant, I eat what I want", I'm actually improving on my bests.  Once again, amazing.

Oh, and just in the spirit of "honesty", the BMI score on the scale is not my BMI score.  My real BMI score is 23.5.  My scale is confused because I lied to my scale.  I know that's weird, and I'm not proud, but there you have it.

Oh, and if I haven't said it before, weight loss is awesome, folks.  It wasn't so long ago that I was cheering about weight 169, and now... well, you can see.  This stuff freaking rocks, and is totally, TOTALLY worth the dessert-deprivation and extra exercise.  My new addiction? My own super sweet sexiness.

Boom.

Today is so freakin sexy I can't hardly stand it.

I have like, seventeen different things to cheer about today, so I'm gonna get right in and start listing.

1) This weekend, I busted through 150 and got well into the 140s.  That was awesome.

2) I am over HALF WAY THROUGH with all this weight loss!!  I set out to lose 56 pounds.  I have lost 29.4 pounds!!  No, that needs some more exclamation marks.  Like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  There we go.  So of course, this means I only have 26.6 pounds to go.  It means I am on the count down portion.  The riding downhill portion.  The AWESOME portion.

3) If you haven't done this math already, or checked out "The Mondays", today's weigh in was 146.6.  This was, essentially, my absolute absolutest low from Weight Loss 'Stravaganza 2010-2011.  Which also means, I HAVE LOST EVERY LAST NASTY POUND OF MY PREGNANCY WEIGHT. Excuse me while I do a bunch of sexy poses now.

4) This morning, I went for a run.  I logged 3 miles with an average pace of 11:55 per mile.  I get that this is ridiculously slow, heck, a year and a half ago I ran 13 miles at 11:30.  But since baby boy joined the family, I have been averaging closer to 13 minute miles, so this today, was lung-burningly fast.  And I was proud of me.

*As a side note, the secret was to increase the frequency of updates.  I've noticed that the fastest periods in my normal jogs come just after each mile, when I get the "this is how fast you are now" update.  So I changed it, so that I now get updates every quarter mile, or every 2-3 minutes.  It kept me motivated to keep up the pace.  It totes worked.

So that's my day's sum up.  I'm so glad to be back at my pre-preg low.  It's not the "end" for me, (ba-duh) instead, it feels a lot more like a beginning.  I've lost weight and gotten THIS thin before, but last year I couldn't get any farther.  This year I will, and I'll probably do it within the next week or two.  And it's gonna rock my freakin face off.

5)  Oh yeah, and remember that "lose a marathon" challenge I've been in?  Well I've got two more weeks and only 0.8 pounds to go.  That's right.  Go ahead and bow down to worship my awesome*.  You know you want to.

*Don't actually bow down and worship me, or my awesome.  It is idolatry and it is wrong.  Even if you really want to.

Superpower results are in!!

September 1st.  New month.  New weight loss.  New medical issues to contend with.  Let's git 'er started, y'all.

The radiation procedure went okay.  I was disappointed to see that it was apparently a "very small dosage" of radiation, and my pee didn't even glow.  Which makes me highly doubt that I will gain any superpowers, as I assume that glowing pee would typically come before the flying.

The most exciting part was that I got to experience what it's like to get the same IV 3 separate times, and I learned a new word:  Infiltration.  Okay, so it's not a new word, but I used to think it was only something that the FBI did to the mob, or Russian spies did to local American high schools.  NOW, I have learned that it means the crackpot nurse who just roughly shoved a syringe into the back of your IV actually shoved so hard that she shoved that needle straight out the other side of your vein and into some other tissue.  I also learned, that when you tell the same stupid nurse that, "hey, this hurts now, and it feels like there's a lot of pressure", she'll laugh like YOU'RE an idiot and say that, "well, there's no fluid going in yet, so that really shouldn't be a problem."  Then, she'll wiggle it around and poke at the needle part and when the IV machine beeps at her to say "hey you Flaming Ass Wipe, you infiltrated it,"  she'll say it "probably got clogged" and then say she has to flush it, and then will thoughtlessly shoot a syringe full of burning liquid into the tissue in your arm, immediately blowing it up like a water balloon.  After 10 or so minutes of this, she'll realize the problem, blame the equipment, and infiltrate your hand instead.  Finally, she'll place a SUCCESSFUL IV (WOW!  Look at you! Hoooooray!  Now you can move on to learning to successfully clean bedpans*!!) into your other arm, leaving you looking like a pincushion owned by a drunk seamstress who loves to stab things.

And, I'm not crying.  I'm not crying about getting needles poked in me because I am a wife and a mother and most importantly a grown up and I'm not afraid of needles poked in my arm and I CAN HANDLE PAIN, I CAN HANDLE PAIN, I CAN HANDLE PAIN.  But excuse me if my eyes start to... leak... a little bit.  I promise I'm not crying, my eyes just ALSO decided it was about time for a good flushing.  I'm not crying.

Oh, and did I mention that this nurse tells me she's been a nurse for over 20 years?!? Which I think begs the question, HOW CAN YOU DO THE SAME DANG JOB FOR SO DANG LONG AND BE SO DANG BAD AT IT?!???

::Sigh::  

But you know what, this mental conversation has got me thinking (wah wah):  It seems I may have had a superpower all along.  That is, assuming you can call magnetically attracting the absolute worst members of the medical profession and inviting them to put needles into all of your places a super power.  And I do.

*I'm gonna go ahead and apologize here and anywhere else for the twenty seven thousand nurses and doctors that I know personally and who might read this.  I don't mean to impugn your profession.  I just wish that there was some sort of standard of practices... maybe a licensing board?  to weed out the "professionals" who are going to cause permanent damage to your central nervous system because they cannot figure out where the needles are supposed to go.