"EVERY time I try to get out..."

No, that's a lie. Nobody pulled me back in. But I missed you, Internet. I missed you so hard it hurt a little bit, and I gotta say, I did not care for it.

So I started thinking: new year, new commitment to talking about things on the internet. Seems like an easier resolution than say, losing 30 pounds, so why the heck not.

For a blog that dealt so significantly with weight loss, it's probably the assumption of most readers that, when I stopped blogging, I started eating. But that's absolutely, totally and completely not true. I waited an additional three months to start eating, thank you very much.

After August and my last post here, I lost a few more pounds to hit a 2014 low of 144.2. I maintained an average weight of 145-148 throughout the fall, usually by exercising once or twice a week, dieting one or two days a week, and besides that, enjoying the fall and enjoying the holidays. It was glorious. It was terrifyingly busy. 

And then it was Christmas and somehow this morning I weighed 155.

But that's okay, because at some point this past year, if you don't count the last week or so, I lost about 32 pounds in 2014. And yeah sure, shut up, I gained 10 of that back (wow, that hurts my feelings to say), but what the heck would I even DO with my life if I didn't have 20 or 30 pounds to lose at any given moment?!?

I don't know.

My job.

Raise the kids.

Be a better human.

Blah blah blah.

Forget about all those crazy hypotheticals, because dang it, January is PRACTICALLY HERE, and it's time to lose 20 or 30 pounds again!!

Woohoo! Time to refocus my life on the things that really matter, like, for example, whether or not I have a muffin top. And world peace. Probably.

So today, 155.0. I did 100 jumping jacks this morning and very nearly died, and I’m back on the Slim Fast because I’m hoping my January 1 starting weight will be closer to 150 than 160, because at the rate I’ve been gaining this past week, there’s a fair chance I could see 170 before that ball drops.

And then I would have to cry, and no one wants to see that.

So anyway, happy fall, Halloween, Thanksgiving, winter, Christmas, and last couple days of 2014, folks. Hope you’ve had a great year, but if not, no worries. In 3 days, we all get hover boards.

Well that was a really dumb goal.

Jumped out of the shower today and started digging through my closet for some clean clothes to wear to work. Meaning of course, t-shirts and yoga pants need not apply. Found a shirt I haven't touched in forever, and low and behold, it fit. Woot! Bully for me! But I just couldn't for the life of me find a clean pair of jeans smaller than 14s but bigger than 4s. Harrumph. And that's when my eyes wandered up to the jeans I've had hanging over the bedroom mirror all week.

You remember those:

Should I? 

Just to try?

Well, this is probably going to make me cry, but whatever. I'm desperate. 

And it turns out that this:

So that was a really stupid goal. I mean, I'm 4 days into this new 30 day challenge, and doing well. But not that well. Not smaller jeans well. But there are two important factors at hand.

1) These jeans are stretchy. Like, almost one-size-fits-all kind of stretchy. I assume these jeans were built specifically to be Happy Good Mood Day Jeans. 

And

2) I'm afraid of my clothes and the feelings they make me have. I've got a good sized section of my own closet labeled "Don't Touch It, It'll Make You Cry". I have actually been afraid to try on clothes before, only to find that by the time I did, they were a little on the big side.

Needless to say, when I made these my goal, I had no real idea whether or not these pants would fit. All I knew was that last time I wore them, I was 5-10 pounds lighter than I am now. Which I assume means I'm getting super extra toned and sexy. You should see how hard I'm flexing right now. IT'S AMAZING. 

So although I'm glad I have clean pants on today, (dear heavens I hope I'm not compromising the structural integrity of these pants), this doesn't change anything. I still look pretty much exactly like I did in the last post, and I still have 26 more days of lunges and planks and crunches and tears and blood to go.

And I guess maybe I've learned it's time to  clean out my closet, try things on, and stop guessing what portion of my wardrobe is still "goal", and what portion is "work appropriate for today".

 No matter how much it's going to make me cry. 

Day 1 Again!!!! WOOOOOooooo... Boo.

I've been sitting around watching my husband lose 6 pounds off his already stupid stupid slim physique, while I sabatoged my own sad little attempts at weight loss by gorging myself on ice cream. (I earned it. Don't ask me how. I'm sure, SURE that I earned it.)

So today is, once again, Day One. I took some pictures for accountability sake. Or motivation sake. Or something sake.

Yikes. 

Yikes. 

Double yikes. Yikes.

OH. And I also took a picture of one of my bigger motivators right now. Something straight out of my memories:

The size 4 Express jeans I got in the fall of 2012, 6 months after Kid 2 was born and I had gotten 

down to 136 pounds. Dang I was good back then. 

The thing is that I'm getting really tired of remembering the good. I'm sick of fantasizing back on how good I felt, how comfortable I once was in my own skin. I want to stop remembering it and to start LIVING it again. I WANNA WEAR MY SUPER HOT BRAND NAME JEANS AGAIN, dang it!

So to go along with my diet and fit-it-in-when-I-can cardio, I thought I'd also do this:

I like the challenge thing because, well, last time I tried it, I did it, and then I was skinnier. And that's all I'm really looking for right now. Some kind of results, instead of none results.

So there you have it, there's my plan for late- August/ early-September.  Here's hoping for a fan-frick-TASTIC month and a super duper skinny fall, because, my friends, there will be pie. Oh yes, there WILL be pie.

Today is not going very well, Subtitle: Oh dear lord there is blood and urine everywhere

This morning has been a day. Quite, quite, quite a day. The house is a mess, I haven't slept well in MANY MANY NIGHTS, I have work to do and my computer is broken again because why not, and yes, there is blood and urine EVERYWHERE.

I'm so sleepy.

Maybe I should address the bodily fluids real quick. Kaden is potty training, and although he's giving it his bestest best shot, we had a little... big.... hugemongous accident this morning on the couch, which I learned about when I heard my boy screaming bloody murder and staring at his feet like they were being devoured by a dragon. But it was just pee, and we have a bathtub and a variety of carpet and upholstery cleansers at the ready so chill out Kid we are O. K.

Then we plopped down to read a book, all three kids climbing on top of me like I'm some sort of story telling jungle gym. I'm just getting to the good part, where the Snort somehow manages to deposit the baby bird back in his nest and he finally reunites with his mother (Sorry, should've said spoiler alert), when I look up and see the baby grinning like a maniac with a face covered in blood.

WELL THAT WAS TERRIFYING THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Seems that last night when I ran to the store, he fell, bumped his mouth, and got a cut. Now it seems that, while he plays, he occasionally reopens the cut which causes him zero pain, but lots more blood, which causes me to very nearly lose my bladder control.

Also, seems he accomplished this same feat while in bed last night, and upon closer inspection, his crib looks like something Dexter might have fun with.

But I cleaned just about everything. And I managed to give the 2 year old to take a bath and try again to use the big boy potty "Haha, I DID it, Mahp!" (That's me, I'm Mahp), and got the baby to fall asleep in my arms so that he didn't go back to reopening his wound and making his bedroom look like the site of a violent crime.

Course, as I was writing that, the 2 year old had another accident, and the baby woke up screaming when he heard his brother screaming and their sister wants to know "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?"

I don't know, sweetie. All I can say is, at least this time, there was no blood.

Food Network, please stop making my ears vomit.

The tapping of a measuring cup on a bowl. The repeated scraping of a fork as it smooshes up a banana. Eggs cracking. Silverware jingling. Everything pouring and clanking and smacking and scraping and oh my heavens, I'm going to be sick.

Crap, someone's whisking another egg. Clankclankclankclankclank squishsquishsquishsquish.

And that's just the food. We haven't yet gotten into the audio assault that is Giada's (absolutely necessary I'm sure) Italian pronunciation of every third ingredient. "This dish is traditionally made with Moh-thaaaa-RRRRRRRRRRRRellia, but I think I'm going to substitute the wah wah wah cheese for an extra kick of wah wah waaaah....", Or of course the Barefoot Contessa's constant attempts to convince the world of her Guinness book worthy collection of Gay Friends. Oh, they just love to stop in with a glass of wine and help out. Aaaaaaaawwwwww.

Which of course brings us to the Food Tasting. The horrible horrible Food Tasting. Please zoom in on my mouth while I masticate through the dish I just prepared myself, and listen while I give Meg Ryan's "I'll have what she's having" performance a real run for it's money. YES! YES! YES!

Then please let me describe what I'm eating while chewing directly into a lapel mic, crunching, smacking, mmmming, and (not a joke) occasionally snorting, all for your listening pleasure.

Now, I get that you're using a visual/audio medium to sell a product that's not primarily meant to be consumed in that way, but FOR FRICKS SAKE, we know you think it's good. Trust me here, nobody needs to have a faux-gasm for us to believe you think your cooking is delicious. Besides, what else WOULD you say on a televised tasting of your own cooking? "Holy mother of pearl, what is this steaming pile of horse manure and who allowed me access to a stocked pantry and allowed me to inflict this upon the world and myself?!"  No. You're going to smile and moan and collapse onto the counter and convince me that I won't feel so lonely in the night times if I have your spinach and Prrrroh-CHOOO-to laced grilled cheese MASTERPEICE.

On the other hand, thanks a ton, Food Network, since I'm supposed to be on a diet, and you may have just put me off the whole concept of food forever.

Day 4: Hulk LOVE Diet. Maybe Hulk need mood stabilizers.

Yesterday's immense suffering becomes today's super happy joy feeling. Today's weigh in: 150.8.

I AM ALMOST ALMOST ALMOST CLOSER TO 100 THAN 200. Wooooooooooo!

Whew, okay. So technically, after stomach flu day (did I mention I got a RAGING stomach flu the day before we left on vacation?  Good times) I weighed in at, like, 149.2, so today's weight isn't my best 2014 weight, but repeatedly emptying the contents of your stomach followed by crippling dehydration doesn't feel like healthy weight loss and probably shouldn't count. Also, I totally gained that weight back in the interim, so it REALLY shouldn't count.  So, there. Today is better.

In other news, I'm trying to become a new kind of grown up person, like, a real, grown up mature kind of person. The kind of person who cooks dinners, keeps a  budget, pays off debt, maintains a healthy weight... after first getting to a healthy weight, teaches my kids, cleans house, and most importantly for today, DOESN'T kill all the plants. So now, I'm growing... or slowly killing, depending on your perspective, green beans, radishes, and two kinds of strawberries. So far, the harvest has been: one very small strawberry. And that strawberry grew before I transplanted the little plants to my pots. That one little strawberry probably grew in the car on the way home from Idaho when it hadn't yet realized it was under my care. My kids ate it, each taking one little teensy bite.  

I'm kind of hopeful here, because, and I don't know if you can tell, but in the above photo, there are a few radishes and a couple strawberries trying VERY hard to be alive. Keep it up little guys! I believe in you! Philippians 4:13!!!

Unfortunately, the big pot variety here (the big pot has different strawberries than the 3 other pots, and I don't remember what any of them are called), so the Big Pot Variety are looking very sad. Wilty. Some browning, no blossoms anywhere. So I'm trying more sun. Maybe less water. I'm so sorry tiny plants, please don't die, I'm trying to give my children Life Experiences, and so far the only Experience they are having is that Everything Turns Brown Shrivels Up And Gets Dumped In The Green Trash Can. 

My expectations are low here, but like in some many other ways, my dreams remain lofty. And hey, remember, I've lost 2.2 pounds already this week. Anythings, possible, Guys. ANYTHING IS FREAKING POSSIBLE. 

Day 3: HULK HATE DIET.

It's Day 3 of Once Again Starting Another Diet Again Redux Again One More Time (I could probably stand to work on my titles, but that's neither here nor there) and OH MY GOSH IT'S HORRIBLE.

Something happens on Day 3 of Diets, I'm not exactly sure why it happens due to I'm not a scientist, but Day 3 is when my body suddenly becomes a DIET HATING MONSTER AND I WILL EAT AAAALL THE THIIIIINGS.  I hate diets. It's not even that I'm hungry, I don't think. Am I? I can't even tell anymore. It's just that, well, I know I'm not allowed things and GAAAAAAAAAAH.

I apologize for all the type-screaming, but unless you're particularly new here, you know that when I'm on a diet,  this is where I come to bleed out all of my wretched wretched feelings.  But this is my process, and this is my blog, so deal with it.

I'm really sorry about that. I'm not usually quite so aggressive. Trust me, it's the diet talking.

The day didn't start too bad. Monday and Tuesday were fantastic, and today started with coffee, chased down by 45 minutes of Zumba. Roast beef sandwich for lunch, chased down by SOMEONE WOKE UP MY APPETITE I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. ehem.

On the bright side, I'm complaining here instead of actually eating anything. And hey, by the way, I'm pretty sure it's actual hunger. Or something. I don't know, I'm miserable.

My official Monday starting weight was 153. Today, I am 152.2.  It's certainly not miraculous change, in fact, it's still about half a pound worse than I was last Friday (It's possible husband and I made some not-good choices last weekend. One last group of six unhealthy meals before it's diet time.) But I'm hopeful. I'm cutting back. I'm exercising more.  I'm doing the stuff that has to work, because it's the law. And hopefully days 4-90 will be less painful and more skinny-er.

Oh, one more thing. I did a Google image search for "Diet Crying" because of my feelings, and along with all the semi-amusing diet memes, pictures of food, sad children, and older ladies lounging in sexy bathing suits on the stairs (wait, what??), I found this:

Which I'm pretty sure is a turtle who just got caught cheating on his diet. Put. The grass. Down.  It's just not worth it, buddy. Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

Is it Fall yet??

Well folks, the summer is done, and it's back to real life now. And by summer, I of course mean the week of vacation we got, spending time with family and lounging by the pool. But alas, now we are home, good ol' work to do, floors to scrub, bills to pay, bedtimes to enforce home.

Our life is about to change, it seems. The Old One is turning 5 in October, and so we're starting down the education superhighway.  (WOAH. Did you know that superhighway was one word?!? Because I did not, until I wrote it and the internet was like, "Don't worry dude, you're a'ight" And I was like "Really??" and it was like "Totally, man, you don't need to change anything. We're cool." And so then I was like, "Well, if you're sure..."  SECOND SIDE NOTE: My internet word checker person seems to think I have a penis. Also, solely based on this conversation, I think he may have gotten into the pot.)

Aaaaanywaaaaaay.... we're homeschooling our kids. Well, kid. For now. We're starting in about 4 weeks (HOLY COW IS THAT FOR REAL?!? 4 WEEKS????) and while I am excited, the Old One has taken to telling people that her classroom is "Just the corner of the living room", which yes, is true, but geez kid, have a little imagination about it. I mean COME ON, we've got a bookshelf and a magnet calendar and everything!

The school in our home :-P

I'm thinking I might write a blog about it. I dunno, new stage in life, new blog. Plus, I've been perusing the internets and I decided that the one thing they were missing is more 30-something dorky moms talking about the weird ways they choose to raise their kids. So once again, you're welcome, internets.

Husband and I are starting diets again... Tomorrow. We've started to lay out the ground rules, I've got about 24 more pounds to go till Supreme Ultimate Goal Weight, but since I'm down 26 since January, I'm happy to, at least, have made it past the half way marker. Woot! Here's for a super skinnier fall!

Well that's about it for now, but before we go, one last little present from the internets:

Have a lovely Monday, friends!

Well, guess I can check that one off the list...

This morning I heard my children getting into what was becoming a pretty concerning argument. But because I'm making a concerted effort to curb my desire to intervene in the small ones'  interactions until there is significant risk of bleeding, (read: I'm making a concerted effort to become a lazier parent),  I decided to just listen in.

Madelyn: "Kaden, stop standing on the books! GET OFF!"
Kaden: "No. Why?"
Madelyn: "Because they're BOOKS and we don't STAND on our BOOKS!"
Kaden: "WHY??"
Madelyn: "BECAUSE IT WILL HURT OUR BOOKS! WE DON'T STAND ON BOOKS!"
Kaden: "WHY?!?"
Madelyn: "Kaaaaadeeeeeeen! Stop saying why!!"
Kaden: "WHY???"
Madelyn: "STOP SAYING WHY!!"
Kaden: "WHY??"
Madelyn: "STOP SAYING WHY! I DON'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU SAY WHY!"
Kaden: "Oh. Sowwy."
Madelyn: "That's okay Kaden. I'm sorry too. I know that you didn't mean it, and it was just an accident."

And then they resumed their play. Happily.

Later that morning when I was feeding the baby, Madelyn, who had been running around the house playing with her brother most of the morning, came back into the living room by herself.

Me: "Madelyn, what happened to Kaden?"
Madelyn: "Oh, he seemed like he was getting tired, so I just put him to bed."

So... guess I've got this parenting thing taken care of.  On to the next thing. Maybe I'll take up archery.

Special awesome stuff shout out for: Yoga Pants.

Yoga Pants, for transitioning seamlessly from pajamas to day clothes, requiring nothing more than a lowering of one's expectations about her own life. Thanks, Yoga Pants!

Lights... Camera... ME!

As you all WELL know, I hate, truly loathe, all forms of braggadocio and self promotion, but sometimes... sometimes, you just can't help it.

Today I got a phone call from the "Northern Los Angeles Area".  I was intruiged.  The call was from Terry, who had heard, (I can only assume, from one of my adoring fans), that I've been interested in getting into acting and/or modeling.  It turns out that Terry has directed sitcoms, and he would like to set me up with a Hollywood acting and/or modeling agent.

I really hadn't thought much about my acting and/or modeling aspirations before today.  I mean, as an undeniably attractive and talented person, it's not a terrible SHOCK to me that Hollywood has come calling, but I've also got so many other things going for me, other Irons in the Fire if you will, that I just don't know if I can give my acting and/or modeling career the attention it deserves.

That being said, I was impressed at Director Terry's interest in me, at his ability to notice my obvious raw talent in acting and/or modeling.  He also gave some helpful suggestions, like, "You should never have to pay someone to take you on as a client".  Of course I know this.  Maybe those with less natural ability would have to pay others for representation, but not me, that's for certain.

It's funny, and maybe a little bit sad, how much my poor husband has had to strive to get any really Hollywood attention for his writing, and here, with no work on my part, I've got Hollywood directors just knocking down my door, begging me to become an actress and/or model. And all I had to do was press 1 to be connected to an agent instead of pressing 2 to be removed from Director Terry's call list.

Oh, and don't worry.  If I do decide to grace Director Terry with my business and become a major acting and/or modeling star, I would never forget the little people.  Because it really is all you little people that make this all worth while.

WHY IT'S SO FRACKING IMPORTANT FOR ME TO BE UNATTRACTIVE. A theory.

I can only assume it's character building. Probably, I would be a wretched self entitled racist puppy-kicking hater of everything good and righteous if I got the chance to be a real life attractive person. I can only assume that my yucks exist because they must exist or, like, I would die.

Dang it, if my case of the uglies doesn't have some deeper philosophical meaning, then forget it.  Forget everything.

I friggin quit.

I'm losing weight. I weight 5 pounds less now than I did at my high school graduation. Also, I learned how to apply makeup, and my hair doesn't look quite as orange as it once did, my crazy tooth gap decided to magically fix itself, and I just bought these wonderful new red shoes that just might just be the key to EVERYTHING.

So if I'm being completely honest, I'd say that I was almost starting to feel a little bit hotstuffs up until a few days ago.

My face, with it's 7 scars and generally comic features, has found a whole new way to get weird.  You know that awesome 8 miles of running I did on Saturday? Well it had an exciting new effect.

My face-skin is tanning botchy and weird. Like, I look a little bit like bleach dripped out of my hairline and splashed on my face.  I look like I have that thing Michael Jackson SAID he had which motivated him to turn himself into the White Witch. It's new.  And weird.  And WHY IS IT NECESSARY FOR ME TO CONSTANTLY FIND WAYS TO LOOK WEIRD? Stop it, Mirror. Pick on someone your own size. Like the window. 

The thing about having been an ugly duckling is that, you're supposed to turn into a beautiful swan, not a funky duck.  Of course it would seem that I have not received that memo, as my whole self appears hell-bent on the funky duck thing. 

Anyway, there you have it. Lesson for tonight: Laugh at the Mirror, folks, because he's SERIOUSLY trying to make you look like an idiot here, and you shouldn't let him. He's totally just jealous. 

I'M NOT FAT ANYMORE HIP HIP HOORAY!!

And then there was April.  And then came May.  And here we are.

Running.  That's the ticket. Or at the least, that's the reason I hurt from head to toe this particular evening. It's also why I know that I live almost exactly 4 miles from my little brother's house, door to door. And then, almost exactly 4 miles back, in case you're wondering.  Across a road bridge, around and through 4 small parks, along a dried up river bed where people ride horses, past a Christian church, an LDS temple, an elementary school, a junior high, a high school soccer field, and an adult education... place.  Through dirt, over roads, along side walks. In the sun. Over the lizards and the acorns and the trash. Straight through an inappropriately timed "Earth Day Celebration" (because by the way, wasn't Earth Day... not today??) which included booths for "new energies" and Mexican food and... some hipster dude with a beard and a guitar and far too little body fat.  I'm not the weird one, Earth Day Celebrators who stared confused at the jogger in their midst. You're the one blocking the trail with your tents and your hipsters.  You're the one who seems to smoke too much pot to remember that Earth Day was like, 2 weeks ago or something.  I'm not the weird one.

I know I say it bunches and bunches, but running is COOL, guys.  It makes your body hurt, but hurt in a way that says "I'm a super cool badass who RUNS".  And it's grand. Running accomplishes multiple goals. Today, running got me to visit my sister-in-law and my outrageously adorable neice. And then running took me home.

Oh yeah, and running got me down to a a new low weight, and a new goal met: 154.8. Guys... I'm  not fat anymore. I'm officially, albeit, barely, a HEALTHY WEIGHTED PERSON. Thanks, Running!

And, AND, once upon a time, running did this:

That's me in April of 2010, then April of 2011, just after completing a 13.1 mile run. 45 pounds of weight lost in the line between those pictures. 45 pounds that were replaced by health. Joy. And the beginnings of comfort in my own skin.  It was pretty sweet.

So I haven't been blogging. And I haven't been doing an AWESOME job losing weight. But I'm making better choices. Eating less, and of course, finding time for running. And I'm sure bunches of you have gym memberships or yoga mats or PX90 DVDs that keep your hineys nice and tight, but it's definitely going to be running for me. 7 miles Monday.  8 today. That's where I get my little piece of awesome.

Post 7 mile run, legs gave out, don't care anymore that I'm allergic to grass, selfie:

Oh, and as a note to people who like to pull your car up behind runners and then honk at them? Eat poo and die. Because the one thing my already strained cardiovascular system didn't need was a heart attack.  You massive jerks.

Not my normal schtick, but it's still me, I swears it.

I have to set aside talking about the size of my butt for just a minute (don't worry, we'll get back to ithat soon enough), because I just had a freaking LIFE CHANGING.... well... BUDGET CHANGING experience and I thought that yes, I have to share this with all the humans.

Husband and I have been Sprint customers since the dawn of time.  Because they were cheaper.  Because husband didn't want to lose the phone number he got when we were in college.  Because because because.

And our Sprint bill has gone up over time, (because that's how you thank long standing customers, I'm SURE) and we have now been paying $150 plus taxes and surcharges ($161 total) per month to use our two iPhone 4s's.  It felt ridiculous.  We need data plans for our jobs, but paying this much feels outrageous, doesn't it?  Like, how is this one thing that's getting continuously MORE EXPENSIVE to use?!  Isn't technology supposed to get cheaper over time?  Shouldn't competition somehow fix this ridiculous rise to make your cell phone bill look like a second freaking mortgage?  Save me, Capitalism!

And because the universe is a beautiful place, it turns out, that if you know where to look, there ARE other options.

We found Ting.  It uses Sprint service, and charges you for what you use, bumping you into slightly higher brackets based on your actual usage.  No overages.  No guesswork.  You just pay for what you use, and YES, you get to share your everything with all your devices.

So what does this mean for us?  For one, it means that we now have Ting services using the iPhones we have used for the past 2 years, and are still in great shape.  It means we don't have contracts, and since our contract was up this month anyway, it was a freebie.  (Though they do provide some fiduciary support for folks who need to get out of their current contracts.)

And most importantly, it means that instead of a $150 bill, based on our higher month's usage, we'll be paying about $45 a month.  Most months, lower than that.

Oh yeah, and when I called customer service to have them plug in Husband's parents as our refer-ers (we each get a $25 credit for that referral), a human answered the phone.  No service asking me to push 3 for help with my international wireless television service or push 7 if I'd rather speak in Cantonese (I would, thank you very much).  Just a super friendly guy from Toronto who says it's like, stupid cold there and he's crazy jealous of our 80 something degrees.  I almost died right there on the phone. I had no idea what to do.  I kept trying to shout account numbers and social security numbers and my mother's maiden name to see if that would direct me to the right Hold Time. I tried pushing a combination of numerals and pound signs until he had to ask me very politely to stop before he came to visit and take my phone away. Doncha know.*

So I'm sorry that I sound like an advertisement, but I like saving money (Lie. I LOOOVE saving money.) and when you find something great, it's good to share. I learned that once.

So here's a link if you wanna check it out for yourself.  And yeah, if you use that referral, we both get $25 bucks off and oooh how sweet that is.

THIS. THIS IS IT. CLICK THIS.

And oh yeah. In advance, you are very welcome.

*That was a joke about Canada, eh.**
**So was that. Cuz he's from Canada. You get it.

GBA. DOMINATED. A month in review.

I DID IT I DID IT IT'S DONE AND I DID IT!!!!!!!

Woooooohoooooooo this has been a rough month.  30 straight days of exercises designed specifically to replace all my gooey gooness with rock solid muscles I'd never heard of before.  And folks, I freakin did it.

So to sum up, here's a list of today's fun-tivities:
70 Crunches
40 Boy Push-Ups
100 Leg Lifts
250 Squats

It's exciting to remember that, only 30 days ago, I could barely do 5 pushups.  30 days ago, I needed to take a break in the middle of my 25 leg lifts.  For serious, I can tell, I can SEE and FEEL the fact that I've built some amazing new muscles.  The top of my thighs feel like they were carved out of freakin MARBLE.  Sometimes I like to punch them to see how much they do not at all respond to getting punched.  But you can't punch my thighs.  That's not a meaningful measure for you.  So here's some facts and stuff about the last 30 days:

Distance lost around my:

Waist:  2.5 Inches

Belly:  2.5 Inches

Butt: 1.5 Inches

Thigh:  1 Inch

Upper Arm: 0.75 Inches

Weight Lost:

About 6 pounds

Another achievement unlocked: About a week and a half ago, I developed the ability to button my size 8 jeans without torturing either them or myself.  It's been very nice, learning to enjoy wearing jeans again.  I mean, those yoga pants (pictured below) have been pretty wonderful. Not complaining about the spectacular stretchy wonder of yoga pants.  But just the same, I definitely missed the jeans.

Now I'm not going to get all ridiculous and say that, in one month, I've gotten "bikini ready".  Goooosh no. Getting bikini ready would involve a great deal more weight loss and miracles.  But just the same, stuff happened.  More stuff than 6 pounds would lead you to believe.  Enough that, over the past few days, I've noticed.  Like, in the mirror.  And it's been good.

So, for the most dirty and honest review of the Guns Buns and Abs review, and for your viewing... just, viewing, here's me, day 1, day 30.

So, I'm loving my new muscles.  I'm loving feeling a bit more toned.  So even though these past 30 days have been TORTUROUS, I'm not ending.  Keep dieting.  Keep cardio-ing.  And keep doing these horrible muscle building activities until my "after" pictures would look smokin' hot in a bikini.

That's all for today folks, happy Friday!

Exercises. These things are important.

So I started this 30 day challenge to 1) Get super fit and hot and stuff, and 2) Review the exercise and tell you if it was crazy awesome or a crazy waste of time.

But I'm gonna go ahead and fail now.  Please.  Don't judge.  Just let me explain.

I'm not done.  Today I did day 19. I haven't missed a single rep, a single exercse, a single day.  I am a MAJOR Guns, Buns and Abs bad ass.  And I'm not ending.  I'll definitely finish the 30 days.  And I'll definitely continue doing these kinds of torturous exercises for horrible horrible days and weeks and months to come because A) Husband said a friendly thing about my derriere and it made me feel pretty oh so pretty, and B) I lost 1.75 inches from my waist in only 2 weeks of crunches, leg lifts, pushups, and squats.

So as of last Thursday, that's a total of 3.5 inches lost from my waist since January 1.  Done.  Poof.  Gonzo. Sayonara and vaya con Dios.  Just don't come back. 

Let's pause a moment and visualize 3.5 inches.  

Here ya go:

CAN YOU SEE THAT? And if anyone out there is thinking, "Sure, I can see it, BFD", to you I say IT IS A BIG FREAKING DEAL THANK YOU VERY MUCH. 3 1/2 inches is dramatic.  It means that over 10% of the distance around my waist is just, it's, well, it's just GONE!  And that, my friends, is nothing to sneeze at.

So, why am I quitting again?  Right.  I had a point.

Well, I'm losing inches.  That's for dang sure.  But for the first 2 weeks of  this plan, I lost zero pounds.  I know, I was probably eating between 1500-2000 calories instead of 1200.  I wasn't going to bed hungry.  And I wasn't doing any cardio.  I wanted to see what THIS exercise would do, all on its own.  And now I know:  It firms up muscles.  It helps your pants buckle, and it  helps those 3 1/2 inches leave your waist. It makes you strong, and it encourages your husband to say nice things about your butt.  But to lose pounds, it seems there's still no real trick.  Eat fewer calories. Burn more calories. And AAAARRRRRGGGGHH I definitely still need to lose pounds.

So I'm not so much quitting as I am... adding.  I'm adding in cardio. I'm going to bed hungry.  And sad.  And I think, I think, it's starting to work.  Well, I can button my jeans at least.  And the weight has begun to drop, albeit ever so slightly.

So there you have it, my sort of, half time, convoluted LOOKITSASQUIRREL! review of the Guns Buns and Abs exercise plan.  I'm getting better at all the things.  I also dread them all a little more each day.  But folks, if you're wondering if it's worth it, don't forget:

I took this picture with my toe.  Because I love you guys.  Also, I should totally invent photography yoga. I think there are uses.

Happy belated March 1! Time for an update

Ow.  Exercising hurts like crazy.  But I think I'm getting better.  Gosh, I hope I'm getting better.

Today's work out:
60 Crunches
12 Pushups
130 Squats
85 Leg Lifts

There is no part of this anymore that doesn't hurt.  It's all horrible.  I started at 50 squats, and I used to be ok with that, and mostly okay with the crunches.  But today is day 13 of THE CHALLENGE, and, well, 130 squats.  That is more.  Everything is shaking and everything is hurting.  But it's okay, because I'm pretty sure it's like, a sexy kind of hurting.  So booyah.

Can I stop real quick and say that I haven't missed one single day since starting this challenge?  13  days straight, which means that some of those exercises have been done at 6am before getting ready  for work. I gotta say, Old Me is CRAZY impressed by Now Me.

I took my March 1 measurements and weight on March 1, but I decided to hoard them for a few days before sharing. Because I'm selfish. And, I suppose, unenthusiastic.

March 1 weigh in: 166.
Weight lost since February 1: 2 pounds
Weight lost since January 1: 10 pounds

Belly lost since February 1: 1 inch
Belly lost since January 1: 3 inches

Waist lost since February 1: 1.5 inches
Waist lost since January 1: 3.25 inches

It's progress.  The measurements make me happy, because you can SEE THOSE RIGHT IN YOUR FACE HOLES.  Even when the weight is dropping slowly, it's a reminder that when I'm skinny, I don't have to be a "fat skinny".  I'm gonna be "wear a bandana as a shirt skinny".  Or at the very least, "button my pants skinny".

Speaking of pants. I have been wearing my Size 8 jeans lately, and I think they look pretty good except for this tiny little thing, which is that I cannot button them.  No, that's not true.  I absolutely CAN button them, but I am an advocate for the ethical treatment of my favorite pair of jeans, and buttoning them almost certainly constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. So instead I do the rubber band trick that you're supposed to use when you're just a little bit pregnant, even though, of course, I am not just a little bit pregnant.  Free pass here: If anyone looks at me and THINKS I'm a little bit pregnant. I do not care.  I am not insulted.  I'll just blame my rubber band.

Happy belated March 1, Friends! Don't go too nuts with the green stuff this month. You're probably not Irish. And it just makes you look crazy.

Oh and  yes: I changed some things about the blog.  The weigh ins pages, and the design here.  I'm going for clean.  Sleek.  Sexy.  As minimalist in my page design as I intend to be in my pants size. HAAA. Okay. I'm done now.

Mixed Results-- Mixed Emotions

Today is Day 8 of my 30 day experiment in Muscles.  And I'm not totally sure how to feel.  My weight's been hanging out steadily in my current lowish range (165-167) without jumping back up to 170 like I've seen after cheating in previous weeks, but without dropping either.  And today? 167.

Craaaap-tastic.

I had a pretty good idea that I wasnt going to be horribly pleased with the weigh in, and so decided I'd take my measurements, to see if there was another way to redeem the week.  And it turns out that YES.

After 1 week of squats, crunches, pushups and leg lifts, I've lost:

1/4 inch from my neck
1/2 inch from my belly
1 ENTIRE INCH from my waist

That's right.  After only 7 DAYS of this stuff, I've taken an inch off my waist.  And the 1/2 inch from my belly?  That's conservative.  I could've called it 3/4 inches.  So yeah.  I can't quite say it's been a bad week.

It should be noted, however, that I have lost exactly zip-diggity from the booty, thighs or upper arms. But in all likelihood, the booty is just not really going to go anywhere.  Some people are just more... bootyful than others.  And I am one of them.

I'm 12 pounds over weight.  I'm 40 pounds more than I'd like to be.  And it might be time to go for a couple jogs again and crank this baby up a notch or 10.  But whether or not the weigh-ins care to show it, the work is working.  The leg lifts make me want to cry and stuff, but it's working.

It's working.

It's working.

I think I can.

Some stuff about my muscles

I can't quite remember the last time I felt so terrible and so awesome all at the same time.  After giving birth maybe? Different kind of awesome. Different kind of terrible.

Today was day 3 of the Guns, Buns and Abs journey.  I thought I'd post it here so that you can all be amazed at the incredible things I'm doing.  Or scoff at how pathetic I am for complaining so much about it.  Or just join me so we can suffer together.  Whichever one floats your boat.

Remember though, I AM adding an increasing amount of crunches to this routine as well.  This week was 50.  Starting Monday, it'll be 55.  Guys, I'm gonna have sooo many muscles next month.  It's, like, amazing.

In non-muscle-getting news, I went back to work this past week, which was supremely emotionally difficult for me. This is primarily due to the fact that I am a person who tries to overreact in every available opportunity to do so. Freak out aside, it's really not so bad. We're tightening up the budget and I'm only going to be out of the house for one really long and one really short day every week. Even at this though, after my first long-ish day away from home, the baby decided he no longer wishes to eat formula (something he's always been happy to take before, even when his pops and I spend and evening out and he's with his grandma). On a side note, it's neat to learn that painfully dramatic overreaction is most assuradely an inherited trait.

When I heard he wouldn't eat, I was heading home from my second day of work, and almost immediately had my finger on the call button, ready to quit my job on the spot.  MY BABY MISSES ME AND NEEDS ME AND HE'S GOING TO STARVE IF I HAVE TO GO TO WORK! Of course back in reality, the rest of us are going to starve if I DON'T go to work, so I guess this little dude's just going to have to get used to it.  The first two managed to survive it somehow.

I can say that, despite the emotional trauma, busier schedules, and bit of added stress, there might be some real benefits to out of the house work. It's kind of invigorating to go to a place, be asked questions you know how to answer, and to  have all of your attention focused on this one little thing. If I'm really honest, I'd say that I'm always excited on the drive back home, and that I walk back in the house more envigorated than I am on most other days. Not that I wouldn't prefer to stay at home, mind you, but you gotta find a bright side.  There's always a bright side.

Alrighty then.  Bed time for this night.  Hasta la vista.  Hasta la proxima vez. Hasta cuando tengo mas musculos.  Hasta.

Challenge Accepted.

That's it. I finally got on my own nerves again.  Gettin preeeeetty dang tired of my own bull-dookie.  So it's time for a change. I'm pretty sure.  Yes. Yes.  Time for a change.

Now I'm not saying that I HAVEN'T lost any weight. I'm just saying that  it's going really slow and annoying...ly.  About 10 pounds in very nearly two months.  Nope, noooot nearly good enough.  Slow weight loss is not encouraging.  And while we're supposed to be all patient and happy with slow progress because it's vastly better than NO progress, I find myself more, well... not those things.  Slow weight loss feels like way too much work and practically no results which leads very directly to quitting. 

And sure, I considered quitting.  I'll be honest.  I even tried to sell my husband on the benefits of having a chunk-tastic wife.  You know. The joys of eating massive amounts of wonderful wonderful junkfood.  Bigger boobs.  All that jazz.  And while he was quick to agree that there were certainly some finer points to un-weightloss, well, I don't think I totally won that one.

So.  Time to go in another direction.

Crap.

I can't run.  It straight up bums me out, but after 2 weeks of hardcore knee and back pain, running's been ruled out for the time being.  So new plan?  MUSCLES.  Freakin, hardcore, toned-ness, muscly muscles.  Muscles to keep my body together, muscles to keep me out of pain, muscles to look awesome and toned, muscles that, as soon as I lose the 30 plous pounds of fat I'm carrying, will show up and look IN-FOH-REAKING-CREDIBLE.

Oh yeah, and I intend to do better at dieting.  Because food is absolutely the enemy. The incredible, delicious, life-affirming enemy.*

I've decided to try out one of those 30-day fitness challenge that everybody sees on Pinterest but nobody ever actually does.  It's called something like the Guns Buns and Abs Challenge, and basically just involves doing an ungodly number of squats, push-ups, and leg lifts every day for a month.  And I'm sticking to my daily crunches, because so far that's the only exercise I've been (mostly) faithful with this year.  

So today I:

Did 50 crunches

50 squats

5 boy push-ups

and 25 leg lifts

And I took some pictures and some measurements, some stuff to re-take in a month, because if I'm going to do this, I'm sure as heck going to be scientific about it.

Does that list of exercises sound hard?  Because it didn't sound hard.  But then I did them and I couldn't stop shaking for a half an hour and so there's that.  

30 days.  30 days and the pictures should change, and the BIG GOAL is to lose at least 12 pounds so I can be a healthy weighted human again.  Although I'm pretty sure I've never lost 12 pounds in 1 month so maybe this is all a bunch of crazy talk, and if I lose like, 8 pounds instead, I'd be pretty cool with that too.

So yep, it's time to start over.  For the seven hundred thousandth time.  And from a world filled with grace and forgiveness and forgetness and lots and lots and lots of squeaky clean starts, let me say, once again: Giddyup.

*If you're actually trying to diet right now, I'm really sorry you had to read that and remember how incredible food is. And if you are dieting, this MAY not be the best place on the Internet** for you to hang out. I mean, it's better than Pinterest, for sure, but still. Not great. 

**Quick question: why does autocorrect insist on capitalizing Internet? Is it really a proper noun? Should I stop using articles before it? I'm sorry, Internet. Seems I've never shown you the respect you demand. 

Resolutioning resolutions

You guys, confession.  I am doing, like, a TERRIBLE job at my new year's resolution. You know, the one where I said I intended to be a Sexy Warthog?

Well, yep.  At least I've got the Warthog part down.

I'm starting to think that my goals of losing tons of weight, engaging in proper skin care, and shaving my legs might, in fact, have been overly lofty.  Because, dude, I am NOT DOING ANY OF THESE THINGS.  And it's really starting to bum me out.  Oh, and to add injury to insult, my 5 sad little attempts at running in the past couple of weeks have cost me my structural integrity.  My lower back is now spasming regularly, and my knees ache like nuts when I try to use them, say, for walking and things.  Because of this, I FREAKING WADDLE NOW.  I wobble from side to side more than forward because this is the only way I can move without crying.

So let's sum up.  Still fat. Still hairy. With some gnarly dry skin.  And now, walking like a partially handicapped duck.  So I'm thinking, let's just go ahead and forget those things.  I think it's time to reconfigure my goals for February and beyond, and to focus on more achievable things like showering, owning makeup, and changing my underwear on a somewhat regular basis.

Or maybe I can just reclaim the idea of sexy and make it whatever the heck I want.  For example, last night, I stayed up late to finish our taxes.  And I really can't think of many things sexier than itemized deductions. Grrrr.

That's it for tonight.  I need to go comb out that leg hair, because personal hygiene is a real priority in my life.

OH BUT OH! I forgot to tell you!  This Friday I'm going to someplace called a salloon... sallone... saleone...sal-on?  And getting a beauty treatment.  What for my beauty.  I'll be sure to let you know if it helps me get my sexy back.  At the very least, it means my face gets washed this week! Woooo!

New Month, New Me

Happy February, Friends!

I started the month with my weigh in, landing at 168 point zip-diddly.  Not quite as low as I'd hoped, I've been kind of grounded around 168.5-170 for the past couple weeks and hoped for a sudden plummet, but it's also, officially, the lowest weight I've had since baby 3 showed up, so I'll take it.  I undid the holidays by the end of January.  

To help me watch the movement here, I've also been taking two measurements of myself:  The smallest part of my torso (right under my rib cage) and the largest part of my torso (over my hip bones and across the kangeroo pouch of my lower abdomen).  Of course I'd like to lose weight in other places, and of course it will happen, but I don't care at all to watch it happen.  It's logical, trust me.  I don't want to watch my chest shrink (because that part gives me sad feelings), and I don't really care if my booty diminishes (because I don't want none unless ya got buns, hun), and having a super skinny neck just means that even midgets and carnies can strangle me, and I'm not interested in advertising that kind of information.  I want a tighter tummy, that is all.  

So here you are, my January results:

8 pounds lost

2 inches lost from the kangeroo pouch

1.75 inches lost from my waist

So, not bad? The inches are fun to check once a month, because even when the weight isn't moving as fast as I'd like, I can be happy to see that, for example, I've lost 26% of the inches I want to see lost on my waist, and my size 12 Goodwill jeans are starting to get ever so slightly baggy.  So yeah. Hoo-rah.

And oh yeah, for what it's worth, I've started running again.  Yesterday I did 3 miles for the 4th time, and have adjusted my speed from over 13 minutes per mile to an average of 11 min, 30 seconds a mile.  And man it felt wonderful(terrible) to push this chubby body that hard.  And I kinda wanna do it again right now.  But my knee and my ankle and my lower back hurt, and I don't want to ruin me, seeing as I'm the only me I have.  So... I'll think about it.

Tomorrow is Super Bowl.  Tomorrow, we watch people engage in amazing feats of physical strength while we engage in amazing feats of physical consumption.  And yep, I'm gonna eat with the best of 'em.  Maybe I'll post some shame pictures to remind me of how diety I need to be on Monday.  That'll be good.

Happy weekend, folks.  Good luck to your favorite team tomorrow!  Personally, I was just happy to see the Patriots and the Niners lose a couple weeks ago.  I'm not really a football fan.  I'm a football antagonist? Opponent? Enemy? Detractor? Anyway, I watch football to see those teams lose.  So that was a really good day.

Anyway, once again, have a happy weekend.  Oh, and if you happen to be a midget-fan of one of the aforementioned teams, just know that my neck is thick and ropey and not at ALL good for strangling.  Just so you know.

This one is not very nice.

I slowed to a walk and glance down at my legs.  My thigh muscles stared back up in horror. "Well, now what the HELL was that???"

It was a run, my friends.  And it's time we got back in the game.

I slowed down (if you can call it slowing down, considering I was hardly moving in the first place) at 2.25 miles in to my first run in over 16 months.  At that point, I walked, stumbled, and cried a little for about another 1/4 mile, and then, get this, I ran another 3/4 mile.  And this is important because guess what?  All told, it means I ran 3 whole miles.

Boom, Beaches.

I also realized that I am an absolute jerk.  Like, a real MEGA jerk.  Okay, so maybe I didn't just realize it.  Tuth be told, this was probably information I already had.

So the thing is, it seems I can't find the gumption to keep running for miles and miles unless I have an enemy.  Who is this enemy, you ask?  And the answer is that it's probably you.  Yeah, you, right there, reading this blog on your couch, eating cheetos and hoping my writing gets more entertaining, I see you there.  And I'm talking to you.  Because I want to fight you.

I want to fight you, and be faster than you, or run farther than you, and even though you're probably skinnier than me, I will fight you.  I will beat you. I. Will. END you.

But it's okay though, cuz I know you want to fight me too.

I know, because I once had a bunch of people read my blog and say they thought maybe they'd like to start running too.  And then all of a sudden, I'd notice them posting about runs, signing up for races, and talking how they got all faster and skinnier than me. The inspiration?  If I could do it, ANYONE could.  As far as I'm concerned, that's a freakin war cry.  But you know what?  I don't fight a lot of those people any more, because some of them got way better and so now it hurts my feelings, and I long ago learned to never enter into a land war in Asia.  Or fight with someone who is better than you.  I'm pretty sure that's what that means.

Competition is good.  It keeps you striving, keeps you trying harder.  No, it's not particularly "nice", but as I've said, I think that maybe I'm not very nice.  And certainly, nice girls wouldn't growl so many obsenities under their breath as they rounded mile three and it felt like their knees were about to surrender to the unyielding truth of gravity.  And let's be honest, nice doesn't get you sexy.  It just gets you nice.  And maybe it helps you make friends, but I'm still contending that friends are overrated.  

So that's it for tonight, folks.  The baby has begun to unleash The Toots, which is a pretty good sign that he's about to wake up and I'll be required to be a mother again.  Until next time, happy weekending!