Category Archives: life

Bella Luna

I met a boy.

We met the way most people meet nowadays, online. We exchanged pretty lengthy emails, back and forth over the course of 3 weeks. In reality, it felt like I was just talking to a friend. I liked him, but I liked who he was foremost. You can tell a lot about who someone by the way they talk about their family. I’ve learned this the hard way. He however spoke very differently.
I felt as if we both treaded lightly. No one was in a hurry to meet. No one implied there was an expiration date on how long we would write for. We just wrote nightly, about our days, our work, our pets. Easy… It was the kind of stuff I talk to my friends about everyday. Then last week he asked me if I wanted to have dinner. Dinner. Not coffee. Not a cocktail. Not the kind of meeting where it feels like an interview and you size each other up. A meal in a real restaurant, with a tablecloth between us. (Hi, I haven’t been taken out and treated well in a long time. I had no idea men still did this.)
So we met. The rest is a waterfall of good things.
We decided on thai food. I asked him to order for us, which he did and amazing things were brought to our table. We talked long and laughed hard- mouth open, eyes watering. We ate slowly and took our time. He got up when I got up AND also when I returned to our table. We talked even after the plates were cleared and the food boxed-up in those white square food containers that look like little purses.
After dinner, we went over to The Madonna Inn, where they have a huge dance floor. On Saturday nights they have a full orchestra that plays big band music. People- young and old- swing dance. We danced. This lovely gentleman took 4 years of swing dance lessons. And let me just say, he was a great lead. We talked in between small bursts of dancing. We didn’t cha-cha or jitterbug. Just a lot of basic east coast triple-step stuff. It was so damn fun. I was not always graceful, but he didn’t care. And we laughed a lot. And he twirled me and dipped me and made me feel like a girl, a teeny-tiny girl at that. There is something to be said for a man who knows how to hold a woman. It was lovely.
But it was when the band played this song that I think I actually levitated off the floor. And when the song was over, slowly we kissed. The kiss was exactly how a first kiss should be; awkward, a bit clunky, slow and sweet. But he held me like he meant it.
The moon was full outside, and for the first time in years I felt magic.
He trembled a little when we hugged and kissed goodnight. It made me think of that scene in Say Anything. If you’ve seen that movie, you’ll know exactly what part I mean. I drove home smiling.

I saw him the next day. We met for a beach walk/run/trot with his sweet dog, then later we had lunch. It was slightly less magical, but then again daylight has a reality of it’s own. It was good. We laughed and I felt like I could just talk and laugh and be happy in the moment. And I was.
The goodbye kiss was still a bit awkward, but he still held me like he meant it.
He wants to meet for dinner this week.

When you are treated really well for even a moment, you suddenly realize how poorly you have been treated in the past- by others and by yourself. Even if first dates are always good, it still highlights all the dates in between that were not so great. I also started thinking about a relationship I was in and how it was so fun at first… and then it wasn’t. And yesterday I asked myself, “At what point did you think you deserved to be treated badly. At what point did that make sense to you?”
It’s been a very cathartic 48 hours.

I don’t know what I’m doing with this guy. I have no real plans other than to just have fun and enjoy someone who enjoys my company. But I do know he was put in my path for a reason, even if that reason is to just open my heart and let me start believing in magic again. And if I never see him it again, it worked.

I’m so very grateful.


thirteen point one

“Everything you can imagine is real.” Pablo Picasso

It’s pretty amazing when you imagine a day of your life to go a certain way, have a certain feel, and it does- only it’s about a million times better than your highest hopes thought it could possibly be. On September 2nd I ran my first (FIRST!) half marathon, and it was by far the greatest moment in my life (thus far).

It was a long weekend filled with amazing friends, family, support, laughs- nervous laughs, and trying to remain calm without completely freaking out. I’m so lucky to have my good friend, Tana. She ran with me (though not WITH me) and was a tremendous source of support through it all. I pretty much spent all weekend with her until just after the race. It’s great to have a friend who you can look at and just know exactly what the other is thinking. Most of those looks of course translated to OH MY FUCKING GOD, WE ARE DOING THIS!!!. We embraced that look back and forth to each other over 2 days. But you know what, we did it. It happened. Our alarms rang at 3:30 am. We suited up, packed our runner’s belts, made breakfast to-go and left the house by 4am. And when we arrived and walked to our assigned running corrals that was it, there was no going back. Shortly after the National Anthem was sung, the race began. And can I just say how surreal it is to hear the National Anthem sung at a sporting event YOU are participating in? That shit only happens to athletes! And there’s the epiphany! I AM an athlete. And that’s when I started to cry. I usually cry when I hear it sung anyway, but on this day I really cried. I covered my mouth and actually let out a small sob. It’s really overwhelming being in a crowd like that, all lined-up, all waiting, knowing everyone has trained for months just like you. It’s electric and emotional and surreal. And I will never forget that moment.

At about every 1 1/3 miles was a water and sports drink stop, followed by a line a bathrooms. I utilized them.
Every mile marker had entertainment of some kind, high school bands and drill teams and cheerleaders. But at mile 7 my own cheer squad was waiting for me.

Seeing my parents and my sister standing there made my heart ache with happiness. I chose not to stop and hug them because I knew I’d breakdown and cry (even more!) and I just wanted to keep running. My sister screamed, “That’s my sister!” as I ran by. I had forgotten I could still make my family proud of me.

I have to adress my playlist again, because it really helped me get those miles done. There are lots of songs I will hear again, and forever know exactly where I was when they came on. Those songs proved especially important around mile 11. I was tired and a little crampy by then, but how can you even consider stopping when you only have 2-ish miles to go? Those last 2 miles I smiled painfully and hi-fived all kinds of strangers holding out their open palms on the sidelines. Having complete strangers cheer you on and applaud you is almost as thrilling as seeing your own friends do it. And at the tail end of mile 12, just as I was approaching the finish line, I saw my good friends Donn and Allan. They literally materialized out of nowhere. At that point I did practically jump on the fence and hug them both, then I ran to the finish, arms over my head- SMILING! And it was over.

I met-up with Tana and the guys shortly after. We all laughed and hugged and ate cookies that Donn had made us and we all sat in the shade. Looking at those medals around our necks and realizing that THAT just happened was indescribable.
It still feels unreal. I’m so glad I have pictures and a medal to prove I actually did it.

I really feel like I can do anything now. That means it’s time to set new goals. I’ve taken the last few days off to let my body rest a bit and just eat some good food. But I’ll be back on the fitness train soon. I know I want to do another half marathon, but how soon that will be is yet to be determined. For now I’l just bask in my glory for a while.
I did it. I really did it.

*I just can’t refuse it, like the way you do this, keep on rockin’ to it…

A month from today is my half marathon.
When my eyes snapped open this morning, it was the first thing I thought of. And at that moment it was about 8:15, which is precisely (approximately) the time I hope to be crossing the finish line. That gives me 2 1/2 hours to complete 13.1 miles. It’s doable, and it’s just a tiny personal goal I’ve thrown into the mix of all this. My ultimate goal of course is to just finish the damn thing. And I will. I just can’t believe it’s so close to the big day now. Wow. That was a fast 9 months.

I’m so excited and scared, I can barely breathe.
I’ll be starting my run with this song that morning. It’s my go-to when I need to workout/run hard. It’s kind of a prayer for me.

Let the count down begin!

Please don’t stop the music…

now vs. then

I’m having a great morning. I slept really, really well after reading this article. Woke-up feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ran and felt pretty great. My current weight is 201.8. I know the scale shouldn’t matter but I feel pretty amazing right now. I’m so close to being under 200, I can taste it.
I was making myself some breakfast this morning (because I NEVER skip breakfast) and while I was looking in my refrigerator I couldn’t help but notice how things have changed in my kitchen. So here is a list of things I used to eat, and how that has changed during this journey.

278 pounds, when things were bad. At any given moment my kitchen was STOCKED as such:
Some sort of half eaten cake- with the fork always left in the container.
White flour pasta
Alfredo sauce in a jar
Macaroni and cheese boxes
A case of wine
Kettle chips
Several kinds of cheeses
Frozen meals such as, Orange Chicken with fried rice, Lasagna, pot pies, meatloaf, enchiladas.
A trashcan full of fast food containers; Burger King, Mc Donalds, the chinese joint down the street, The mexican place that knows me by the name, Pizza boxes, donut boxes.
Whole milk
Corn Pops cereal
ice cream

When I got started losing weight:
Weight Watcher meals
Lean Cuisine meals
Fruit- mostly bananas and apples
Bag o’salad
Fat Free chocolate pudding
Low Fat milk
Half a case of wine
Pop Chips
Rotisserie Chicken
Veggies for WW Zero Point Soup (I ate A LOT of this)
Water by the case
corn tortillas
Whole grain bread
Low Fat salad dressing

What I eat now:
Hard boiled eggs
Can tuna
chicken- boiled or grilled
Spinach or dark greens- romaine ends or butter lettuce.
red cabbage
Unsweetened, vanilla almond milk
frozen fruit for smoothies (peaches, blueberries, mango)
Whey Protein
Flax (seeds and ground)
Whole wheat pasta
Marinara sauce
Salad dressing with little or no sugar
Sandwich thins, multigrain or wheat
Low Fat Miracle Whip
Olive Oil
Peanut butter
Almonds and cashews
Veggie patties
Greek Yogurt
Bag of shredded cheese
sweet potatoes
Gallons of water
Wine- I buy 1 bottle at a time- not a case or half a case, no matter how good the deal is.

Things have changed dramatically, because I have changed just as such. When I first started doing this, the last list would have seemed like a punishment, but now I think of it as fuel for the week. When I don’t have any of these item on hand, I start feeling panicky. I don’t remember the last time I ate a lean cuisine meal. The idea of that sounds terrible to me now, even though at one time I craved them so.
I still eat chips and donuts sometimes, and from the mexican place that knows my name, but it is so rare I do that, that when I do make those choices I really enjoy the taste and the experience. I eat slowly and close my eyes and still have that joy of eating fun food. Whereas before I just ate without consciousness. I ate without tasting. I swallowed food like I was angry that it was in front of me. I shoveled it in as quickly as it would arrive. I ate because I was bored, it was there, to fill me up emotionally.And that’s a really scary thing.
Other things fill me up now. But it’s taken me a while to get here.

always rest so you can do your best

I did my first long run yesterday. When I say long run, I mean over 6 miles. I’ve been doing 10k runs regularly which are just a hair of the 6 miles miles. So now that I have that down I’m doing bigger runs to see what my body feels like. I have no problem with the endurance at all. I owe that to hours and hours of cycle classes in which sometimes go for over and hour. When I am out running, I sometimes imagine myself on a bicycle in class, because there are moments there where I feel like I can go on forever.
So anyway, on to the yesterday’s run. I woke up, got ready, loaded-up my new fanny-pack-water-holster thing, packed 3 fig newtons (just in case I needed some carbs and sugar) and hit the road jogging. I did 8.7 miles in 1:50 mins. And I think I would have had a much better time if there weren’t any hills involved. I have not been doing any kind of hill training at all because my approaching half marathon is completely flat, but yesterday I picked a route with inclines just to see how they feel.
When it was all over, I felt totally great. Aside from having runner’s poop all was well. And to be clear, I made it home, sat a while then literally had to run to the bathroom where I’m pretty certain I lost 4 pounds in 30 second. Shit really does happen. But I digress.
My issues that followed weren’t apparent immediately. But later in the evening and even early this morning, I started putting things together.
The day before my run, I had worked all day, a nine our shift with just two 15 min breaks. I was under hydrated and under nourished all day. I tried to make up for it when I got home, but I already felt a full blown migraine coming on. Still, I drank a bunch of water that night and ate a good meal. But I had a beer with it. The headache remained so I went to bed early. I woke-up the next morning very early and started pounding the water. I had peanut butter on toast and a banana, and I felt ready. Tired, but ready.
When I was all done and back and showered I was still feeling the runner’s high and aside from sore feet was in a good mood. I rested the remainder of the day drank over a gallon of water and made myself a nice healthy meal of fish and a baked potato for dinner which I could not finish. I went to bed fairly early. I woke up 2 hours later and vomited, not because I had food poisoning but because my body was just not used to the exertion. And I think trying to cram in 48 hours worth of water into 10 hours was just a bit much.
This morning I went to the gym and tried my normal monday circuit. I jogged for 30 mins and then started doing arm and upper body training. I immediately had to stop. While in a plank position, my arms gave-out from beneath me and the room swayed and tilted. My ears rang. I felt like I was going to vomit again. So I just sat on the mat and breathed deeply. I consulted with my my fitness soul sister and we decided I was overworked, underfed and completely depleted. It was at the movement today where I realized just what a delicate balance it all is. You really need to pay attention to what you are putting into your body to make sure you can perform your best, before AND after.
In my head I was on a mission to run that long distance no matter what. But in reality you must prepare and you must recover properly. It’s no joke. Some people do go out and run 9 miles a day, but how long have they been doing that for? And how new is it to me? Yep. I fucked up. I’m just happy to have really learned this lesson now, and not the day of my big run -which I will prepare for meticulously.

On a lighter note, I ran down this major road in my area yesterday. It’s a long stretch of highway and the only direct way into my town. I drive it everyday. I see people on their bikes and running more often than not. There was a time when I would drive by those runners and think how awesome they looked, how that was the ultimate badass run in my area. When you run Los Osos Valley Road you know know you aren’t fucking around. And that was me yesterday, part of that No Fucking Around Crew.

Here is a picture from my last 10k run. I can’t even believe I am this person sometimes. Notice the big smile.

Love and Loss

(First and foremost, before you begin to read, know that I am still full of hope.)

There are moments when I lose all faith in men. I know that sounds awful, but it’s just the truth. I haven’t even really been looking for a partner, or trying to date. But I did put it out there into the universe that I wanted to be noticed, and the universe heard me. But as we all know, the universe has a strange sense of humor.

In the last few months I have had several men float in and out my life rather quickly. Sometimes they left before I even realized they had crept into my sight. None of them had the will or the capacity to really get to know me though. But here are a few examples of what happened.

A boy invites me to a BBQ, does not show up because he decided he needed a Papa Smurf tattoo instead. I’m not kidding.

After several months of flirting with me, The Physician’s Assistant at my office sends sexy text messages to me, approaches me in my massage room and kisses me in a way that says, let’s get naked, then never follows-up or calls or texts me again.

A friend’s friend wants to meet me after seeing several pictures of me. When we finally have a conversation, the first thing he wants to know is how old I am. When I tell him 36 (he is 25), he then precedes to tell me how good I look for my age, but really that was out of his range. *I wasn’t even all that interested…

Met a boy at a bar through a mutual friend, we hit it off. He calls several days later and remembers all kinds of details I told him about myself the night we met. I swoon. Me have a date, a great date, and make plans to meet-up again on the weekend. The events that followed after our meeting went something like this; he saw fat pictures of me on Facebook, deleted his friend request, didn’t return my phone call asking him about the weekend, and I never heard from again.  It may sounds silly, but I cried. A lot. I also got really drunk and cried the next day too. Pathetic much?

So much for chivalry.

I realize eventually I’ll need to get back on that horse and ride. One day I will. I just had some very hard realizations through this all. Losing weight hasn’t made my life easier or better in every capacity. That’s not to say I have the burning desire to be fat again, because believe me, I do not. But I think there was this part of me that thought when I was at a certain weight/size men would see me differently and react. Well, that has happened, but love isn’t exactly knocking down my door. Just because I’ve lost nearly 80 pounds, I am not bullet proof when it comes to the disappointment of rejection. I had forgotten what that felt like. Losing weight doesn’t make your heart an less sensitive. I also think maybe I’m just not ready for all this yet. I needed validation that I was attractive and I got it. I need to embrace that, so I don’t want to dwell on this for too long. Honestly, I just don’t have time. And secondly, I don’t want to be that “I just need a good man” type. I know there is more to life and with that I acknowledge just how much better a lot of things have gotten since the drop in weight.

Here is my good list:

-I’m smaller. I’m in a size 14 now. A true size 14. No 16’s can stay on my hips. It’s funny. Shopping is suddenly so easy.

-I’m faster. I recently ran my second 10k of the summer. I took a 10 whole minutes off my time between the first and the last run.

-I’m happier. Exercise does wonders of your psyche.

-I have more energy. In fact, I took some photos for a good friend of mine this week, and it was an all day thing. I was up and down ladders, crawling on the ground, running through sand- and I wasn’t breathless once. I didn’t even break a sweat.

-People tell me how good I look- VERY often.

When I start making lists of good things that are happening, I understand just how much I need to focus on the very important things right now. Meeting a man shouldn’t really be a priority. I have a half marathon to run in 6 weeks. I start another semester of school in 4 weeks. I’m 3 pounds away from breaking the 200 mark. I’ll be moving at the end of the year and have many things to tie-up. THOSE are the things that really matter right now. That’s where my focus needs to be.


This is my new favorite running song. It’s pretty fitting right now.
I am Titanium

The other kind of Independence Day

Suddenly, it’s July.

Back in June I had posted that Coco and I were going to not only do double workouts, but try and drop 10 pounds as well in the 30 days June had to offer. So, this is what happened:

I worked out A LOT. I did double workouts 4x a week, and 2 regular-day workouts as well. I ate better and actually ate more. I quickly discovered that the more you workout the more you actually have to eat. Hmm… So that’s why I was feeling so shitty for all those months! (DING! DING! DING!) I ran my ass off, I doubled up training sessions and by the last week of June, I hit a wall. I was tired, sore and slightly unmotivated. I ended up going to LA for a long weekend and though I brought my running clothes, I chose to eat well (as in NOT well), visit people I love, and rest. It did wonders for me. And when I went for a run on Monday morning I felt a sense of renewal and was astounded by my increased energy. There is something to be said for “rest days”. And I really hate it when my trainer is right! But yea, it went well. And even though I had two days of eating totally shitty (I actually drank a 32 oz vanilla shake one night) I didn’t gain my seventy-something pounds back. I didn’t gain any weight at all in fact, which makes me realize just how fast my metabolism is burning. Amazing. I’ll get back to this thought in a minute. As for total weight loss for the month of June… THREE POUNDS lost. Just 3. Not 10. And I can live with that, because it was a hard three pounds to lose. And if that meant I got to have a vanilla shake before dinner one night, then it was totally worth it. Also, I can now run 5 miles in just about 1 hour. That’s pretty fast, mutha fuckas! Yay, me! I’m going to take every victory I can right now, because that’s what keeps me going. So that was June.

New goals for July:

Break 200. I’ve been saying this and wanting this since April. 200 is my arch nemesis. Seriously, I have not been under 200 for years. And the last time I was, it literally lasted like 12 hours, then I lost my shit over something ridiculous and started to gain weight again. Yea. Awesome.
In order to break the 200 mark I have to give up alcohol. I already started. It’s been 6 days so far and I have already lost 1 pound, so I can already tell my body likes what it’s feeling. I drink a lot. And by a lot I don’t mean a lot everyday, I just mean everyday. I always have wine at my house. I always have wine with dinner or after dinner. It was how I was unwinding. It was my “reward” for all my hard workouts. But all that has proven to stop the progress I am making. So, alcohol has got to go.
It’s kind of a busy month full of get-togethers, so I’ll allow myself a glass or two per occasion, but I can already tell I may change my mind. For instance, last night I went to a baseball game, complete with fireworks and lawn seats. I actually drank water. WATER- not icy beer with a hot dog on the side. I brought an apple and a banana to eat too. Yep, I sure am fun these days. It’s going to be totally worth it in the end, so I’m doing it.
My last goal for July is to take the fear out of eating. As I mentioned before, I was surprised that I didn’t gain all my weight back after a weekend of bad eating. I was surprised. Because in my mind eating bad is what got me into this mess and if I waiver from my good eating habits for just one moment it’s all coming back. Well, that is just ridiculous. I can eat the occasional cheeseburger and I won’t gain 10 pounds overnight. I CAN. Because I didn’t gain all that weight in one night in the first place. I gained it over a long period of time of not loving myself or believing in who I was or could be. That’s how I got there. I got there from eating out from a drive-thru 15x a week. I didn’t gain it from eating at Chili’s and having a margarita with my girlfriend. And I really want to be that carefree from time to time. I don’t want to stress when there is a special occasion, or if I have horrible PMS and need a whole bag  a giant handful of Kettle Chips. It’s OK to have those things sometimes. I should be able to do it without feeling horrible about myself. It’s not everyday I do that, but it is everyday that I eat really fucking well. So I need to calm the fuck down and enjoy those moments when they occur. I’m going to try to anyway.

Losing weight has become a continuous mind fuck. You are constantly trying to talk yourself into working out, eating well, getting faster, getting stronger. You flex your muscles everyday and try to look beyond the loose skin and saggy boobs. You tell yourself the scale doesn’t matter because the clothes are loose. That is a hard thing to do- even though the outcome is still awesome. These are all great things, but they are exhausting. It’s a full time job. When people tell you that you are obsessed, you want to scream at them THAT’S HOW SHIT GETS DONE! Because it is how shit gets done. You have to flex and workout your mind just as you do your body, so that you’re both on the same page. That’s how it works. It’s hard. And if you’ve ever had to lose a large amount of weight, it’s even harder.

But I’m feeling less crazy these days, and that is something. And like I said before, I’ll take every victory I can right now.

*If I only could, I’d be running up that hill

I’ve been thinking a lot about my half marathon in September. It feels unreal to me, yet the anxiety is building. Along with my weekly trainer sessions I’ve been trying to get my endurance up on the treadmill. I’m not really worried with how fast I’m going just yet, I’m more concerned about being able to keep a good pace. As of right now a good pace for me is somewhere between 5.0-5.5 mph, that’s about an 11 1/2 minute mile. That’s about where I’m comfortable for the time being. I can pretty much of for a long while at that pace, and that is my goal. I’ve been doing some sprints (6.0 or higher) too, just to see what it feels like. Also, all the assholes athletic-types at the gym run easily at a rate I call “sprinting”, and well, I really want to be like them. Eventually. I want to be a gazelle taking long fluid strides and just take off. As of now I can do that for about 90 seconds, then I do the whole sucking-wind-like-an-astmatic-6th-grader. By the way, I went to school with some kid who constantly had asthma attacks after recess and constantly barfed in class, usually right behind of next to me. I swear to you, I did not eat spaghetti from the time I was 11 to sometime in my early 20’s. But, I digress… Oh yea. Running. So I’d like to be a gazelle and stuff. It’s happening, kind of. I still hate the first 15 minutes of any run I start. I kept telling myself that will change, but everything I have read so far, blogs and articles and all says differently. Le sigh.

Tomorrow I’m going to try my first attempt at an early morning jog. I’ve set my alarm for 5:30 am and I’ve laid out my clothes and all. Oh, boy… Should be fun, right? I need to start doing this to see what long periods of concrete feel like under my feet, and to see what my body feels like that early in the morning. I need to get used to it. That half marathon is at 5:45 am. Seriously. I must be insane. Um, why am I doing this again?

Here’s some hardcore truth: When I run, almost always at some point I want to cry. Not because it’s hard, but because life is hard. Or, one might say that I’ve made my life really hard. I run because I’m really frustrated with how I let myself go again. I run when I miss my family and they feel far away. I run when I think of all the shitty things my ex did to me, said to me… I run when I feel overwhelmed, or don’t want to face how I’m feeling at all. I run because it burns major calories and melts fat but, I run towards the physical pain because the emotional pain of the last few years is too much to take at times. So I run, thinking I am running away from it. I sometimes imagine (not just zombies chasing me) but every heartache I’ve ever had growing smaller and smaller in the distance. I visualize a life I want on the horizon. It may seem corny, but it’s true. I keep thinking that if I run harder all the bad things will fall away from mind, my heart and leak out of my pores. And most times it feels exactly as if those very things are happening. I hear runners do this kind of thing a lot. It’s nice to know I’m not alone. I’m hoping that somewhere in the process the more I run, the more my mind will free itself of the doubt/fear/anger/pain I carry with me. And that’s where the real weight will be lost.

Be running up that road

Be running up that hill

Be running up that building

Say, if I only could…

~Kate Bush


I’m sore as a mother fucker today. And today is Tuesday which means double my pleasure at the gym. I did a cycle class at 8:20 this morning, and I’ll be at the evening class at 5:30. The scale is already down one full pound, so, I know the double workouts several times a week are already working. I’ve been trying to perfect my side-plank and in just a this last week I’ve gotten really good at it. My trainer likes to integrate going from front to side to front to side to front to side, pretty much until I say mercy.

I never smile when I do them, by the way. But I do feel like kind of a badass when I do them correctly. It’s happening more often.

On a different note, I’m waiting to be called-in to work today, so that basically means it’s a sit-and-do-emails while I wait for the phone to ring, because I can’t really do much else in case the call comes that I need to be at my spa job in 60 minutes. The weekdays are slow for now, but the weekends are always hopping. Thank God I have my other job at the chiropractor. That seems to be busy-ish for the meantime. And while I’m on the subject of work, can I just say that I am sick to death of people who get a massage and act like THEY are doing ME a damn favor by just showing up? I mean, what the fuck, people?? It’s a massage, not a root canal. How about a little happiness, a little gratitude when you walk in. This happens especially for all my chiro patients who are being treated for an injury (that their damn insurance pays for). BOO-FUCKING-HOO, the worst part of your day is getting a 1 hour massage as a part of your treatment plan? Give me a damn break. Oh, and people don’t seem to think they need to tip you OR say thank you these days. Which is bullshit. It’s a service. Tip your therapists! Let me tell you something, people are worried about this next and upcoming generation? Well it’s everyone who is older than me who are the assholes in my clinic. I’m just saying…  And back to the zen pace. Namaste, assholes.

Totally homesick for my family lately. I was happily called via FaceTime on Sunday and got to see my cute niece and nephew. I love those kids so much. I almost cried when I saw them, but I didn’t want to freak them out. Also, I love when kids talk at you on the phone, you know, like your deaf? HI, AUNTIE P! WE ARE GOING ON A WALK TO THE BRIDGE! WE CAN’T TALK NOW! WHERE ARE YOU?! OK BYE! Mind you, at this point, I’ve only said, hello. They crack me up. I look at them, and I see nothing but love and happiness and joy, because that’s all they’ve ever really know. I may be bias when I say that my sister and brother-in-law are amazing parents. I see those kids and my ovaries ache.

That’s an actual hug. He isn’t trying to kill her…in this photo.

One of best friends is literally riding through town today. He, along with thousands of other riders are making a trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles for AIDS awareness and to fund research. Donn has raised $5,000 for the cause. See? Told you he is bitchen. I’m meeting up with him and his partner later tonight. And tomorrow, I’m driving just a bit south to meet him at his campsite. I promised him I’d bring donuts. I may even eat one, myself- after tonight and tomorrows workouts and weigh-in, of course! My area has this ridiculous donut place. I think that by riding a bike 250 miles (Roughly- and only halfway to LA!), he may deserve a donut or 6. Donn is one of my best friends in the entire world. He has an amazing story to tell. Maybe one day he’ll start blogging again. I can’t wait to hug that guy.

He made me that scarf. He knits. He’s generous with his time and heart. He loves donuts. I love the fuck the outta him.

I have a weigh-in tomorrow. I really hate going to those WeightWatchers meetings and I feel like I can never just weigh-in and leave. I always get suckered guilted into staying. I used to really love my meetings, but now I just feel like it’s AA for overeaters. People at this particular location tell a lot of “war” stories. I’m over it. I don’t think we need to discuss all the fish and chips you ate over the weekend. Also, sometimes I feel like an asshole there. I tend to be fraud at times. Like, when I get an award and they ask how I did it. What I really want to say (because it’s the damn truth) is:

Well, I workout like crazy and always imagine I am running from Zombies or Careers when I’m on the treadmill. I pay a trainer to work me out twice a week, to the point of gagging. Also, I do a colon cleanse in my protein shake twice a week to flush the shit and bread out of my intestines. Also, I rarely eat all my points. Sometimes I just have wine for dinner and a FiberOne brownie. Or, if I’m still hungry I just smoke a lot of pot until I fall asleep. Oh, and the weeks where I decide to go and weigh-in, I workout THEN steam for 20 mins to lose any extra water weight. Yep. That’s right, mutha fuckas! Losing weight and gaining rewards, bitches!

Instead, I say:

I just workout and stick to my points. And I eat bananas for snacks.

This answer makes everyone happy. Because honestly, those people never want to know the truth. And I don’t liked to be judged.

Almost Normal

June 1, 2012

It’s funny how the start of a month is all it can take to revamp you. Not that I wasn’t entirely motivated earlier, but now with a new month comes some new goals. I have two big ones this month:

1. Must workout 6 days a week (already practically doing that), and 4 of those days must have two workouts. So that means, one in the morning and one in the evening.

2. Lose 10 pounds this month. That’s 30 days, starting right now.

(My lovely friend, Coco, is doing #1 with me. Coco is Nicole, as mentioned in my last post. But Coco is her new badass, skinny bitch, take-no-shit name. I will now refer to her only as Coco.)

I’m off to a great start already. I had a vigorous training session with Adam, and before that I jogged for 20 minutes. Tonight, I’m going hiking immediately following work. I have to take advantage of these long daylight hours. Also, it’s a local trail I do very often, so it’s totally safe.

So while training today, Adam suggested we do a body composition measurement. This measures how much fat makes up your body as a whole. It’s only slightly humiliating.  Adam sees me twice a week, no make-up, sweating like a damn pig and sometimes gagging- so for me, him pinching my fat and measuring it is almost OK. That’s what you do when you measure your body comp- PINCH AND MEASURE YOUR FLAB.

He takes a reading from this pinchy-gun-like thing. Your back/bra/boob fat, your arms (both sides) and your waist (in front, where it’s all cottage cheesy) all get pinched and then that data is calculated by your height and age. I’m at 33-34%. Sounds kinda bad I thought, only Adam told me that 30% and below are what’s considered “normal”. Are you fucking kidding me? I’m almost within normal limits. That is insane, or as all the kids are saying these days, THAT SHIT CRAY.

Normal. what does that even mean, anymore? You see, I have been heavy my whole damn life. There were very few moments in my life when I was able to shop at a regular store in regular sizes. I was skinny for a while a few years ago, but before then I’ve was heavy and pretty much obese for as long as I can remember. Obese. Normal.

It’s weird to try that word on. I don’t feel like it belongs to me just yet. But it will soon enough… That’s the goal Adam has for me this month, to get me out of the 30’s and into the 20-29% body fat range.

When we talked about this today, I kid you not, I was all teary. That happens a lot to me now. So it may get redundant when you read these posts, but just bare with me- I cry a lot.  He also told me that the other trainers spy on me and always tell him that I kick my own ass when he isn’t around. He told me he was proud of me. A trainer, proud of me. 

Who am I now? Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself.