I Guess I'm Sturdy

Catching up on sleep seems to be hard to do. No matter what I do, even going to bed at 9:30 pm doesn't seem to alleviate my tiredness when I wake up.

My head and back ache with a consistent fury I have not known before - even from the world's toughest workouts or classes I've taken. I don't think I've fully accepted or marinated in the fact long enough that the crash I was in was pretty bad. I mean, the car is totaled. I had three air bags deployed in my general direction and folks ran out of their homes because the crash was so loud.

The fact I walked away I attribute to my fine, sturdy stock. There was no broken glass, only the crumpled front end of our brand new car. Stay-Puft (as we lovingly called our Ford C-Max Energi) sacrificed his life for me. His little head light dangling out like a loose eyeball, the entire front bumper hanging off like a sad lower lip and the entire crushed driver's side making him looking an angry, snarled beast on the street.

I just remember the horn honking...non stop. Once I was hit and stopped, turned the car off etc, the horn just kept going. It was just a constant reminder that the car was saying "I'm hurt"..."over here"...constantly. I know the neighbors hated it, but tough shit. Some folks managed to get it to stop but it was without my permission, so that sort of pissed me off. I was shaking so bad I could barely take photos, let alone make sense to talk to anyone. I was so hyped up on adrenaline that who knows--even to this day-- what sort of injury may emerge. I won't go into details other to say it was 100% NOT my fault and I really didn't enjoy sitting on a curb by myself for over an hour while waiting for a tow, the police or anybody to help me out. I guess since I wasn't bleeding in the street, my accident was not a priority. The other car (a big ass truck) managed to drive off. Thanks for buying us a new car, dick. We didn't need one because we had one, but hey, we get to look forward to new car smell all over again...

When I had seen people after the accident, they kind of just approached me with a gentle apprehension, like if they hugged me I may crumble. Um, hello -- if this body didn't crumble from a 40+ mph collision, a hug won't hurt. My brother coughs it up to my heft Russian stock. He's been known to put his head through windshields, fall off bikes and punch walls with no bodily consequences.

I knew it was a doozy when my doctor who has the "oh, just put some ice on it and use ibuprofen" mentality, actually gave me some pain killers and referred me to a physical therapy CLASS, which is lame. You don't even know what has occurred or what state my spine is in, but sure, go to a CLASS where someone is going to manipulate my body or teach me self care for post-crash recovery for an undiagnosed soft-tissue trauma. Again, I swear my medical providers run things backwards over there at Kaiser. Thankfully, I have an appt. with a specialist on Friday, after which I will be seeing an attorney. Good times.

Until then, obviously no working out. Yet another gloriously painful wrench thrown into my fitness wheel. I joked that at least I had fewer innards to injure now. The important thing is to take care of my body and listen to it. All the creaks, pains, aches and tightness are telling me to basically nap. All day. Too bad I have a life and a job that won't allow that. I'm running the emotional gamut here, and I've come to hate that street one block over from home. It's the same street I got mugged on, so hey - at least I keep things consistent. Too bad there is no avoiding the street since it's a major thoroughfare - for foot, bike or car traffic.

Thank god for the kindness of strangers who made sure I was ok that day and the neighbor I called who didn't hesitate to help me out. Of course all I could think of immediately was "Boy, is superintendent's gonna be pissed!", and damn, I had eggs in the backseat. (Only 1 broke!)

Taking up Space

Another day, another dollar spent. I haven't been flexing my writing muscles at all, but will work on that. I've been too busy eating food and lifting weights and hibernating. I decided to not focus on whining and writing or guilt myself for not updating the blog. In time, things will become and feel normal again, but for now, not much to report. A friend told me a pseudo fitness/weight loss blog is boring anyway. Personally, I love those stories, but I figured who wants to hear about my daily struggles with what to eat for lunch or how sore my hammies are?

I'm working away in corporate America. The soul sucking 8-5 job and routine of work, gym, eat, sleep has been the norm for a few months. Things are going well, there may be some office role restructuring but I seem to fit in just fine and no one has kicked me out. I can't wear the big girl pants yet since waistbands STILL hurt and I'm only known to shop the clearance racks at Anne Taylor Loft, Lands End or Banana Republic. I wear my cheap dresses from Marshall's and try not to get "too casual". I'm still the girl in the office with a hoodie though. However, I must make a proactive choice in NOT spending less than $20 on shoes anymore. I had a fashion faux pas when the entire sole of a cheap pair of espadrilles fell off one day at work. I may be poor, but I can't look it. I was walking around with what looked like a giant rubber tongue flapping off my heel down the carpeted hallways. Horrified - if not for the imagery but the flopping sound it made.

I'm in month two of meeting with my trainer and speaking of poor, I think I have to curtail my frequency of seeing her. My introductory/coupon offers/freebies are up and the amount for regular, real sessions is not justifiable. I make much less than the majority of folks who attend my gym and let's be honest, I am only a member bc my job subsidizes 90% of the cost. I mean, the mayor and his WIFE work out with me. I don't even own a pair of Lululemon pants. Not a single item from them!

My trainer could probably sense my gentle pulling away because she worked me out harder than ever before, probably in our entire time of training since April. To say I got the pukey feeling or saw stars is an understatement. At least I know I can do real push ups now! NOT on my knees - a feat I couldn't even do before surgery.

I think I can sustain seeing her for 1-2 x a month, but weekly is out of the question. A good ass kicking every so often and a check in to see where my strength and endurance levels are at is very helpful to me though. Her body weight strength training exercises and manner of pushing me aids in my end goal. I also love the fact that she sees me at the gym every day even when I am not meeting with her. She knows I am trying and committed. She's kind enough to razz me when I'm lifting weights or helps me adjust my form when I squat or lift the wrong way. This also means I can't hide from her if I decide to give up the costly personal ass kicking attention as well :-/ I'm trapped!

I've been teaching myself and learning more so on my own though, in terms of beginning weight lifting. I've come to the conclusion that massive amounts of cardio do nothing for me (nor should it) and I can't run anyway. If it's not my innards being jostled, a burning sensation behind my belly button, an ache in my side or now pain in my right foot, running just finds a way to cripple me for days at a time. I never loved it to begin with and while yes, it helped me lose a majority of my weight last year, it just won't work this time around. I'll still jog here and there and do a few 5ks when I'm up to it, but my new love is weights. I incorporate about 40 minutes of strength training into my routine and do cardio for about 20-30 minutes 3-4 times a week, interval training. I kick it up when I need to, but it's not my focus. Body re composition is. I mean, my insides were torn up and taken out, I can't just continue on the same path with the same goals and same actions. I am not the same.

I get excited to see what I can lift when I get to the gym now. I am the girl showing nipple in the "men's section" aka the free weight section of the gym. I take up space. I don't touch the 3 or 5 lb weights. Give me the 10, 12, 15 pounders and bars. Goddamn these truck driver arms, but I'm going to tone them. The Spartan has been taking monthly shots of my progress and while it is slow as molasses, I see some definition beginning. My shoulders scare him. Hell, they scare me, but they will be the beasts that save someone or myself one day.

I have not come to embrace myself yet (that is a long way off) but I am no longer restricting myself either. I'm not going to fool myself into thinking one particular, exact way of eating will save me. I am going to eat what I want, when I want it and fuel myself. I've been eating a hell of a lot cleaner these past few months, taking supplements, vitamins, getting rid of my frozen meals or processed deli meats and replacing them with vegan protein powders, powdered peanut butter even! Don't get me started on how I want to make sweet love to Chocolate PB2.

I figure if I stay consistent and treat myself right, I'll lean out eventually. It's going to take months and months and I know my dream of being "beautiful by my birthday" will forever let me down, but maybe by Christmas all those old pants will fit again.

I may try to work on a new writing project as well, offline for a bit. After being in LA a few weeks ago, my dear friend suggested that perhaps that's part of my problem these days. I just don't write. I don't have a plan. I have no grand scheme laid out for my job, career, love life or life in general. I honestly don't know WHAT I want to do or what I CAN do...I gotta start somewhere. Time to revisit those grad schools and holistic nutrition courses I fell in love with when I was jobless. That dream is alive and I'm sure if I can work hard enough I can achieve what I want. The idea of more loans makes me gag, but so does making crap money at a job I don't really even like. I'd rather be barely breaking even doing something I enjoy, right? Right. Wise words from my friend. Sometimes I need a little more ass kicking than usual.

This month Brimley will go to an A's game with us for their annual Dog Day. I am obnoxiously giddy over prancing my pooch around a field. I'm off to LA again in July for a wedding, my birthday and who knows what else.  Fall is rapidly approaching with two more weddings on the list and a possible trip to Boston in September. I doubt this year will be the year I get to Alaska to see the bears or Cabo to drink my sorrows away and gain a tan, but we're not even a full 6 months in to 2013 yet, anything is possible. I'm just taking up space right now.

A year later...

I couldn't even stick to a weekly blog for the 2nd week, ha! A few days late, but at least I'm getting a post in.

I was pretty emotional last week. What with a bad hair cut (I was NOT ready to go super short again) an initial "fitness evaluation" and the year anniversary of Lupe's Eviction, I cried several times and was all over the map.

It's not hard to believe a year has gone by already - I feel like the process has been long and not a day goes by that I don't feel some sort of angst, regret, disatisfaction or confusion with my body from the damn surgery. I'm making it a point not to dwell on things, but the effects seem to be lingering. Now that I have passed this benchmark, I hope I can really start making progress and put this all behind me.

I signed up for an evaluation at my gym and thankfully met with a woman who could understand where I was coming from. First thing she asked me was if I was committed. "Hell yes!" I said. She asked what I ate for breakfast or during the day and was impressed. She asked what I LIKED to do in terms of exercise. I told her what I USED to do, since right now I don't like anything because of the way it makes me feel.

I told her I used to run, but it makes me hurt now. I used to take boxing classes, but the ab work is something I still can't do. I used to love body pump but haven't been able to sustain myself through a full class yet. I used to do Bikram, but budget and time constraints have me slacking off on that. I told her I needed something new, since my body catches on real quick to repeated spins on the elliptical and doesn't really change much. I told her about my thyroid and how it's normal. I told her I kept my ovaries so according to my doctor I can't blame hormones. I told her I live with a vegetarian so red meat or carbs don't come into the home a lot. she said she likes a challenge. "Well, that's me!" I exclaimed.

I went through the embarrassing physical challenges. My wall sit time was 60 seconds, which is pretty good, but I should aim for 2-3 minutes. My sit ups were laughable. Mind you, I have not even attempted a sit up in over a year. I could barely do 15 in a MINUTE. My knee push ups and bicep strength were in the excellent range. I knew that, since I have steadily been lifting since the summer to not get flabby. I want definition though, and sexy delts.

One scary find was that my blood pressure was way too high. It could have been because I was worked up, freaking out about my number on the scale (I basically have 30 POUNDS or more to lose to be "fit") and my current status. High BP runs in my family and my father has been on medication for years. I get most of my ailments from that side, so I need to monitor it. My resting heart rate was great, so that made the trainer believe the BP number was truer than not. Le sigh.

I walked out of their last Thursday feeling a little defeated, a little optimistic. It's a new beginning, a new journey and process. I made plans to spend the day with Sma on Saturday (the anniversary) and shopped, ate and drank and pampered myself. I got home later that night and cried. I wasn't sure why, I just did. I think deep down inside my body just needed to. I treated myself to a massage on Sunday (easy work out in the am) but took Monday and Tuesday off. I needed it. I worked out 5 days last week and my arms and legs felt it. I also drank too much wine though, so for as many times as I say it, I must start cutting calories with the booze first.


I'm going to see the trainer again this Thursday and we're going to work out. God help me. I made it to the gym this morning too for 30 min on the elliptical and 10 on the recumbent bike. I may do some weights at home tonight, but it's supposed to be 80 degrees when I get out of work. We'll see about that!

Another Post-Op Process

I think starting for April, I will make it a point to at least write a blog post on Fridays. I've started to make an effort to track my workouts and eating again, so why not flex the writing muscle too.

A lot is milling about in my brain. I'm approaching the year anniversary of the Eviction of Lupe. Crazy. Only now do I feel like I'm starting to actually get back on track, physically. It is a long process and it's been a long year. No one really tells you -if you are a woman undergoing a hysterectomy - that recovery just doesn't stop at 6 weeks. It's been a mental and physical journey and not one I anticipate finishing for a while. I have a phone call scheduled next week to talk to my surgeon about some embarrassing effects I've noticed physically too that are new to my body post-op.

I won't go into details here, but let's just say, my innards are not feeling 100% just yet. Working out still tends to hurt me in some way or another and well, the weight keeps adding up. I'm tired of my doctor telling me to join a weight loss class or my gyno saying "lay off the fiber". Something is different and I'm determined to find out what is holding my metabolism up or what made my body reject fiber and dairy when it feels like it. Or why I've gained 25 pounds in less than 6 months. Nothing seems to be consistent except my struggle. I've also searched far and wide for a dietician or some sort of nutritional consultant that isn't bogus, certified in some way, experienced in my sort of situation and close to me. I've come up empty but I will continue to look. Another out of pocket cost that I want to be sure I invest properly in.

I worked out 4 days this week so far, and intend on hitting the gym for a swim and ab work tomorrow. I had a bout of either 1) an epically delayed and extended hangover or 2) a stomach bug/food poisoning Sunday afternoon. I missed work on Monday and completely spaced on my personal training appointment. I was in bed all day after hurling most of my Sunday away. The kicker? I gained 4.4 pounds this week. *long excruciating sigh*

I took my measurements last night as well. I really am at the beginning again. I know everyone has to start or do-over again, but this irks me. I was fine and on the path to wellness this summer. Then fall hit, and it was like my body went into reverse. My inches are the same as they were in May 2011 when I started my journey. I had the notes on my phone still to go back to. A hefty 6 inches have grown around my waist again. !!! I have another long way to go, slower this time. The same 25 pounds haunt me. I'm not even aiming for celebrity thin - just to fit into the pants I bought right before this damn surgery.

I think back to  Richard Simmons and meeting him last year in February. He's on General Hospital this week and I can't wait to watch - as I've recorded it so I can relish in the glory of it all. His words still haunt me when we met though: "You need to write", he told me as he held my face in his hands. It was surreal.

 I feel as if I'm too angry to write, if that makes sense. I keep living in this perpetual state of "I remember"...and it makes me sad.

I remember when I used to write.
I remember when it used to be fun to run.
I remember when my pants fit.
I remember when I could blast through a weights class and feel great.
I remember the high of a 5+ mile run.
I remember looking in the mirror and liking what I see -- briefly.
I remember taking a break from picking myself apart.
I remember picking myself up.
I remember enjoying waking up.
I remember being kinder to my boyfriend.
I remember being more social.
I remember...too much.

I think this is what is blocking me from writing. I remember being optimistic - and that voice felt better to express myself in. The one inside me now? I don't even like listening to. Here's to another process I guess.

Listening to Your Body

Wow, it's really been a month since I wrote, huh?
Just goes to show my life has been barely on my own radar, never mind the radar of public knowledge.
Where does the time go...

February was a blur. It was dealing with a sick boyfriend (damn flu, that I have avoided!), worrying about my 90 day review at work, trying to not blow out my calf again due to running and traveling to LA for Oscar weekend with Portland right after. God, what a much needed but oh too fast break from reality.

I love my old roomie's new apartment in Burbank and am glad she finally left the Lido to move on to greener, more valley like pastures. It was a whirlwind weekend with lots of wine, singing telegrams, bridesmaid dress shopping and the Oscars. A killer allergy attack and a shorter trip than usual due to my new job (blech), meant that I was an exhausted wreck when I got home. No rest for the weary though, bc the following weekend a trip to Portland, OR was planned to meet with old friends for an "Asshole Reunion". I'm proud of that title, because if there's anything I'm not apologetic for, it's being an asshole sometimes. You just gotta do it. It keeps you sane. Define it how you will, but for me it involves loud noises while eating, drinking too much (in daylight hours) talking shit and wearing absurd socks and wreaking havoc in vintage shops. It was the perfect trip.

Since then, it's been a blur. Trying on bridesmaid dresses was a rude awakening to the state of my body. I've been saying that since September things have been awry, and well, they have gone farther. I don't even recognize myself. I also feel like I'm in an "ugly phase". I HATE the way I look. I'm growing out my hair (asymmetrical hair cuts, the horror!) and it's HARD. I have terrible soccer mom/newscaster hair and I'm 20+ pounds overweight. My work wardrobe sucks and I'm always opting for comfort vs. style. I suck at business casual. I basically suck at being me for the time being.

The Oakland half marathon is this weekend. A year ago, I ran that. Sigh. This weekend, I'll have a guest in town and I won't be able to work out, and well, this week's workouts have been less than stellar, but I'm doing them. I'm waking up at 5:15am a few times a week to work out and it sucks. It sucks big hairy dog balls and it's my only choice. After work I am so exhausted, the motivation is low, new gym membership or not. I'm thankful the Spartan joined a gym near me and my work, since I'd never make it there on my own. It doesn't make it any easier though. I hate it, I'm bitchier than the bitchiest bitch in LA before an interview on E! and I'm not pleasant to be around. Maybe one day I'll look forward to it.

I also joined Weight Watchers online again. We'll see how this works out...again. The new points plus program is going to take some getting used to. I already fucked up week one, and it's going to take some adjustment to acknowledge I eat too much or drink too much or don't work out enough. Ugh. I think it will help me in the long run. My thyroid is normal, I'm not on any meds, my ovaries seem to be functioning and well, I may never change, but I can try. I'm getting too old to not make adjustments. I've been listening to my body though, taking things one day at a time. I am pulling in the reigns on workouts and not pushing too hard. I've been alternating workouts, running and weights. I wish I could be where I was, but I'm learning to be happy with what I can do. It's a process. A long process. I'm also meeting with a trainer on Monday next week, so maybe I'll get some guidance and new routines set up.

My cousin is getting married in September in Boston and I want to go. With their wedding in Sept and one in October for a dear friend in Seattle, I want to get my ass in gear the next 6 months and look my best. Some of these family members or college friends I haven't seen in over a decade. I want to feel proud. I'm not married, I'm not a mom, I won't have kids, an uber demanding job or have some debilitating circumstance/distractions that would make me less than awesome or get in the way of my goals. I only have myself to fight or struggle against. While it may be a lot, it's not the worst thing to deal with. At least on most days. Le sigh. I don't have many positive things to say, so I'd rather not say them at all.

Spring Ahead

Hard to believe it'll almost be time to turn the clocks ahead in a few weeks. While I'll be thankful for the longer hours of sunshine, I still wish I could turn back the clock.

I'm still not feeling that great. Still not running, not working out a lot or at full capacity and well, it's pretty discouraging. I am headed to LA this weekend and while I have a weekend of hysterics planned, good meals to eat and great friends to see, I am getting hives just thinking about trying on clothes. I've been here before and it sucks. I am going to try my best and not have an anxiety attack in the dressing room of bridal shops and remember that my goal is to be 20 pounds lighter in October when the wedding party I am in gets the show on the road.

I am glad I never threw away or got rid of my "fat" work pants from 2011. I am wearing them again. I still own the smaller pair I bought this past summer--THREE sizes smaller. Thankfully the fat pair is still a bit baggy, but the fact that is what my abdomen can tolerate now makes me cringe. I just wish I knew what happened to my body this past fall (besides unemployment blues) that allowed my frame to pack on such girth again.

At least I am eligible for benefits now at work and this week I will finally sign up for the gym across the street. I see March as the month I start all over again. It was the month last year I really, truly kicked ass. I felt like it was a race against time. I had the luxury of a job that was going away and 90 minute lunches and weights classes and was training for a half marathon. I shudder to think if I did NOT lose 18 pounds before surgery what I would look like NOW. Ugh...

When I had my surgery, I really thought I'd be up and running (no pun--well sort of-- intended) within 6-8 months. I think what the forums and other hystersisters say is true though, it really does take a full year of recovery. One.Whole.Year. Goddamn it goes by so fast and yet so slow at the same time. Both internal and external tolls have been taken on my body and even though I have tried, I have not been very nice to myself. No matter how times I am told otherwise, all I can think is I am weak. I have no self control when it comes to snacking. It is my fault that I slid down the slippery slope of tight pants and a bad attitude again. Let's have some pizza rolls and be in bed by 9pm.

I probably pushed too hard in July when I started jogging. I probably should have not attended weights classes in August. I probably should have not been running even though I felt tightness in my calf or a burning behind my belly button a few weeks ago. I felt that doing nothing would be worse.

I'm not the type of person that can just diet and lose weight. "Oh, just eat less" doesn't cut it. I come home from work starving. I get mean. I get worse than hangry. I get anxious and I get nauseous if I don't eat. I need to exercise. I love food too much! If I just let myself "Be", I just let myself go. I wish I could get a food lobotomy.

Swimming classes helped me find something new but I have not been back in the pool since the end of January. I'm still laying off my leg but managed to do an easy jog/up hill walk on the treadmill on Saturday at the gym. I burned about 500 calories in 50 minutes, so I can't complain. Hitting the gym once a week just ain't gonna cut it though. I think once the convenience of hitting the gym for 30 minutes at lunch is an option, I'll get that drive back. I'll find classes I like at this new gym and not worry about rushing to catch a bus at a shady spot, or wait in the dark with all my belongings like open prey.

I'm emotional. This period of my life is like trying to find the right way to be again. I did it once, I can do it again, right? While sometimes I have to drag myself to the gym, once I get on a machine or treadmill I enjoy it. I crank up my music, I sweat and I really feel my body getting into the groove again. Sometimes I am on the brink of tears and I don't know why. Partly I believe it is because it is so hard again. Other times I am thrilled because I am pushing myself again and actually making progress. I know I am doing it for me and my well being.

I'll leave you with this: I must have about 3 different types of yogurt in our fridge right now: plain lowfat greek yogurt, about 12 Chobani yogurt and fruit cups and a middle eastern, thicker yogurt used as a sour cream replacement. Add to that: a recent order of a 90 day supply of hefty probiotics. The Spartan felt the urge to tell me that even though I am in a rough patch right now, at least I have the most multi-cultural colon in all of Oakland.

Decisions

I'm sitting here on my couch, right leg elevated in a compression sock, my calf in a knot and utterly depressed. From the get go, these last few months have been hard on my body. They were supposed to be getting better. I was supposed to be getting better. I was supposed to go slow,  recover and ease back into my workouts. I did. When I felt ill or pushed too hard, I backed off. I didn't back down, I just relaxed and took it easy the next time I worked out. I noticed my body was cranky. I couldn't run as far or as fast. I had pains when I lifted weight, ab machines were torture and the elliptical was my enemy. I persisted. I even looked to lower impact activities like yoga or swimming to keep some level of activity.

Weight crept back on me and I'm at my heaviest once again. The scale says a number that I saw in the summer of 2011 and vowed I would never get back to. Lo and behold, I am missing an organ and a fibroid and I'm that weight again. How's that for an accomplishment?! My stomach protrudes 2 inches in a day depending on my activity or intake. Pants I bought this summer don't fit. I tried to start off slowly and run again, a measly two mile jog and bam! I stepped off a curb tonight, heard a pop and now I'm in agony. I'm sure this means at least 6 weeks of no running/elliptical/up hill treadmill workouts. Great. I'm destined to be a fat cow no matter what I do.

Every time I try to focus on my health or activity after this godforsaken hysterectomy it's been nothing but awful. I'm constantly reminded of where I was vs where I am. And I hate it. I can't see how I am going to lose the 20 pounds I put back on by just eating less and...sitting here. I sit at my desk ALL day. I sit at night. I try to work out and I get hurt or sidelined for weeks. 

It's one of those times I feel cursed I haven't had the flu this year. Everyone around me has been sick or bed ridden with a blessed stomach virus or knock you on your ass bug. Me? Nothing. Sure I have allergies from hell, but that doesn't stop me from eating or slowly metabolizing every bite of a meal at the rate of a sloth sitting at a buffet.

I have decisions to make and I don't know where to start. I track my calories, I cut down when I need to, more restrictions are only going to make me miserable. I always envisioned myself a year later being in a better place. When I think about April, I don't see that happening at all.

Disagreeable

(c) Bombshell Betty Pin-Up Workshop

It's clearly time to update since my "resolution" to post weekly just isn't happening. Mean Mama with a rolling pin just hasn't been feeling it lately. I've just been so...disagreeable as of late. That's why I've been keeping things to myself.

My pin-up shots came back to me though and I am happy to report I didn't hate all of them. Evidence to your left. While one outfit did not work at all, the rest came out ok. I know I'll never be 100% happy with the way I look, and I'm smacking myself for not doing this when I was 15 pounds lighter, but what am I going to do? Nothing. I'm going to enjoy remembering being a pin up for a few hours and move on.

I haven't been in a cave or under something heavy, unless you count body fat. I've been good about taking swimming lessons and am embarking on my last two classes this week. I'm a little sad and I don't think I'm quite ready to freestyle it on my own in the big girl pool, but I've definitely learned more in the past month than I did in junior high gym class!

My teacher is great, not too pushy, doesn't baby us and actually has a sense of humor and casual teaching style. I still get nervous when it's my turn to practice a stroke or cross the pool, but at least I'm doing it. I even braved the lap pool to practice my kicks this past Saturday. And lived to tell the tale. I also learned that old lady swimmers at the Y are REALLY FREAKING BOSSY.

Work has been keeping me busy and exhausted during the day. How did I ever survive my casual 9-5 job at the non-profit and think it would ever be that easy again. It won't! I've really stepped up and am pretty much assisting 10 salespeople as well as promoting our services in 10 different areas. Hello project management, nice to meet you. 

Working out still takes a toll on my body. I attempted some ab work this weekend and am still in pain 3 days later. I hurt so bad and I'm blown up like a puffer fish that I'm worried I over did it by simply using an upper abdominal machine. It hurts to stand up straight! I know I haven't been doing hard core work, but man, I DO run, stretch and do crunches etc... I was not prepared for the stiffness I feel now.

Caramelizing onions for my soup!

My weight continues to fluctuate in the wrong direction. I am going to start a spreadsheet of measurements and keep tracking my food. I am maintaining at about 1450 cal a day, but apparently that's still too much for me to lose anything. Sigh. I've been bringing my own lunches, under 400 cal. My snacks include greek yogurt, grapes, baked chips or a banana and hard boiled egg. I eat breakfast. I don't gorge on dinner and yet, I keep growing and growing. Fucking frustrating.

Right now my belly is sticking out 2 inches more than it did on Saturday, so I have no clue what's going on. This "swelly belly" is terrible and I can't believe 9 months later I'm still dealing with this crap. I think it's because I overdid it at the gym. Go figure, this figure of disgust I see before me.

I can't even sit in the tub without loathing my body. I sat around this weekend and thought for a bit. While I was proud of myself for swimming, making it to the gym 3x this week, cooking healthy foods for my lunches etc, I still am not happy. I realized I've probably spent a good 25 years hating my body come to think of it. I'd really love to be able to at least tolerate it for a bit. Sigh. A quarter of a century of hate and 25 pounds I'd like to lose. Coincidence? I think not.

I've fallen off the wagon cooking 7 days a week, so sometimes after work or swim class a frozen meal makes it's way into our bellies. I did make some homemade kick ass french onion soup earlier this month, rekindled my love for yuba strips and made my way back to Paso Robles for some delectable wine tastings again. Ah, to be reminded of simpler times while on unemployment and warmer weather and winos beckoned me...

The Spartan and I ventured down to the Central Coast with the beard over MLK weekend. We had a few wine shipments to pick up as well as test out the new hybrid car he bought, Stay Puft is his name. It's a Ford C-Max Energi in pearlescent white and sometimes, even I get to drive it. It's usually after popping a Xanax and only within a 4 mile radius for now, heh. Let's just say I'm still nervous behind the wheel and parking is 50/50 for me.

The Beard and I sharing a hotel bed on a Sunday morning.

I know it's just the beginning of the year. Who knows where I will be 3 months from now. I have started up my Couch to 5K program again. Somewhere between September and December my body lost the ability to run. I lost my stamina and my legs. While I ran during the summer periodically and hit the gym a lot, I took a break and then something changed. I felt worse than when I first started back after surgery. My body decided that pounding the pavement was not what it felt like doing anymore. I've gone back to the treadmill and interval runs where I struggle to reach 2 miles. I do uphill climbs and I jog at a leisurely pace. I thought I would be able to train for another half marathon this Spring, but at the rate I'm going, a 5K will be challenge enough. This gets me down, I will admit that.

I will continue to go easy on my body and swim though. I will focus on diet and eat even more lettuce. I will not deny myself, but I will not reward myself with food. I just can't wait for my body to agree with me again.

Planning

I'm going to think of this when I feel like an 80 year old woman trying to get on the elliptical tomorrow. 

Tonight I will pack my new gym bag and brave the gym after work. I know it will be crowded and the chance for either a tread mill or spot on the elliptical might be slim, but I've got to start somewhere. 

I start swimming Tuesday. Wednesday I'll take off. Swim Thursday, and I will attend my first hot yoga class Friday night. Saturday/Sunday I have plans for the gym then hot yoga or vice versa... I hope that it won't be too much for my body. Ideally, I'd like to get some work out in 5-6 days a week. There will be sweating. There will be more laundry. There will be no more quiet nights and home on the couch by 5:45. There will be fighting of public transit, cold waits by the bus stop and the trying of my patience by new resolutionaries. It's going to take a lot of planning. I hate planning.

That's really all I'm going to tell myself or expect of myself. How the week pans out or how I'll feel after work is up to the fates. Planning my meals is tough for the week but I'm going to try. I'm going to try and drive more too - actually took the car out this weekend to run some errands in Berkeley and didn't die. I even survived paid parking and RAIN. I got my hair cut again, but just an in between trim. I'd like to grow out my hair again but the process is horrendous. We'll see how my beloved hair dresser this time when 2 months go by and I want to pull my hair out. I see more grays popping through as well and this kills me. I can't dye my hair this month because of swimming, so hopefully I won't emerge as Bonnie Raitt in February. (I love me some Bonnie, just not ready for the big ole white streak myself yet)

I don't want to start off the year thinking "I'm going to be a brand new me!" No, I'm just going to work on being a better version of me. 

Resolve

It's hard to believe that a year ago this week I had one of my first major accomplishments in half marathon training. I ran 10 miles. Wow. Compared to how I feel now, that feeling seems sooo far off. I haven't run in about 3 weeks now and the last time I ran it wasn't all that great, 3 miles tops and I felt utterly defeated afterwards.  I had belly button soreness for a few days after too.

I was also taking boxing classes at this time in 2012 and I miss them. I don't think I am physically ready to get back into that yet. Total core work and real high intensity cardio. These two things are not high on my list of to-do's or "can do's" right now. And it sucks. I don't want to start the year off mopey, but I feel like I can't stop comparing myself to then and now! ugh!

I know I have to take it one step at a time. I am partnering up with a friend to hold each other accountable. Daily texts or reminders or weekly check ins to see how we're doing. I am making sure I pack my lunches, not snacking during the day and getting some veggies in every meal. My schedule has not allowed me to work out yet, but Saturday is back to the gym. I fear the crowds. I fear the new year resolutioners, the over crowding, the lack of resources for folks who will commit for two weeks and then disappear.

Swimming starts next week and I am incredibly nervous. I will spend my time in a towel up until the very last minute and throw myself into the shallow end in an ill-fitting bathing suit til the swimming instructor tells me what to do. I keep having flashbacks to junior high swim class where I was utterly mortified at the fact of getting into a swimsuit at the ripe old age of 13 in front of my fellow classmates. I was also a terrible swimmer who barely learned to breathe because I was too busy dying a slow social death compared to the svelte swim team or girls, or god forbid, the DIVERS. They were like lean pool princesses with such grace and skill, I just feigned period cramps or skulked away to the shallow end o the pool to hide my flaws under the water. I still believe the recycled, faded swim suits made of horrible material were created to just show EVERY flaw a young female form could possibly have. Seriously, used swim suits? Ugh. That would never fly today.

I shudder to think how my body will react to cardio. I don't know where all this fear is coming from. Who am I? Fear of failure, fear of the water, fear of crowds etc This is coming from the girl who ran muthafucking 10 miles alone last year in this month! Gah!

I hate being one of those people who define how good or bad their year was depending on their pant size. But I am. I'm wearing jeans for the first time at work (it IS casual Friday ya know) and my belly is protruding from my shirt. The waist band is tight. I'm uncomfortable. It's a bit of self punishment so that when I feel like indulging in some work snack or bad lunch, the way my pants dig into me will tell me otherwise.

I hate how this blog has become all what I cannot do, what I used to do. I resolve to turn it around and focus on what I CAN do. What I WILL do. I'm tired of feeling bad for every piece of food I put in my mouth. I'm tired of well, being tired. It's a new year. I am going to commit to myself. I am going to be financially responsible, hello paying off credit cards and loans. I am going to focus on fitness. I am going to try to write a post every week at the minimum. I am going to try and be nice to myself, no matter how slow the going may be or how hard the first steps are...again.