tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48926676297317529502024-02-07T04:13:27.704-08:00Skinny MommyThink Shape Magazine meets Bridget Jones' Diary. I'm fighting every mother's fight: losing the baby weight and recovering some semblance of my old body. But I need accountability, people! So read on. Cheer my 5-mile runs, boo my cheesecake consumption. Knowing you're watching will help me reach my goal!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-74901097198952594692012-09-12T11:43:00.000-07:002012-09-12T11:43:59.796-07:00A Love Letter to the Corporeal Me<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Dear Body,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for what I said about you
this morning. It’s not your fault you look the way you do, and it’s especially
not your fault when I get dissatisfied with how you look. After all, you didn’t
make the rules that decide what looks good and what doesn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">A <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOWqSPJZtmA&feature=player_embedded" target="_blank">person I admire</a> recently suggested that, when I’m feeling
bad about you, it might help to thank you for all the good things you do and are.
So, without further ado, here’s a list of the things I appreciate, but too
often take for granted, about you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<ol>
<li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Your curly hair ROCKS. It was fashionably big in the 80s and has transitioned to being appropriately mom-like and professional. Plus, it’s a nice color, and it’s fun to twirl around my finger.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Your teeth are nice and strong and (after wearing braces three different times) straight. They make a nice smile. I’ll try to use it more.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">You have long, elegant fingers that can span an octave and a major third on the piano. Plus, they’re pretty good at typing, which comes in handy (ha!) when I’m being all writerly.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">You have pretty, glowing skin that looks good with or without makeup. It doesn’t sunburn easily and, thus far, hasn’t shown too many wrinkles. <o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Your stomach seems to be made of iron, and is therefore impervious to stomach flu. Seriously, it’s been at least a decade since the last time I had it, and I’ve never had food poisoning.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">To tell the truth, your legs are kind of a big deal. They walk me to work every day, have carried me through several half and full marathons, and no matter how much extra weight I put on them, they always look good in a short skirt.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Your eyes are a pretty shade of grayish-blue. And I appreciate that their prescription hasn’t changed for a few years. I mean, they may not see particularly well, but at least they aren’t getting any worse.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Despite your congenital disposition to the contrary, your pancreas is really good at making insulin to handle whatever sugar I throw at it. I hereby promise to do my very best to keep it that way.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Since we’re talking about organs, your brain is amazing. First of all, it’s huge (or at least, I assume it is, given my GIANT head size), and it does all kinds of cool stuff like solving math problems, remembering a little French and most of my family’s and friends’ birthdays, and coming up with just the right word when I need it. Not to mention all the stuff I never have to think about at all, like blinking and breathing.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-fareast-font-family: Verdana;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">And last but not even close to being least, you created, nurtured, birthed, and fed an ACTUAL HUMAN BEING. No one told you how. You just did it all on your own. And may I say, that was some stellar work, because the human being in question (my daughter) is a miraculous little work of art.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So, Body, I hope you can forgive me for the bad stuff I’ve
thought and said about you. I’m sorry I’ve taken you for granted, because in
the end, I’m really lucky to have you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And since you’re stuck with me—at least for another 40 years
or so, if my family history is any indication—I’ll make you a deal. I’ll try to
take better care of you and appreciate you more, and you just keep doing what
you’re doing. Because really, when all is said and done, what you do is
amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Thanks for being my Body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Allison<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-64180773769648013182009-05-18T10:44:00.001-07:002009-05-18T11:24:41.936-07:00This time she means it.No, I really do. It's getting ridiculous. I've been hovering around 160 (give or take a couple pounds) and 23% (give or take a couple points of body fat) for months now. I got myself into this fitness challenge at the gym. I'm exactly halfway through it--one more month to go--and I have nothing to show for it. It's time to buckle down.<br /><br />Never mind that the weather here in Seattle is FINALLY getting warmer, which makes a gin and tonic or two on the back porch extra-super enjoyable, and I'm biking to work a lot, which means I SURELY deserve a chocolate chip cookie as a reward. Or eight. The problem isn't working out (it never is for me); it's not eating like a half-starved, chocolate-craving wildebeest.<br /><br />So I'm back to the embarrassment factor. Nothing else seems to work. Hence my first blog entry in two months. For the next four weeks, I vow to do the following:<br /><br />1. Eat a good breakfast every morning.<br />2. Coffee only--no lattes or mochas.<br />3. Salads or Lean Cuisine for lunch.<br />4. High fiber, high protein, low fat dinners.<br />5. Dessert on weekends only.<br />6. Alcohol on weekends only.<br /><br />Mmmmkay? Got that, world? I'll report, but feel free to ask me about it, too. Like I said, the way my brain is built, the thought of having to report chocolate cake consumption on my blog/Facebook page, is a highly motivational reason not to do it.<br /><br />Wish me luck!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-44797019645421893822009-03-02T10:12:00.000-08:002009-03-02T10:13:50.756-08:00Broken HaloThree words: Girl Scout Cookies.<br /><br />(Three more words: six mile run.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-29038796637454224592009-02-12T13:00:00.000-08:002009-02-12T13:58:21.022-08:00Phat PhoenixAh yes, the extra weight is rising from the ashes like the fabled bird of old.<br /><br />For the past month or so, my weight has been hovering around 160#. My intention, of course, is to maintain 155#. So I was already a little behind. Then on Monday and Tuesday, I was sick. I went home early from work both days to sleep--and what was my weight yesterday, after only two days away from the gym? 163. Holy crap.<br /><br />This is a slippery slope, kids. I mean, for awhile, I wondered if I could just be happy with 160, because I seemed to be able to maintain that. But from there I could probably talk myself into 165, and from there to 170, and the next thing I knew, I'd have gained all 30 pounds back.<br /><br />So! Obviously some things need to change. Madison the Trainer moved to Portland, and I can't really afford another 6 training sessions at the gym anyway (they only sell them in packs of 6), so my strategies are as follows:<br /><ol><li>Ask Madison if she'll email me weekly workout plans in exchange for a nominal fee.</li><li>Exchange daily emails with my friend Angela (she of the cold post-marathon pomegranate juice) about my eating habits.</li><li>Start driving to work again. I know it's bad for the environment, but it will double the amount of time I am able to spend at the gym every day (and still get home in time to put the Cricket to bed) and there isn't much of a price difference.</li><li>Stay away from the devil water!</li><li>Start weekly meal plans again. Especially cooking dinner from my Weight Watcher's cookbook.</li><li>Buy myself a new article of clothing once I get back down to my goal.</li></ol><p>There you have it, in black and white. I'm hoping the next thing to rise from the ashes will be my self esteem.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-46847826557604769092009-01-26T14:29:00.000-08:002009-01-26T14:36:34.198-08:00It would be easier just to be fat.Seriously. I could eat all the chocolate and bread and cheese I wanted to. I wouldn't have to wedge the gym into my schedule every day. I could spend the baby's weekend naps sleeping or watching TV or reading instead of running.<br /><br />But diabetes and high blood pressure run in my family. And the first 1.5 years of the Cricket's life have been so incredibly awesome, I'd really like to stick around for as many more of them as I can possibly manage. And if I can spend the vast majority of those <em>sans</em> respirator and pacemaker, so much the better.<br /><br />So, off I trot to the gym, to earn the moniker I have chosen: Skinny Mommy.<br /><br />Happy New Year.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-20424402364974577532008-12-17T13:03:00.001-08:002008-12-17T13:10:47.697-08:00I.O.U.......about a dozen blog entries. Sorry, folks...I've just been so swamped lately!<br /><br />I promise to write over my Christmas vacation when I'll have a little more time.<br /><br />For now, here's the <em>Reader's Digest</em> version:<br /><ol><li>I kicked ass in the half marathon, knocking more than 7 minutes off last summer's time.</li><li>I met with Madison today for the first time in a month. Didn't quite make my goal (see "progress"), but not too bad.</li><li>I can now do pullups with only the red (thinnest) band for assistance.</li><li>Today is my anniversary of signing up at the gym. I joined one year, 28 pounds, and 9% body fat ago today.</li></ol><p>Talk to you soon...in the meantime, keep the faith!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-25013491980203599112008-11-17T16:06:00.000-08:002008-11-17T16:15:45.521-08:00SkinnyMommy ResolvesToday was my last training session with Madison. I have to say I kind of blew it (just look at "Progress" on the left). But first, some background information...<br /><br />I was a single mom this weekend. The Boy was in California on tour. This is usually not a problem...but for some reason, the Cricket has been really fussy lately. She could be getting molars. She could be hitting a growth spurt. She could just be frustrated that her motor skills and vocabulary have not yet caught up with her will. Whatever the cause, she really challenged her mommy this weekend.<br /><br />And what was her mommy's reward for the end of a day of being climbed and cried on? "I've earned a drink! And dessert! And Camembert!" All of which translated into less-than-impressive numbers, which really sucked, because we also did my measurements today. I was very disappointed with myself.<br /><br />Now, on to the title of this entry. As part of my gym membership, I get a free "maintenance session" with my trainer every month. I'm supposed to call Madison on the 10th of December to set something up for the following week.<br /><br />So here's the deal, you guys. I'm saying this in front of God and everybody: regardless of the fact that this appointment will be smack in the middle of a holiday season, I resolve that, when Madison takes my stats, they will be as follows:<br />Weight: 157 or less<br />BF%: 22.5 or less<br /><br />Did everybody hear that? Now start holding me to it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-10229264259495576922008-11-13T14:29:00.000-08:002008-11-13T14:33:51.081-08:00It's time for a Sing-Along!<span style="color:#996633;"><em>All right, everyone, to celebrate a personal best I achieved at the gym on Monday, I'm leading a sing-along. So don your best early-90's gear (that baggy plaid flannel looks GREAT on you) and sing with me to the tune of The Proclaimers' "I'm Gonna Be" (most of us know it as "500 Miles"). Deep breath...and...sing!</em></span><br /><br />When I wake up<br />Well you know I’m gonna be<br />I’ll be at the gym and workin’ out with you<br /><br />When I do pushups<br />Well you know I’m gonna be<br />I’ll be the girl who’s pushin’ up much more than you<br /><br />And when I run out (when I run out!)<br />Well you know I’m gonna be<br />I’m gonna be the girl who’s runnin’ right past you<br /><br />When I go shopping<br />Well you know I’m gonna be<br />I’ll be buyin’ up a pair of 8s or two<br /><br />I’ll be buyin’ up a pair of 8s…or two<br /><br />CHORUS<br />And-ah I would squat 100 pounds<br />And-ah I would squat 100 more<br />Just to be the girl who squats a hundred pounds<br />And falls down on the floor<br /><br />Da-da dat-da da<br />Da-da dat-da da<br />Da-da-la da-da-la da-da-la<br />Da-da-la da-da-la da-dah<br /><br />Da-da dat-da da<br />Da-da dat-da da<br />Da-da-la da-da-la da-da-la<br />Da-da-la da-da-la da-dahUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-20384228649888982372008-11-04T21:26:00.000-08:002008-11-04T21:27:48.397-08:00Wish you were here.Grandpa, if you were alive to see this day, you'd have been <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">so proud</span> of your country.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-74699067542267697602008-11-04T10:42:00.000-08:002008-11-04T10:47:49.356-08:00Not so off-topic...<span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">Have<strong> </strong>you <strong><span style="color:#000099;">V</span><span style="color:#cc0000;">O</span><span style="color:#000099;">T</span><span style="color:#cc0000;">E</span></strong><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>D</strong> </span><span style="color:#000000;">today?</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-60288983261881877482008-11-03T16:41:00.000-08:002008-11-03T19:13:37.407-08:00Guest Column: VenetianBlond Finds a Gym<em><span style="color:#009900;">For a long time now, I've been wanting to feature guest columnists on SkinnyMommy. After all, I'm not the only one trying to be a parent, lose weight, stay fit, and eat the occasional dessert. The perfect opportunity came when a good friend emailed me about her recent gym-finding saga. Viola, SkinnyMommy's first guest columnist: Please give a warm welcome to VenetianBlond!</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#009900;">--Zapatera</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#009900;"></span></em><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Searching for a gym. Oh, joy. Not something I relish doing, but my current one just isn't hacking it. Now that I'm working full-time, the fact that they're not open at all on Sunday, and only 7-3 pm on Saturday (prime soccer game time for resident 6-year-olds) and only until 6 pm M, W, and F--well, it's just not working for me. So, I think, well, I'll get some advice from SkinnyMommy and see where that takes me. And oh, yes, we will name names! </span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">The two gyms nearest my home are a Bally's and an LA Fitness. Bally's is on the same side of the busy street we live near, so potentially bikeable, but the LA Fitness has a pool. Then I find out that SkinnyMommy had a nightmare experience with a long term contract at Bally's. Thanks for the tip!</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">So I did sign up with LA Fitness. What impressed me:</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">1) My boy said he wanted to play in the Kids Klub instead of tour with me. I was kind of surprised. Drop in Kids Klub is only $3 so I can work out if K-Ice is not home. My boy totally loved it. </span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">2) The sales tour only lasted 5 minutes. He didn't hijack me for half an hour to make the sale.</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">3) He correctly assessed my fitness (although I did tell him when we met that I was thinking of changing gyms) that I was in pretty good shape and just wanted to maintain or set some new fitness goals. (If he were to give me the weight loss hard sell I would have sashayed my generous booty on the way out.)</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">4) The sales guy said that their corporate office is more focused on retention, which if true, is a much better business model than being reliant on new sales.</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">5) It's all month-to-month. There's the registration fee, which wasn't too bad, and then I paid first and last. That's it. No time limit.</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">6) Classes are included and I get one free one hour personal training session. After the free one, they're $40 per session, which I think is pretty reasonable. (I'm set to see Nate at 8 on Monday.)</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">SkinnyMommy has been a real inspiration to not just settle for the status quo. I've been wearing size 8s for a while now, but how nice to be fit enough to run a 5k when someone suggests it, or be ready to play a pickup soccer or softball game without getting injured (okay, guilty).</span><br /><br /><em><span style="color:#006600;">Thanks, VB, and let us know how it went with Nate! In the meantime, folks can visit her <a href="http://venetianblond.blogspot.com/">blog</a> to read about her latest pickup games.</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-45875818758152025742008-10-28T11:46:00.001-07:002008-10-28T11:59:56.876-07:00HSPU Progress<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTErmZPQuX7W2NYA3FihzrhW6OUGEJ5V4KY540D_b5CLsaEDVqBsY956CMG3x-gUNlr4TfpmAZcACch98b4BK-2asKF3TH6e5lqke-zwiyBvDntIoAKAiqPF2tWPU0cinrMmja2-p5ls/s1600-h/Smith+bar+hspus.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262281263697469378" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTErmZPQuX7W2NYA3FihzrhW6OUGEJ5V4KY540D_b5CLsaEDVqBsY956CMG3x-gUNlr4TfpmAZcACch98b4BK-2asKF3TH6e5lqke-zwiyBvDntIoAKAiqPF2tWPU0cinrMmja2-p5ls/s320/Smith+bar+hspus.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Not to drown you in alphabet soup, but Madison's making me learn the shorthand for all the basic exercises. HSPU does not, as you might imagine, denote some obscure state university; rather, it stands for "hand-stand pushups."<br /><br />I was telling you about the first stage of these, which involves one's knees on a bench. Yesterday Madison had me do three or four of these while she watched critically. She must've liked what she saw, because she pronounced me ready for the next stage which, she warned me, was "a big leap."<br /><br />She wasn't kidding. The next thing I knew, we had the Smith bar set to about the level of my chin, my hands on the floor, and my feet hooked around the bar. The idea is to touch your head to the floor and use your arms to push yourself back up, using your legs if you need to. It looks like the photo above, or, as The Boy said when I told him about it, "Really dramatic."<br /><br />The form took quite a bit of getting used to, and after a few awkward tries, I told Madison that perhaps I should go back to the bench. She scoffed and told me to keep trying. On the third round, I did ten in a row! "And you wanted to go back to the bench," Madison laughed.<br /><br />It would seem she knows what she's doing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-32547370607869716862008-10-21T13:54:00.000-07:002008-10-21T14:10:35.085-07:00The Ultimate Fitness Test<a style=" background: #000 url(http://www.bunkbeds.net/velociraptor/img/badge.jpg) no-repeat 0 0; display: block; width: 322px; height: 157px; text-align: center; padding-top: 150px; text-decoration: none; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 30px; color: #ff9900; " href="http://www.bunkbeds.net/velociraptor/"> <span style="display: none;">I could survive for</span> 1 minute, 6 seconds <span style="display: none;">chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor</span> </a> <p>Created by <a href="http://www.bunkbeds.net">Bunk Beds Pedia</a></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-46714350523510529422008-10-21T09:41:00.000-07:002008-10-21T09:48:04.219-07:00Don't make me laugh.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM25_tB_n0VYntqJaSDviBBE8kGPrxx5aVoNvuH3qpWb83T8GHKay9UZjv2nP69zIt7UTIb6LkBkzBW2NSGdj5858KXA_WLw6-btCE6lsB3ZZP_tJdkB6ijIR78PpSMg_nk-E3TkapR1Q/s1600-h/yukon_hyperextension_machine_hyp-156.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259649834078237826" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM25_tB_n0VYntqJaSDviBBE8kGPrxx5aVoNvuH3qpWb83T8GHKay9UZjv2nP69zIt7UTIb6LkBkzBW2NSGdj5858KXA_WLw6-btCE6lsB3ZZP_tJdkB6ijIR78PpSMg_nk-E3TkapR1Q/s320/yukon_hyperextension_machine_hyp-156.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>No really, don't. It hurts too much.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Yesterday, after I had done three killer (timed!) sets of pullups and dead lifts, Madison perkily declared, "Let's kill your abs!" To which I replied, "What did my abs ever do to you?" </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We did a couple sets of ab exercises that I already knew, and then she introduced me to a new one. I can't remember what it's called, but it's done on a roman chair using the full range of motion.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So, imagine (and you will have to imagine it, because it's not true) that I'm the cute blonde in this picture. Now imagine that I bend all the way backward, until I can both look at and touch the floor. Then imagine that, using only my abdominal muscles, I pull myself all the way up until I can touch my ankles. Then imagine I do that 20 times. Then imagine I do three sets.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So please, no jokes today. I might cry.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-15259755199845088812008-10-13T16:09:00.000-07:002008-10-21T09:51:15.061-07:00Turn It Upside-Down...Madison has me doing all kinds of crazy things with freeweights. Today we worked on "overhead squats" and "push jerks."<br /><br />The latter is not, as the name implies, the act of forcibly relieving the neighborhood geek of his milk money; rather, it is an exercise that involves jumping in the air while pushing a 45-lb bar over one's head, then landing in a squat position. A bit daunting for Little Miss Uncoordinated over here.<br /><br />Anyway, it was a good workout, and as we were wrapping up, Madison said, "Man, do this workout with some handstand pushups, and your arms would be killing you!"<br /><br />I'm sorry: did you just say "handstand pushups?" And further, did you say it in such a way as to imply that they are something that I might actually do sometime in my life?<br /><br />Apparently I wasn't hallucinating, because the next thing I knew, I was kneeling on a bench with my hands on the floor, doing "the first step" toward handstand pushups.<br /><br />So, y'know, if editing doesn't work out, I can always hop on the vaudeville circuit....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-12952354205611340702008-10-07T15:00:00.000-07:002008-10-21T09:50:24.178-07:00Yahoo 22!It was recently brought to my attention (thanks, Sis!) that I haven't posted in quite a while. Nearly a month, to put a finer point on it. It seems that life has gotten in the way. Here is a smattering of what has been keeping me busy:<br />1. A new boss at work.<br />2. "Being there" as much as possible for my best friend.<br />3. Volunteering for Barack Obama's campaign.<br />4. Getting buff.<br /><br />Oh yeah, you read that last one right. Madison and I have met four times so far, and she's pushing me pretty hard. The workouts are shorter, the reps are fewer, and the weights are heavier...oh, and the muscles are sorer.<br /><br />But the result? I've knocked out another goal: yesterday my body fat was an even 22%! Considering that I started at 31.7% (and let's keep in mind, shall we, that the American Commission on Exercise considers 32% to be obese), I'd say that's a pretty hefty accomplishment.<br /><br />Of course, we all know a cubic inch of muscle weighs more than a cubic inch of fat, so although my fat percentage has dropped, my weight has climbed a bit and I'm eating more (at Madison's insistance). This is a pretty tough thing to get used to, as I'm very much a numbers girl (pounds and calories, that is). But as long as these size 8s still fit, I guess I shouldn't complain!<br /><br />Madison said that perhaps I should change the name of my blog from "SkinnyMommy" to "BuffMommy." I'll consider it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-36735471851562794722008-09-09T13:05:00.000-07:002008-09-09T13:16:52.183-07:00No Pain, No LossSo I met with Madison for the first time on Friday. She's a hoot. At one point, Dee-Lite's "Groove Is in the Heart" came on over the gym's PA, and I said, "Oh, I love this song! I haven't heard it in years!" She said, "I don't know it." "Really? Dee-Lite? Groove Is in the Heart? Really popular, like, late 80s, early 90s?" She smiled and softly replied, "I was born in the late 80s."<br /><br />Ah. So THAT'S how it's gonna be.<br /><br />But seriously, I think this will be great for me. For one thing, I don't think I realized that I've really been coddling myself weight wise. Some of the exercises I've been doing have just gotten too easy, and rather than ratcheting up the weight and challenging myself, I've been doing them the same as ever and patting myself on the back at how competent and in-shape I am.<br /><br />Well, Madison brought that all crashing down on Friday. To wit: who knew 10 little pushups could be so painful? And why? Because she makes me touch my chest to the bar (can't do 'em that way on the floor yet). Owie.<br /><br />Another thing I'm excited about: She's giving me a specific training schedule for a half marathon (I think I"m going to run the Seattle Half right after Thanksgiving). The best part? "When I'm training for a marathon, I try to run as little as possible. I mean, come on, you already know how to run, right?" I'm telling you, I LOVE this girl.<br /><br />On the down side, doing anything with my arms this weekend was painful; on the up side, I'm back below my target weight. Hey, I'll take pain over gain any day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-3367337810193777032008-09-03T12:42:00.000-07:002008-09-03T12:50:03.200-07:00I am embarrassed, therefore I am skinny.If you'll look to the left, you'll see that I seem to be getting back on track. I was out of town over the weekend, and even though I didn't check any baggage, I packed my running gear in my carry-on (it's a good thing summertime clothes don't take up much room). So getting two three-mile runs over the weekend really seemed to help.<br /><br />It also doesn't hurt that I know I'm being "watched," as it were, by Madison. For example, there are two brownies in my fridge left over from a batch The Boy surprised me with during my Really Bad Week last week. I saw them last night when I got home, and thought, "Mmm! Brownies!" And then thought, "I'll have to tell Madison I ate them." Ipso facto, they're still in my fridge.<br /><br />Also, I find it really motivating to know that, during my first session with Madison on Friday, my weight will be recorded in a much more "official" manner than the way I have been doing it since I least met with Angela. So naturally, I'd like that number to be impressively low.<br /><br />Amazing, the effect potential humiliation has on accountability.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-83635738638722358362008-09-02T12:24:00.000-07:002008-09-02T12:33:40.942-07:00...and away we go...There was one day last week when the scale at the gym said an even 160. Not that I should be surprised: I ate out on every lunch break last week. And we're not talkin' salads. And although I've still been awfully worried about my best friend, the "I need comfort food" excuse only goes so far.<br /><br />After all, what it comes down to is this: I simply cannot allow the hard work of the last eight months to simply disappear as if in a puff of smoke. I can't do it. I'm too fond of my new size 8 clothes.<br /><br />So I finally broke down and made an appointment with a trainer at the gym. I had four sessions left over from my time with Angela, and since I know Madison is a runner (from the time she shadowed Angela during one of our sessions), I thought she would be a good choice--plus I really like her. Our first session is this Friday.<br /><br />I chat with her almost every time I go to the gym, and recently I said something about needing accountability. She asked if I tracked my meals with Angela, and when I said yes, she handed me her business card and said that if I wanted to I could email her my meals every day. Hot damn. There's no turning back now. A completely new person to impress by not drinking too much and keeping the cookie consumption to a minimum: this is just what I need!<br /><br />So, if you'll excuse me, I have an email to write. (Cheerios with skim milk, orange juice, coffee with Splenda...see? Better already!)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-8662177155670200142008-08-26T08:39:00.000-07:002008-08-26T08:52:24.970-07:00When the going gets tough, the tough eat ice cream.Kids, I'm having a rough time. If you have any karma/prayers/extra good thoughts lying around, please use them for my best friend. She's going through a nasty breakup and is potentially suicidal (she attempted once before).<br /><br />Unfortunately, she lives about 2,000 miles away from me, which means all I can do is call her a lot and worry. And how do I deal with my worry? Let's see...I eat. Crap. I sleep. Too much. I cry. A lot. And I take ibuprofen for the headaches. God only knows what my liver looks like these days.<br /><br />I realize that there's only so much I can do, that I shouldn't take this so to heart, that "this too shall pass." But for the life of me I cannot figure out how to let go, to make it not my problem. She's the closest thing I have to a sister, has seen me through all the black parts and laughed with me through all the rainbows. If it is in my power, I cannot let her check out of this world. Not without a fight, anyway.<br /><br />In the meantime, I'll be the one in the corner with the pint of Haagen Dasz. Weight goal, my increasingly large ass.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-17479434724856046242008-08-14T10:49:00.001-07:002008-08-14T10:56:54.262-07:00Just DessertsIt's been a wierd week. Monday morning I had to go to the UW hospital to have an ultrasound-guided biopsy taken of some nodules in my thyroid gland. My chances of them being cancerous are very slim, and the procedure itself wasn't terribly painful, but I was unprepared for its huge emotional effect on me. Add to that the fact that I'm PMSing, and you have yourself a pretty calorie-laden few days.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong: I've been going to the gym faithfully for at least 45 minutes a pop (being careful of my left knee, which is feeling much better after the run-home debacle). But when I get home, I'm tired, freaked out, and hormonal, all of which PERFECTLY justifies a margarita, a glass of wine, and a couple warm homemade chocolate chip cookies topped with ice cream and hot fudge sauce in ADDITION to dinner. Right?<br /><br />Odd: the scale doesn't agree, judging by the fact that it registered a whopping 158 pounds yesterday.<br /><br />I absolutely must get out of this funk and stop putting so much crap in my body (she said, heading for the kitchen with corkscrew in hand).Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-22506470075179553032008-08-08T12:36:00.000-07:002008-08-08T12:51:04.507-07:00HubrisSo yesterday I discovered (please try to contain your surprise; I myself was shocked) that there are some things I just can't do.<br /><br />For example, it turns out I cannot run two miles with a 20-pound pack on my back. Well, that's not exactly true: I <em>can,</em> but not without painful consequences for my left knee.<br /><br />Before you begin circulating a petition to have me sent to the funny farm, allow me to explain. Yesterday The Boy had a whole bunch of errands to run--too many to run with the Cricket. And since I was tired of going to the gym, I decided to come straight home after work so that he could run errands. I thought I might then strap the Cricket into the jogging stroller and get my workout that way.<br /><br />Instead, I decided to try an idea I have long been tossing around: I ran home from work. Since I had my gym clothes with me, it was relatively easy to accomplish; I merely changed at work, strapped my street clothes and purse securely onto my back, and hopped a bus halfway home (I wanted to do only half of the commute the first time, just to see how it would go).<br /><br />It went just fine. I got a great workout, arrived home in time for The Boy to run his errands, and didn't have to subject The Cricket to a long run at a potentially cranky time of day. But oh, my knee. It didn't start hurting (naturally) until I stopped running, and I did ice it, but it is now a good 18 hours later and I can still feel it. I can walk on it just fine, but the idea of running on it--backpack or no--is quite unpalatable.<br /><br />I was talking to my boss, Sheri--who lives a few blocks away from me--about this recently, and she volunteered to take my pack home for me if I ever wanted to run home. Which is a very sweet offer, but I have this feeling that treating one's boss as a personal valet is pretty high on the list of workplace no-nos.<br /><br />So I'll have to stick to the gym or running once I get home, which is fine. I'm just hoping my knee stops hurting soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-49378976999583706582008-08-05T16:01:00.000-07:002008-08-05T16:08:11.320-07:00So-SoWell, I'm not doing too badly so far this week. Let's check in, shall we?<br /><br />Goal: No alcohol till the weekend. There was one glass-worth left in the Merlot bottle last night. I drank it.<br /><br />Goal: Order salad while out for lunch today. Done. The Grand Central Bakery had an absolutely delicious chicken and green bean salad over greens in a lemon vinaigrette. A glass of iced tea and a table outside in the shade, and I had the ideal way to spend a lunch hour on an 84-degree day.<br /><br />Now, here's the crazy part: you know that pesky gym scale? Yesterday it said 154.8. Seriously. I have no idea how I managed to spend a three-day weekend consuming champagne and wedding cake, NOT running, and still end up back under my goal weight. It wouldn't bug me so much except that I've had weekends during which I have behaved in a manner that would make Botticelli's cute little angels green with envy and still mysteriously gained weight. I am officially finished with trying to figure out how that whole thing works.<br /><br />Anyway, in the interest of refraining from looking that particular gift horse in the mouth, I am going to the store (after the gym, of course) to pick up the ingredients for taco salads. I'm even going to bake my own high-fiber tortilla chips to go with it. Good AND good for you!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-42546979189312347522008-08-04T10:16:00.000-07:002008-08-04T10:26:05.993-07:00Fat Takes a HolidayYeah, don't get all excited. It's not true. <em>I</em> took a holiday, but--the shock!--the scale didn't.<br /><br />I took a three-day weekend to fly to Madison for my cousin Todd's wedding. He asked me to sing, and since he's more like a brother than a cousin, there was no way I would miss it (and I'm glad I didn't; it was just perfect, and his new wife is a wonderful addition to our family).<br /><br />Unfortunately the Boy and the Cricket had to stay home (couldn't afford another plane ticket, plus didn't want to subject the poor tyke to yet another cross-country plane ride so soon after the last one), which resulted in my first-ever nights away from her. I was all excited to sleep in and woke up at 6:15 both mornings. As Robbie Burns said, the best laid plans...<br /><br />But I digress. My point is that, because it was such a short trip, I didn't check any baggage, and there was no room in my roll-aboard for my running shoes and other gear. Meanwhile I was at a wedding, with all the attendant rich food, cake, and champagne. All of which resulted in the proverbial perfect storm of scale slippage.<br /><br />But I'm determined to get back on the wagon. I've decided not to drink any alcohol until this weekend, and to work out at least four of the five days this week. Tomorrow I have a lunch date with a coworker, at which I will order salad (I solemnly swear, and will blog tomorrow to let you know); lunches the rest of the week will consist of Luna bars.<br /><br />I'll check in a week from today with the gym scale and see how it went. Wish me luck!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892667629731752950.post-47919157667465452682008-07-31T12:25:00.000-07:002008-07-31T12:34:20.110-07:00Eulogy for a TrainerOkay, she's not dead (thank heavens). It's more like I'm eulogizing our relationship. My trainer, Angela, is leaving the gym in two weeks to start her own training business.<br /><br />I am of course excited for her (and told her I knew a good writer who would give her a client testimonial if she needed one), and I know she's going to do just fine. But I'll definitely miss her.<br /><br />When she told me this at the gym the other day, she said she was glad she saw me in person because she didn't want to have to tell me this over the phone, and that "It's been a joy."<br /><br />Which is flattering, given that she deserves the lion's share of the credit for the 30 pounds I've lost. Seriously, I couldn't have done it without her.<br /><br />I do have a few sessions left, and Anglea gave me recommendations for trainers who she felt would challenge me, but I wasn't planning on using them anytime soon anyway. We'll just wait and see.<br /><br />So, Angela, if you're reading this (and I know you're not, because you hate the internet), I wish you the very best of luck and I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for helping me uncover the girl I used to be.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1