A Love Letter to the Corporeal Me

Dear Body,

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.

A person I admire 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.

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. 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.
5. 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.
6. 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.
7. 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.
8. 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.
9. 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.
10. 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.

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.

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.

Thanks for being my Body.

Love,

Allison

This 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.

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.

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:

1. Eat a good breakfast every morning.
2. Coffee only--no lattes or mochas.
3. Salads or Lean Cuisine for lunch.
4. High fiber, high protein, low fat dinners.
5. Dessert on weekends only.
6. Alcohol on weekends only.

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.

Wish me luck!

Broken Halo

Three words: Girl Scout Cookies.

(Three more words: six mile run.)

Phat Phoenix

Ah yes, the extra weight is rising from the ashes like the fabled bird of old.

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.

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.

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:

1. Ask Madison if she'll email me weekly workout plans in exchange for a nominal fee.
2. Exchange daily emails with my friend Angela (she of the cold post-marathon pomegranate juice) about my eating habits.
3. 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.
4. Stay away from the devil water!
5. Start weekly meal plans again. Especially cooking dinner from my Weight Watcher's cookbook.
6. Buy myself a new article of clothing once I get back down to my goal.

There you have it, in black and white. I'm hoping the next thing to rise from the ashes will be my self esteem.

It 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.

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 sans respirator and pacemaker, so much the better.

So, off I trot to the gym, to earn the moniker I have chosen: Skinny Mommy.

Happy New Year.

I.O.U....

...about a dozen blog entries. Sorry, folks...I've just been so swamped lately!

I promise to write over my Christmas vacation when I'll have a little more time.

For now, here's the Reader's Digest version:

1. I kicked ass in the half marathon, knocking more than 7 minutes off last summer's time.
2. I met with Madison today for the first time in a month. Didn't quite make my goal (see "progress"), but not too bad.
3. I can now do pullups with only the red (thinnest) band for assistance.
4. Today is my anniversary of signing up at the gym. I joined one year, 28 pounds, and 9% body fat ago today.

Talk to you soon...in the meantime, keep the faith!

SkinnyMommy Resolves

Today 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...

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.

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.

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.

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:
Weight: 157 or less
BF%: 22.5 or less

Did everybody hear that? Now start holding me to it!