Two Weeks and Counting (AKA The Battle…Vol. 4)

Two weeks from today I shall turn 23 years old, so I feel it’s time for another Get Fit Quest 2011 update.

I’ve been sorta struggling to get over the health fence recently. I’m trying, really trying, to be good, to avoid sugar, to blaze the Paleo trail, but it’s been a bumpy road. I keep finding reasons to give in to my addiction, even though they are piss poor reasons: “But it’s my cousin’s 1st communion!”; “But I started my period today!”; “But I really want that chocolate!”

All that said, the scale tells me I’m succeeding still. I guess even though what I’m eating isn’t ideal, how much I’m eating seems to be acceptable, and those 3-mile walks I’ve been taking with my dog are doing their job. My jeans, even the new pairs I’ve bought for my smaller hips, are falling down, my bras are fitting loosely–though not loose enough to drop a cup size –and I’m seeing parts of my body that have been hidden for a decade: my triceps, my hip bones, my abs. It’s pretty awesome.

Now, here’s where I slip rather big news in casually so it won’t cause a fuss. If you’ve read waaaaay back to the start of this webpage, you just might remember that I had a boyfriend. And if you saw my “About” page before I edited it, you might even know that I lived with him. Well, that, uh, ended. I don’t want to go into it. I could write a whole post (or a series of posts) about it that would probably be very interesting and possibly even helpful to my readers, but I won’t because A) I don’t want to be that person that is defined by her relationship or lackthereof and B) he’s still a wonderful person and I won’t let his life become a link on his ex’s website–that would just be SHITTY. However, I need to mention it simply because it is going to affect me whether I like it or not. He was a part of my life for many years, and that’s going to leave a hole. Or many holes.

So how does this relate to this post about health? Well, as of this moment, one hole his absence has left is my appetite. I have no desire to eat ANYTHING. I nibbled some left over shish kabob this morning because I knew I needed to eat something, and I’ll eat some dinner later tonight. But my tummy is quite empty right now, and I’ll allow it to stay that way. Who know how long this will last, but I’m thinking I will reach my birthday weight goal even if I continue sampling foods I know I shouldn’t.

Aaaaalright, well that’s out of the way.

So, yeah, the Get Fit Quest hasn’t (so far) been the complete lifestyle shift that wakes up my system, but I’m improving. And that’s what’s important, right? I’m working towards a healthier, better version of myself, even if it’s slightly slower going than I had hoped.

Life, after all, is a process. I’m learning that more and more every day.

The Loony Side of Weight Loss

Knowing that most of my food/diet-related posts to come will be pretty…unfun… a drag, some may say, for a brief moment, I’d like to keep things light and tell you about some of the ludicrous weight-ish thoughts that drift through my head during the day.

“I finally got used to having boobs, I should keep eating crap but just workout A TON and then I’ll be small everywhere but my bra.” OK, maybe this needs a wee bit of explanation. I was president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee during high school. I, like many girls, wished at times for something more voluptuous to fill my vintage T-shirts, but I came to terms with inheriting my mother’s boyish chest. As it happened, I took after my father’s sisters more than I did my mother, seeing as my D-cups showed up sophomore year of college. Old (male) friends have had to relearn how to hug me. Boys I crushed on as a flat-chested nerd in 11th grade have been crawling out of the woodwork for the last year,  and I can only assume it’s due to the pictures of my new figure that are up on Facebook. One of my dearest friends has commented ruefully that if I looked like I do now back in the hellish halls of Cousino, I would have probably had a real date to prom…or at least lost my virginity. And one of my mom’s friends even asked me if I got a boob job. So, now you see that my chest is a topic of interest to more than a few people.

It’s took me two years to stop hating my boobs, and another year to learn to appreciate their asthetic value, so now, as they start retreating, it is a bit of a shock. But not totally unwelcome. That said, the shallow side of me panics when I lose so much as an ounce in my bra and starts urging me to give in to my sugar cravings. It hollers, “So what if your ass if fat?! Your breasts are fabulous. ”

“If I go to the bathroom, my thighs will instantly be smaller.” I know, I know, this is not so, and I’ve never believed it to be at any point. But nearly every time I go to the loo, the little personal trainer in my head says that my pants will instantly fit better. Every time. I don’t get it, really I don’t.

“Coffee erases calories.” This is more wishful thinking than anything else. I love a good cup of tea, and drink that much more often than coffee these days, but one of the great loves-of-my-life is a sweet, creamy latte. Or even a mug of Folger’s with hazelnut Coffee Mate. YUM. I am drawn to the beautiful bean as a moth is drawn to a flame, as Obama is drawn to health care reform, as Amy Winehouse is drawn to…you know what, too far. But yes, I loooovvve coffee. BUT, it has a tendency to…make its escape rather quickly. Ahem. This little side-effect has led me to the thinking that coffee just sweeps all the stuff I just ate right out. It doesn’t, but I’ve used that thinking as an excuse to stop at Starbuck’s more than a few times.

“You will never find love if you are thin!” Yeah, I am for real here. I met my guy when I was coming off a summer of doctor-ordered couch potatoing, so, lemme tell you, I was NOT looking my best. But even then he thought I was cute. Thusly, when I start to shed poundage, something inside me fears losing the curves that “won me my man.” Which is absurd. First of all, I don’t know many guys who have anything against a flat stomach and nice legs on a woman. Am I right? Second, as if I could ever lose enough weight to say goodbye to my bum (even as a twiggy 10 year old, I still had a little peach-bottom. I should post photographic evidence of this at some point, it’s hysterical: bony arms, knobby knees, spiky shoulder blades, BOOTY.) And third, even if my boyfriend for some reason had a problem with my new, fitter frame, uh, he can be replaced. I’m not actively looking to exchange the model I have, but I have enough ego to know that I totally could if I wanted to. (You hear that Richard? I could. Live in fear! Hehehe…kidding.)

“If I exercise I will lose too much weight, so let’s reserve here.” WTF? From whence do these insane thought come? I know not. I workout…sometimes. I do my yoga once or twice a week, I try to go running as often as possible, I workout with resistance bands now and then…but I am by no means overexerting myself. I’ll have a good week during which I go running 4 times, and then I won’t lace up my shoes for two weeks. I can be quite the lazy sack of bricks. So it’s outrageous that during certain moments when I’m ready to break my inertia, this lousy excuse comes to mind. I make myself laugh.

So, yeah, the voices in my head (and apparently there are many of them O.o) tells me rather batty things. These little above mentioned gems float through my head at random, trying to divert my focus on becoming a better version of myself, but these days, they are easier and easier to ignore. And more often than not, I get a good chuckle out of it. Seriously, you try taking a pee and think, “Yay! I’m skinny now!” and not laugh out loud.