Letter to my Scale

Dear Scale,

We’ve had our ups and downs. Literally. And when we go up together, well, that’s usually my fault and I wouldn’t dream of holding you responsible. But this week, I have a bone to pick with you. I busted my balls this week. I recorded everything I ate, and I didn’t eat Thai food once this week. Not once. I sacrificed a second helping of lasagna, had a salad instead of the greasy entrée I really wanted, and I even cut my skinny cow ice cream sandwiches in half! Not only that, but I worked out, and I worked out hard! I tried a circuit class this week, and I circuited the crap out if it! I went back to Petra’s* spinning class! She made me sit next to her- talk about pressure! My new walking buddy and I went walking on a snow day. A SNOW DAY. My nipples were poking through my winter jacket, but I went! And even when I hurt my hip like an old lady, I still worked out and made it ten times worse! (OK, that one might be on me). But all my blood, sweat, and tears poured into this week, and for what? For nothing! I thought we had a deal here. I work hard and you show me results. But you didn’t even have the courtesy to budge. Nope, you lazy sack of poo, you just flashed the same numbers as last week!

I really thought we had a good thing going on; when you show me a loss, I, in turn stay motivated and don’t throw in the towel (and by throwing in the towel, I mean eating to a point where I could have my own VH1 reality show). I don’t want to hear excuses, either! You might say something like, “Muscle weighs more than fat. Maybe you’re just gaining muscle.” Or maybe you’d say, “Everyone has stagnant weeks, keep going, maybe you’ll lose some next week.” And you know what I have to say? “You can kiss the fattest part of my ass.” In the words of stupid and creepy Tom Cruise, “Show me the numbers!” Or something like that. So scale, even though I didn’t get my new Jessica Simpson necklace, AND you put me in a foul mood this morning, I’m prepared to have another go at it this week. But if I stay the same again, I really am going to work towards my own VHI show. Maybe the secret is that I need to eat more Thai food, or maybe I need to shake up my workouts a little bit. My gym just added Zumba classes, and I am also going to add some yoga and pilates on top of my cardio workouts. It’s worth a shot. So scale, if you have any brilliant suggestions, I’m all ears. But as of right now, I don’t think we’re on speaking terms.

Sincerely,
Plump and pissed

*Retraction from last blog: Petra, as it turns out, is German and not Russian. Either way, she comes from a country known for strict regimes.

GOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLLL!

That’s right! I’m back, baby! Two and a half pounds lost this week, making the grand total of weight loss 8.5 pounds! (And I suppose if we factor in the 1 pound of weight gain, it will make the total only 7.5, but who’s counting!?!?!?) I left my pity party in the lurch and strapped on my running shoes for an intense week of workouts. I did some weight lifting, boot camp videos, swimming, and I even tried a spin class. I meant to go to the introductory class, but somehow ended up with the seasoned vets and a Russian instructor named Petra; Petra has no mercy. I climbed on a bike, which unfortunately was directly facing the mirror…no one, including me, needs to see my sweaty boobs flopping every which way. And I’m pretty positive that the inside of my ass cheeks has never been as violated as it was by that bike seat. I mean, it just slides right up in there! It hurt to sit for the next two days, but other than that I felt fantastic. I can already feel my cardio endurance improving; I’m practically a jack rabbit! Because, you know, they can go fast and stuff.

As far as eating, well, I still love to do it. A lot. I guess I’m just making better choices most of the time. Although, I still usually hit up the Thai restaurant next door to me because little Thai man and I have bonded, and plus, the pad see ew is so good you’ll have to change your pants afterwards. Plus I still looooooove dessert, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. And poor Barrett, attempting to be helpful, kindly suggested that if I cut out the desserts I could lose even more weight. I kindly suggested that he fuck off. You don’t want to be around me if I haven’t had desserts; I’m cranky, and apparently I start telling people to fuck off. But that’s the amazing thing about Weight Watchers; you can have that stuff and still lose weight. I kind of sound like I’m getting to paid to advertise for them right now, but that’s not the case. Just to reiterate, I, unlike Jennifer Hudson, am not making bank by plugging Weight Watchers. I just happen to like it.

So what’s up next this week? Well, I’m hoping to make my ten pound goal next week, so that means I’d have to lose another 2.5 pounds. That means game on this week! (Discounting the delicious waffles I purchased at the Waffle Window this morning). I’ve got my eye on the prize, which I’ve decided to give myself after every five pound loss. Five pounds was a pedicure, and ten pounds is a necklace I’ve had my eye on since this morning. I was originally going to reward myself with Crest Whitening Strips so my smile would be even more dazzling, but then I remembered that my smile is already pretty bad ass*. Plus, I went shopping this morning and saw this gorgeous necklace by Jessica Simpson. That girl may have more tatas than brains, but she can design jewelry like a champ. So to earn this silvery goodness, I’m going to take my sore buns back to spin class, and aim to hit five workouts again this week. I’m also going to continue tracking all my points, and maybe, just maybe, try to nix a couple of desserts this week.

*My apologies for coming across like an egomaniacal ass hat.

I'm Bloated and I'm not Afraid to Sit on You!

So I’m back from Hawaii, complete with sand in every orifice, and I’m just the teensiest bit cranky! No more vacations to look forward to, no money in my bank account, no sun, no sand - just rain and a mailbox full of bills! You may have a hard time feeling sorry for me, but that’s OK, because I’m busy enough wallowing in my own self pity. Oh, and did I mention that I’ve been drowning my sorrows with food, food, and more food? It’s not pretty. My brain and stomach are still on vacation mode, but now I’m not hiking and swimming to balance it out. I’ve gained one pound back, but truthfully, I don’t know how it’s not ten. I feel like a giant oompa loompa, minus the amazing, green hair. And to top it all off, it’s Valentine’s Day, and there are chocolates everywhere, and all of them manage to wind up in my belly. Ohhhhhhhhhh, boy.

At this moment in time, I’m sitting in my sweat pants and if I had my way, I wouldn’t be getting out of them anytime in the foreseeable future. I have absolutely no willpower whatsoever to do anything remotely active or healthy. I’m in the mood to sit on the couch, M & M’s in hand, watching my booty steadily expand. I’m in desperate need of a swift kick in the ass and some motivation! Now I remember why I started writing this thing in the first place. It sucks enough when you discover you’ve gained weight when you’re in the nude and alone on your bathroom scale. But it sucks big time balls when you have to admit it to the world! (Or the 5 or 6 people who read this on a regular basis). So the point is, I better find motivation somewhere, because I don’t want to have to admit what a lazy pile o’ poo I’ve been two weeks in a row. Next week I want to write about being victorious and amazing and losing the equivalent of a small squirrel’s worth of weight.

So here’s my plan: I’m upping my game. I’m allowing myself to indulge tonight on an awesome Valentine’s dinner out, because after all, I’ll probably work it off later. (I have to clean house and cleaning burns calories…perverts). But after tonight, it’s back on, and I’m going balls to the walls. I’m going to propel myself out of my slug-like state, and commit to five workouts this week instead of four, and maybe those crazy endorphins I keep hearing about will kick in and urge me forward, and I’m going to track every morsel that I eat, and it’s going to be within my Weight Watcher points limit, or so help me! Rereading this blog, the English major in me is disgusted with that hideous, run-on sentence, but grammar can’t stop enthusiasm when it’s spilling out! So this is me committing to an awesome and successful week, so be prepared to be impressed! (But if it turns out that I’m a big, giant failure, please feel free to give me a verbal lashing to get my behind back in gear!).

Hawaii Among Other Things

It’s a hard knock life. Beach bumming, margaritas, swimming in the Pacific, sunsets…it doesn’t get much rougher than this. I can’t really comment much on weight loss or gain because there is no scale here (well I’m sure there is one somewhere in the state, but not at my immediate disposal). All I know is I’ve been enjoying the Hawaiian delicacies of Kalua pig, shave ice, and coconut M&M’s…and yes, some of this stuff you can get in Washington, but it’s just not the same as having it on vacation! And there are some things worth being chunky for…if you’ve ever had Hawaiian shave ice over coconut ice cream, you know what I’m talking about. That stuff is better than sex. Or so I’ve heard. I personally wouldn’t know about these things.

But before you jump on my ass about being over indulgent, just know that I’ve balanced it with lots of fruit, meals at home, and some booty shaping walks on the beach! If you want an instant ass lift, walk on the sand! That is quite a workout in itself! I’ve also taken to taking a hilly walk every evening among other things. I hiked to the top of Diamond Head the other day, and I think I sweat out about 12 pounds. Stunning views! I remembered 8 layers of sun block that day, but forgot the crucial element of deodorant. I smelled like death wrapped in B.O. and I think people noticed. Meh! It’s not the first time I’ve been stanky, and it’s probably not the last. I also got to fulfill a lifelong dream while burning off some calories: I swam with dolphins, and not in a pool, but with actual wild dolphins in the ocean. It was quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever done, snorkeling 4 or 5 feet away from them, and I had to swim pretty damn hard to keep up. Check that off my list of things to do to make me even more awesome.

So, I’m not stressing out about what the scale will say when I get home because I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself and have managed to stay active while doing it. Who would have thought I would enjoy exercising on vacation? But a quick note before I go on the ultimate self esteem buster in Hawaii. You can’t go to the beach without seeing row after row of skinny, tan chicks with big knockers wearing skimpy bikinis and giving every guy on the beach his own personal surf board in his pants. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that wanted to sit on them and deflate their boobs while injecting them with an IV filled with Crisco. But I have just as much right to be on the beach, pasty round thighs and all.

I’ve known too many people, myself included, who have avoided activities for fear of what people will think. I’m not fit enough, I’m too short, I’m too pale, I’m too big, I’m not coordinated enough…whatever the excuse may be. But I’ve had enough of that crap. Who cares? Am I really going to miss out on stuff because I’m too worried about what other people think? Chances are, people are thinking about their own lives, and not the size of my ass. And if they are thinking about that, well, then fuck ‘em. As Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” And with that, I’ll get off my preachy platform, but I’ll leave you with Roosevelt’s other quote that resonates with me: “Do one thing every day that scares you.” So tell your insecurities to piss off for a while and make it your day, your week, your month, your year. And maybe enjoy a shave ice while you do it.