The Incentive

Well, it’s official. I can no longer pretend to be in my early-mid twenties. I’ve entered the “Late Twenties Zone.” My boobs have dipped further south, my feet hurt, I got my first cavity, and people have started saying things like, “This is a good age to have babies.” Oy! And apparently I’ve become Jewish. Yet somehow, in the past 6 days, I feel as if I’ve become wiser. I’m getting wrinkles between my eyebrows which make me look like a distinguished thinker, and I actually folded my laundry yesterday instead of picking pieces out of the dryer on an as-needed basis. You see that? Growth. Maybe 27 will be a good year after all.

You know what I have learned this week? It’s not as easy as I thought it would be to dive back into my healthy routine after my vacation to Calorie Land. The multi-grain cereals and steamed veggies just weren’t really cutting it for me this week. I refer to this past week as my, um, “transitional week.” It wasn’t as bad as the week before, but I wouldn’t exactly brag about it either. I didn’t undo any of the previous week’s damage, but stayed the same. Did I mention I gained a pound and a half back the week before this one? Yikes! So now I’m back down to an eleven pound loss, which is a little disappointing. But I’m not going to get my knickers in a twist! (Apparently I’m now Jewish and from England). Last night I had a good pep talk with myself (I find I can be very motivational) and I made a game plan for this week. No messing around. It’s time to go big or go home. I have 3.9 pounds to lose to reach my 15 pound goal, and I’m going to do my damndest to make sure it happens by next Tuesday.

Why Tuesday, you ask? Good question. I’ve had a hair appointment booked for a while and it so happens to fall on next Tuesday. I’m going for a new look. I’m chopping off a couple inches, going for the swoop bangs, dying it darker; the whole shebang. So I thought to myself, what if I could make this an entire day of transformation: get my new clothes, a pedicure, and wax these caterpillars I call eyebrows! It would be like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman without the hooker thing. Only problem is, I told myself no new clothes until I hit the 15 pound mark. Cue motivation. If the girls on the Biggest Loser can lose 15 pounds a week, I can lose 3.9! They might have the advantage of personal trainers and a calculated meal plan, but I have the incentive of a makeover.* Moving right along, I’ve created an intense workout plan for myself this week and am also following Weight Watchers to the letter! There will be no extra points consumed by this lady this week! Even though as I’m writing this all I can think about is one of those mini deserts from Starbucks, I’m resisting. Because after all, I’ve hit my point limit for the day, and I don’t need to spend $1.50 on a three bite treat. Damn you Starbucks and your delectable, miniature morsels!

So that’s the plan and I’m sticking to it. And in the spirit of my 27th year on earth, I decided there were other things I wanted to do as well. I am now taking Spanish lessons because it’s something I’ve always wanted to learn, and I’m trying to branch out more and try new things. I just found a teahouse in Portland that I’m gaga over, and I’m reading a book about French cooking. Look at this girl, broadening her horizons! So wish me luck this week, because this one’s for all the superficial marbles. Hasta luego!


*And on a side note, the Biggest Loser trainer Jillian Michaels gets a lot of flak for being a bitch. But I’d like to say in her defense that she’s the bitch who cares. And she gets results! If you’ve ever tried her 30 Day Shred you know what I’m talking about.

The Surrender

There are some weeks you know you’ve been set up to fail; weeks that are so full of obstacles, you know you can’t avoid the landmines. This was one of those weeks. Even last week as I was writing my triumphant blog, I knew that this week I was going to beef up like a high school wrestling team. And what obstacles, you might ask yourself, was I facing this week? Well let’s just see. St. Patrick’s Day? Yep. Anniversary? Check. Girls night? You betcha. Two birthday celebrations for yours truly? Why, yes indeed. And what do all these events have in common? If you guessed food and liquor, ding ding ding! Step right up and receive the grand prize! And what do we have for them, Johnny? More junk in Emily’s trunk and some extra cushion for the pushin’.

So this was a week full of Thai food, cupcakes, and booze. (Oh my!) Now, at the start of this week, I realized I had two choices. First, I could be sensible and keep track of my Weight Watcher points and indulge the tiniest bit on a couple of occasions. Second, I could abandon Weight Watchers completely, enjoy the hell out of it, and tell moderation to piss off for a week or so. I chose the latter. I won’t lie to you; the scale wasn’t very pretty come Monday morning, but I guarantee you I enjoyed every freaking second. I drank too much beer on St. Patrick’s Day, I feasted on Thai food not once, but twice this week, and I ate the crap out of my birthday cupcakes. I don’t even feel guilty about it. My philosophy is everything in moderation, including moderation. Sometimes, you just need to dive into those landmines and realize that sensibility can go on hiatus for seven days. I squeezed a couple of workouts in this week, but not enough to offset the damage. And I’m OK with that. To be honest, this week of indulgence was just that: a week of indulgence. I used to eat like this all the time, and funnily enough, it’s actually quite nice to get back to my healthy routine. But I tell you, if I couldn’t take a vacation from it every once in a while, I think I’d be a mad, raving bitch. (No comments from the peanut gallery!)

My intention was to start the week off truly right, with a hardcore workout, but instead, I’ve been moping around and whining to anyone who will listen about the pain of my very first cavity. Today, March 21, 2011 marks the day of my very first filling. I made it almost 27 years without a cavity, but my streak ended today in a blaze of tears and drool. The only perk was the laughing gas (which might have even been better than all the liquor I consumed this week) and the speech impediment I had for the couple hours afterward. But when the Novocain wore off and I could pronounce my R’s again, the pain sunk in and it’s been hurting ever freaking since! I’ve deemed myself too physically and emotionally distraught, so I’m going to lie on the couch and whine while eating soft, room temperature foods. Shut up, it hurts. But bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, I’ll be sweating with the best of ‘em. So happy spring everyone (not that you could tell in stupid Washington) and have a fantastic week!

Got Jesus on My Neck-o-lace-ace-ace

So it’s been a pretty rockin’ week! I’m down 2.3 pounds, bringing up the total to almost 13 big ones. I’m feeling pretty damn proud of myself! Slow and steady wins the race, and I’m just happy that I’m still on the course. I’ve attempted some weight loss stints before, but after a month or two, I tend to veer off track and get distracted by something shiny. But look at me, sticking it out and being awesome. I made it to the gym five times this week: a circuit class, a spin class, TWO Zumba classes, and a walk/jog on the treadmill. I actually jogged a total of 9 minutes out of 30 – this may be no big deal to some of you, but in the past, I would have sacrificed a small puppy if it got me out of running. I hate running. I hate it more than when people mix up the words good and well, and if you know me at all, you know bad grammar makes me want to stab someone. There’s something truly evil about running; in the past, I used to get winded after about 30 seconds. This is not one of those exaggerated statements like when people say, “I ate a million cupcakes.” No joke, after 30 seconds of running I’d usually be keeled over and ready to pass out. So when I got off that treadmill last night, huffing and puffing, beat red and loaded with pit stains, it was the proudest I’ve been of myself in a long time.

I wish I could take all the credit for my awesome week, but there was a greater force at work, and her name is Kesha. I know she spells her name with a fucking dollar sign in the middle, but that’s dumb and I won’t do it. I have a love/hate relationship with this pop star – mostly, I love her stupid songs and I hate myself because of it. It’s true that she’s trashy and looks like she needs a shower ALL THE TIME, but I defy anyone not to shake their groove thing when “Tik Tok” comes on the radio. I’ve had her music on repeat all week and I find myself dancing in the car, when I’m washing the dishes, and in between classes. I can’t stop. When I’m listening to her music, I want to work out faster and harder. There’s something about her that just fills me with energy (and self loathing), but mostly the energy thing. So I’d like to tribute these 2.3 pounds to Kesha and the rest of the artists on my new playlist. I’m going to let you in on my workout playlist, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t rock your world like it did mine. I’m pretty sure that if everyone had this playlist, the diet industry would be obsolete. It’s that good.

Emily’s Rockin’ Playlist of Awesomeness

1.Kesha – Tik Tok
2.Cee Lo Green – Fuck You (There’s a more PG version if you’re offended by the
word 'fuck')
3.System of a Down – Toxicity
4.Michael Jackson – Beat It
5.Queen – Fat Bottom Girls
6.Rihanna – Please don’t stop the Music
7.Incubus – Anna Molly
8.Kesha – We are who we are
9.Foo Fighters – Best of You
10.Billy Joel – Uptown Girl
11.Guns N’ Roses – Sweet Child O’ Mine
12.Usher – Caught Up
13.Wicked Soundtrack – Defying Gravity (don’t knock it; musicals are awesome)
14.Akon – Smack That (this one’s for you, Meg)
15.Beach Boys – Wouldn’t it be Nice

So that’s my brainchild of a playlist. If you have a better one, (good luck), I’d love to get suggestions. That’s all I’ve got for you today, so have a splendid week and go shake what your mama gave you!

* On a random and unrelated note, if you want a reference for some fantastic recipes and reviews, check out my friend Julie’s blog: www.subtleseasonings.com

Now That's What I'm Talkin' About!

3.1 pounds this week…you know what that means!!!! I’m going to be rockin’ my new Jessica Simpson ghetto fabulous necklace as soon as I can get my booty to the mall! I live just up the street from the mall, but if I drag my sorry behind to Portland I don’t have to pay sales tax! But then I probably just spent all the money I saved on gas money, so that’s a conundrum for another day. It was a good week this week! I’m actually starting to look forward to exercising, go figure. What used to be the bane of my existence is now moderately addicting…I did not see that coming.

This week, I revisited good old Cardioke (I haven’t gotten any better at that whatsoever) and I also tried Zumba for the first time! It rocked my world and shook my ass from side to side. Zumba is complicated though…so many steps, so mine was more like interpretive/freestyle Zumba. Either way, I sweat up a storm. Luckily for me, most of the people in the class were having just as much trouble as I was following the moves, except for this one slut in a pink pantsuit. She had it down perfectly, and not in the humble-I-just-really-love-to-zumba way. She was rockin’ in perfect rhythm with this superior-I-can-Zumba-better-than-you-without-even-trying look on her face. If our instructor isn’t kicking that high, why are you!?!? When I relayed this information to Barrett, he did not empathize and lectured me about how I shouldn’t rank on other people for trying to get the most out of their workouts. He might have a point. But if people look good while working out, I maintain I have the right to call them dumb sluts.

Moving right along, it’s a good thing I did lose some weight this week because I had started to go into panic mode after stagnant scale last week. I was furiously searching Google for reasons as to why I hadn’t lost and what kinds of diseases prevented people from losing weight. I had convinced myself that I had thyroid disease and a special fat retaining disorder. I had concluded that if I didn’t lose any weight this week, I was going to have to come up with more drastic measures to lose weight. These are the top five I came up with:
1. Fill up my gas tank and then have to starve because I have no leftover money for
food
2.Cut off my own leg
3.Parasitic intestinal worms
4.Picture my grandparents doing the dirty every time I eat and therefore lose all
will to eat and live
5.Poor man’s liposuction: make an incision in my belly button, insert a vacuum hose
and just go to town

So luckily for me, the week went well and all my limbs are intact. But there’s a lot of pressure to lose weight this month. The month of March is my last “month of freedom” if you will. One of the perks of being a substitute teacher, aside from the AMAZING salary, is that you don’t have to work if you don’t want to. Or you can choose to work half days. And there are no papers to grade. And if kids are assholes, you don’t ever have to see them again. Life is pretty stress free. Oh, and I just want to make sure you knew I was kidding about the salary thing; the poverty line would be a step up for me. But next month, I’m trading in my substitute shoes for my long term substitute shoes.

I’m taking over English classes at the high school for a couple of months while a teacher goes on paternity leave. So this is my last month with some free time on my hands to keep regular workouts without worrying about lessons to plan and tests to grade. But more importantly, high school kids are brutal, and I don’t need my double chin to give them anymore ammunition. In the words of Will.I.am, “I’ve got to move it, move it.” On the agenda for this week: circuit class, spinning class, Zumba, and more awesomeness from Exercise on Demand! The sooner I get to my 15 pound mark, the sooner I can buy a couple new outfits! And thank God, because these $5 Old Navy t-shirts have seen better days. That’s all for now; be sure to tune in next week!

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!).