Monthly Archives: September 2007

Dear goddess did I work my ass off at Curves tonight. I want to say “the gym,” but honestly… no matter how hard I’m working out and how much I ache right now, it doesn’t escape me that my work out partner this evening was a 70 year-old granny in Birkies lamenting over “kids today that shuffle their feet and get their toes caught in escalators.”

???

And she’s one of the young ones.

Yep, Curves? It’s a little less a gym and more – oh, I don’t know… geriatric social club with some walking in place thrown in.

Seriously, I’ve been to a few different Curves in my time and never have I seen one as lethargic as this. They post monthly weight and inches lost on one wall and I have yet to see but two folks in the double digits for pounds lost… in a year. I decided tonight that I am going to blow these ladies out of the water – lose double digits in my first month! Triple by one year!

I will be the Queen of the Lethargic Geriatric Social club, just you wait!

It’s good to have goals.

This morning was weigh-in. 280.2 bitches! That’s 3.8 pounds lost last week. Boo-yah!

Now go back and read the real post.

Decreasing the Mass of my Ass – a week in a review
My first full week of decreasing the mass of my ass was quite successful. I stepped on the scale this morning and it read 281.4. That’s a little over 2.5 lbs. lost for the week and 15.3 down from my heaviest.

I used 11 out of my 35 extra weekly points – mainly due to eating out for lunch three days. I could have easily used all 35 had I eaten what I normally did, but I’m already making smarter choices. Instead of butter chicken and fried pakora at the Indian buffet, I ate tandoori chicken breast and about a third of my normal portion of rice. And no naan either. And I decided to forgo the yummy corned beef at Eph McNallys, opting for a veggie sandwhich with vinegrette slaw (instead of creamy) and honey mustard on the side. I also went to Curves four days and walked Cain extra long most nights.

Go me. If I can continue on this slow, but steady, pace, I’ll reach my goal weight by this time next year. What the heck… I’ve lived 37 years overweight – another one won’t kill me.

Goal for next week: Eat no more than 10 of my extra weekly points and increase my activity points from 19 to 20. Little victories…

Steph and Leslie
One of my best friends from Texas, Steph, was in town for the weekend. Her girlfriend (who is from Michigan but also now lives in Texas) was in a wedding – so they flew in Friday afternoon. They drove down to Detroit and had lunch with me before heading off to Leslie’s (the girlfriend’s) family’s home. I have to say, of all my friends, Leslie is one of my favorite “spouses.” Her and Steph have talked repeatedly about moving to Canada so they can legally marry. I certainly wish they would – they would be so much closer.

Spider Pig
Cain, as most male dogs are, is a leg lifter when he pees. He tries to get as close to whatever it is he is peeing on as possible. Lately, when it’s a large tree he is peeing on, he tries to get both back legs up on the tree when he pees. These acrobatics started about a week ago. Sometimes he ends up doing a handstand (or front paw stand, if you will) when he’s peeing or, as was the case tonight, he twists his hind legs at a 45 degree angle and tries to lift them both onto the tree. It’s the funniest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I find myself giggling and humming Spider Pig to myself almost nightly on our walks.

Cancun
The countdown is on… 30 days until Cancun! I can hardly wait… if for no other reason than being able to touch my husband again. Cain was apparently hand-raised by a sixth grade school dance chaperone. Any time Bryan and I get anywhere near each other, Cain runs right in between the two of us. And god forbid we try to hug or kiss. We’ve taken to throwing one of Cain’s toys down a flight of stairs (just to make him leave the room) and then sneaking kisses.

The Love Hateful Birds
Well, our gaggle of winged beasties diminished greatly last week. Since moving in to the new home the Lovebirds have been living on the porch. As it started to dip into the 40′s and 50′s overnight, it’s become apparent that their time on the porch is limited. Unfortunately there was just no good place for the Lovebirds to live indoors. I put them in the office with Petey, but it’s just too damn dark in here… not to mention too damn loud with five birds in one little 8 x 12 room. Petey leaves the cage and travels to other parts of the house, but the Lovebirds are cage-bound.

Through a friend of a friend, we found a woman that lives just down the street from Aleah that wanted the Lovebirds… even after finding out how hateful they really are. Bryan took them over last Wednesday and checked out their new digs. They are in a big room with an African Grey and lots of windows. The woman also has quite a few parakeets (in another room) and chihuhas galore. It’s quite a bit quieter around here without them, but I can’t say I really miss them. And I have no romantic notions that they miss me either. I’m only a tad sad because Pigeon was the first pet Bryan and I ever got together…

Well, that’s the past few days in a nutshell. Busy week ahead – lots of work to do at, well… work. Curves at least Monday, Wednesday and Friday night. Tuesday I’m out for sushi with Kat and Thursday I have a hair cut. I think I’m going for something new. I’m thinking this cut:

And these colors:

What do you think?

Laura (Bryan’s ex-wife) and I went to Aleah’s open house at school last night. “Look,” I said to Aleah as I signed in on sheet after sheet after Laura. “It’s Aleah and her two moms. We’re so progressive.” I wonder how many of Aleah’s new teachers now think she is being raised by a lesbian couple.

In many of the classrooms Laura and I made up the majority of the parents. There were never more than five of us in any room. It shocks me. I don’t recall my parents (well, my mom at least) ever missing a school open house or teacher conferences or any of that jazz.

At least they still manage to hike out for the football games.

Decreasing the mass of my ass update

I hide two things well… my real age and my real weight. People usually have a hard time believing me when I tell them I am 37 and just about anyone I know would have a hard time believing me when I tell them that I stepped on the scale two weeks ago and it read 297.

Yeah, you read that right. Three pounds shy of 300 pounds. I freaked right the fuck out. And I’m freaking out again as I type because I have never, ever, told my true weight to anyone but the lady at the gym who weighs me, medical professionals and my husband. But I’m owning up to it because I am determined to do something about it.

So, second week into the Decrease the Mass of my Ass 2007 and I am happy to report that I am down 13 pounds. I’m still excited about working out and I’m not minding Weight Watchers at all. My hardest struggle with Weight Watchers so far has been struggling with how I manage my needs and Bryan’s appetite. I eat 1/4 of a box of soup – he eats the other 3/4 in one sitting. I eat two waffles out of a box and two tablespoons of syrup – he eats the other four waffles and half a bottle of syrup all at once. I don’t have time to practice portion control – he’s making sure I have no choice.  And I’m feeling resentful. I need to come up with a better plan to manage both of our food needs before this becomes a real bone of contention.

I had a dream last night that I was staying with a family in a house that was known to be haunted by a ghost. While the family slept the ghost did things like throw cans of food around the house and wrap the family members’ wrists and necks with gauze, choking them. I was supposed to spend the night with the family, but opted to sleep in a house next door – thinking myself safe.

I woke up (in my dream) in the middle of the night to someone screaming. I tried to jump out of bed, but was paralyzed. I kept trying to scream “Stop!” but the words wouldn’t form. I was trying so hard to scream or move, but no matter how hard I struggled it wasn’t happening. I kept willing myself to wake up.

Finally Bryan woke me up because I was crying out in my sleep so loudly that it woke him up.

I tried to go back to sleep but when I looked at the clock it was 3:00 a.m. and I was completely freaked out that things were about to get all “Emily Rose” up in my bedroom.

Honestly… I know six year olds that are braver than I am.

I really should never, ever, ever - under any circumstances – be allowed to watch horror films. For christ’s sake, I saw The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane over thirty years ago and I still cannot go down into a cellar without getting freaked out.

I finally asleep in the den around 5 a.m. with the TV on and Cain sleeping on my feet. We don’t normally let Cain sleep on the den furniture, but I made an exception last night. Everyone knows a Bulldogge a day keeps the boogeyman away.

Go to careercruising.com
Put in Username: nycareers, Password: landmark.
Take their “Career Matchmaker” questions.
Post the top ten results

1. Office Manager
2. Set Designer
3. Director
4. Costume Designer
5. Probation / Parole Officer
6. Addictions Counselor
7. Foreign Service Officer
8. Association Manager
9. Clergy
10. Health Care Administrator

So very not sexy, but true. Office management was always my favorite job of all jobs. I should just bite the bullet and go start a Masters program in nonprofit management.

In other news, Day Two of Decreasing the Mass of my Ass 2007 was moderately successful:

• Breakfast: coffee, apple, half of Kashi bar
• Lunch: Indian buffet – but at least I didn’t eat any of the fried stuff and I did actually limit my portions even though I was stuffed by the end
• Workout: kicked my ever-loving ass
• Dinner: Chicken breast on lettuce with salsa

So very much going on – so little energy to tell the tale. I’m so tired. Always, always tired.

A big part of the energy problem is my weight. I’ve always been overweight – always. At my skinniest I weighed 170-some pounds. And that was only because my brother died and the weight fell off like it had never been attached.

At 170-something, I was a size 12. That felt good… to shop in “normal” stores, but it didn’t last long. Within a year I had put on just about everything I had ever lost, plus some. And then I stayed there for a long, long time. But in the past few years my weight has been steadily climbing and climbing.

I’m always conscious of it and I don’t like it, but I’ve never been one of those people that felt bad (physically) because they were large. Until recently, that is. Lately I’m tiring easier, my knees ache here and there and I get winded way too easily.

I’ve been contemplating what to do about it. For some reason Weight Watchers has been coming to mind. I don’t know why – I’ve never tried it. But I’ve heard great stories. Lo’ and behold, a coupon for 25% off a three month membership showed up in my email. So, Weight Watchers it is.

Then there’s the exercise thing. I walk Cain a few times a day, but the more tired I am – the shorter the walks. And, as we all know, I’ve been plenty tired lately. I have a Y membership, but I never use it. I’m intimated by the gym. I’ve been thinking about rejoining Curves because it worked for me (when I went) and it’s not the least bit intimidating to me.

Out of the blue a co-worker called me on Tuesday and asked if I’d join Curves with her.

Besides the fact that I’m freakin’ a bit because it’s gettin’ to be a bit Truman Show up in this mug, I was thrilled and agreed to join Curves with her right away. Turns out that our schedules vary too much to go to the same branch, but I went ahead and re-joined tonight by myself anyway. My first work out is tomorrow.

Today I ate like a reasonable person. Apple and coffee for breakfast (I usually don’t eat breakfast at all), half a greek salad for lunch (had lamb on it which, admittedly, isn’t the healthiest, but I only used about a fourth of the dressing that came with it) and two sweet potato burritos, minus the cheese for dinner along with an apple and one Kashi bar. I drank more water than normal. Not the recommended 64 ounces, mind you, but I peed fifty times just drinking the 32 ounce bottle I did.

So, all in all, a good start to day one of a six week full court press.

Why six weeks? Well, one reason is that it takes six weeks to form a new habit. Second reason is that Bryan and I will be leaving for Cancun in six weeks! I’m finally going to get to use the passport that I’ve been carrying around for the last eight months. We had planned on going to Costa Rica in October, but gave quite a bit of our vacation funds to Bryan’s sister to help her out while she goes through her divorce.

So, Costa Rica will have to wait a year. In the meantime, we booked a week at an all inclusive resort that includes airfare, transportation to and from the hotel, hotel room and all food and drinks for $500 per person. Though I’ve never been one that longs for resort-type locales, you can’t beat the price.

This is the area we’ll be staying in and this is the actual hotel.

So, throw in tons of work, that’s the last few days in a nutshell. A nice, healthy, Cancun-going, nutshell.

Played project manager for one of the highest profile events of the year while the Boss Lady went on honeymoon? Check.

Worked 10 -12 hours days last week whilst doing so? Check.

Fended off various vice presidents for almost two weeks who suddenly wanted to try and get away with whatever they could while Boss Lady was on vacation? Check.

Did laundry, grocery shopped for 4, packed for myself and the dog and headed up north for a four-day weekend of debauchery in the woods? Check.

Drank silly amounts of alcohol during the second annual total debauchery four-day weekend in the woods? Check.

Camped next door to a gaggle of folks from some Slavic country that cooked 80 pounds of sausage over the campfire in four days? Check. (Seriously, those were some sausage-cooking mother fuckers. I’m not exaggerating the 80 pounds thing.)

Discovered upon entering the shower on my first morning in the woods that I had forgotten to pack my shampoo, face wash, moisturizer, shower gel, hair products and saline solution and resolved myself to washing my hair, face and entire body with “feminine wash?” Check. (Explain to me how one manages to pack “feminine” wash, but not shampoo, face wash, moisturizer, shower gel, hair products or saline solution?!)

Moisturized my face with Panama Jack after-sun lotion all weekend? Check.

Broke out like a teenager upon returning home? Check.

Aching already for the third annual total debauchery four-day weekend in the woods? Check.

Came back to work to more 10 -12 hour days to continue planning above-mentioned high profile event whilst putting together website for another nonprofit, kicking off registration for a second 8,000 person event, setting up a video studio for speech trainees, continuing my work on diversity council and meeting with two other departments who now want new websites… all while still trying to manage my normal day-to-day duties? Check.

Got Sandie to the airport and off to England? Check.

Officially became the step-parent of a high schooler? Check.

Officially became the step-parent of a teenage daughter that is currently suffering her first heart break? Check. (He tried to pay someone to tell her he was breaking up with her. Would it be wrong of me to message him on MySpace and tell him to grow a pair?)

Worked until 8 p.m. on Tuesday and shopped at Target on the way home to gather all those things my father will notice my house should have if it didn’t? Check.

Worked until 7 p.m. on Thursday and then came home and cleaned for five hours? Check.

Went to bed at midnight last night, got up at 4:15 a.m. this morning and made way to work by 5:45 a.m. for above-mentioned high profile event which, incidentally, was held outside in the pouring rain? Check.

Worked for 12 hours today then came home and cleaned for six? Check.

Wondered desperately why I have such an insatiable need to blog about all this crap when I’ve now been awake for 21 hours and my father is going to be here in less than eight hours and I really, really need to get some sleep? Check.