As you may already have read I am a member at Curves (thanks, Mom). I'd like to take this opportunity to discuss my experiences there. A bit of background information for those who may not know much about it: Curves is an all-women workout facility which offers strength / resistance training. Machines are set up in a circle and there are recovery stations in between each machine. You're on the machines/recovery stations for 30 seconds each, and you make approximately 2 - 3 rounds.
I always dread going to Curves, but I end up thanking myself that I made the significant effort it took to not continue driving in the direction of home. It only takes 30 minutes of your day. A drop in the bucket, right?
There are women of all sizes and ages at this place, which makes it a very comfortable environment for those of us who would rather not stand next to thong-clad chippies at Bally's. Sometimes, though, the last thing I want is to be around a bunch of Chatty Kathys and I have to really focus my eyes on the wall to send out the "back off -- I don't want to talk" vibe. Plus, when I talk I end up gasping for air. Best to focus on the task at hand.
I belonged to one Curves in my town and got used to it, liked the staff, the location, etc. Then their lease ended and they closed their branch. A lot of us transferred our memberships to another location...and I didn't go for six months (I don't like change, at least not this kind). Meanwhile, my new Curves moved to another brand new building. When I finally went I was really upset with myself that I had procrastinated for so long. I saw all the same people and even some of the same staff. This location is 100% better. They have their own bathrooms and have temperature control over said bathrooms. They have cubbies for your belongings. They put powders and body sprays on the counters for us to de-stinkify ourselves. And there are hula hoops in the center of the machines so you can work on your hip swiveling in public!
It really is a great thing, Curves, because even just going 3x a week for two weeks one can notice a difference in the way their clothes fit. You lose a lot of inches first, then the weight starts coming off (not quickly enough for my liking, though). More people are commenting on my weight loss, which leads me into this danger zone where I stop exercising and start eating absolute crap, which is what has happened over the last few weeks, so I've got to somehow train my brain that any time it hears something positive about the weight loss it should automatically say that I need another workout. Not the easiest thing to do, is it?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Water
I don't know about you folks, but I have a hard time keeping up with drinking water on a daily basis. I hate drinking water. I know it doesn't taste like anything, but perhaps that's why I hate it -- no gratification. I also have a "thing" about public restrooms, to which the old agua has a habit of sending me about 15 times a day.
Crystal Light has those little packets to flavor a 20 ounce bottle of water and they're terrific. However, I don't count that toward my water intake for the day because of the artificial sweetener. Alright, sometimes I do, but not often.
I'm doing my part for the environment by using one plastic bottle over and over again. I'm not going to buy a case a week. I just fill up with the company Crystal Rock all day and get my daily intake there. You have to be careful with those plastic bottles though because I sniffed one that I had been using for a while and almost gagged. Something went rotten in that bad boy. I don't touch my mouth to any cans or bottles when I drink from them (and I've got the stains on many a shirt-neck to prove it), so I'm not sure what happened. Apparently there's a to-do lately about supposed toxins being emitted when plastic bottles start to break down, but I'm not sure that a breakdown was possible in the short amount of time I was using that particular bottle. Anyway...
I forgot my big water bottle today, so I had to rely on walking to the cooler several times and drinking eight paper cups of water. For some reason, the eight cups are really hard to get down compared to two bottles. Honestly, the things your mind can psych you out of!
At home I drink seltzer. I don't have a problem drinking that 33 oz. of seltzer after already having my RDA of regular water during the day. Polar makes some great seltzer: I like pomegranate and vanilla the best. Vanilla smells exactly, and I mean exactly, like cream soda, but once you get it in your mouth it tastes like cream soda with no sugar in it. And it's good. Surprisingly so.
Does anyone else have a problem choking down their daily water?
Crystal Light has those little packets to flavor a 20 ounce bottle of water and they're terrific. However, I don't count that toward my water intake for the day because of the artificial sweetener. Alright, sometimes I do, but not often.
I'm doing my part for the environment by using one plastic bottle over and over again. I'm not going to buy a case a week. I just fill up with the company Crystal Rock all day and get my daily intake there. You have to be careful with those plastic bottles though because I sniffed one that I had been using for a while and almost gagged. Something went rotten in that bad boy. I don't touch my mouth to any cans or bottles when I drink from them (and I've got the stains on many a shirt-neck to prove it), so I'm not sure what happened. Apparently there's a to-do lately about supposed toxins being emitted when plastic bottles start to break down, but I'm not sure that a breakdown was possible in the short amount of time I was using that particular bottle. Anyway...
I forgot my big water bottle today, so I had to rely on walking to the cooler several times and drinking eight paper cups of water. For some reason, the eight cups are really hard to get down compared to two bottles. Honestly, the things your mind can psych you out of!
At home I drink seltzer. I don't have a problem drinking that 33 oz. of seltzer after already having my RDA of regular water during the day. Polar makes some great seltzer: I like pomegranate and vanilla the best. Vanilla smells exactly, and I mean exactly, like cream soda, but once you get it in your mouth it tastes like cream soda with no sugar in it. And it's good. Surprisingly so.
Does anyone else have a problem choking down their daily water?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Staples
I think I'll make this an ongoing part of my blog. Since I stopped buying chips, birthday cake, doughnuts and extra large coffees with extra cream and extra sugar I had to find other things to put in my body that were more acceptable. I'm not following any diet plan(s). I'm just going with my gut and my smarts. I've done plans before only to be lost when I stopped them, so I figure that the best way for me to make changes would be to make them on my own. So my "Staples" posts will be lists of foods I find to be incredibly satisfying and palatable yet go hand in hand with the way I envision my future eating, which is, for the most part, healthy.
I'm fortunate in that I love healthy foods and vegetables just as much as I love the unhealthy crap. It's really all about the chemical reaction in my brain when my taste buds fall in love with something. Here are some things my taste buds are currently in love with:
Hummus
I lived in the Middle East for four years in the early '80's where I was exposed to hummus. I loved it then and I love it now. Where we lived in Yemen there was a small restaurant up the road from our apartment complex and they served hummus on a plate with paprika sprinkled over it, a small depression in the middle for hot sauce and a side of shami bread (sort of like naan). I was thrilled when I found hummus hitting the shelves in the supermarkets here in the States. I've tasted almost every brand available to me in the Northeast and I've settled on Joseph's original hummus tahini as the most similar to the hummus I ate in Yemen. All their flavors rock, with the exception of spinach and artichoke (some things are better left to a hot appetizer loaded with Parmesan cheese). Today I eat hummus with celery or baby carrots and I'm always surpised by it's nutritional values when I enter it into my FitDay food journal. It's also pretty good on a decent whole grain cracker.
Tzatziki
When my parents were stationed in Yemen I went to boarding school in Cyprus (in Nicosia on the Greek side of the island). The chefs in our kitchen were all Cypriot, so it was surprising that one of the favorite dishes that they served was schnitzel. Schnitzel is delicious in itself, but the clever, clever Cypriot chefs paired it with tzatziki, a garlicky cucumber and yogurt sauce. I've got two Mediterranean restaurants within five miles of my house and they both have excellent tzatziki, but who wants to spend a zillion dollars just for a sauce? Earlier this week while I was perusing the hummus section at the supermarket I spied a container of tzatziki made by none other than the aforementioned Joseph's! Needless to say I snatched up the container and when I opened it and tried it...Heaven. Nirvana. As an afterthought I looked at the nutritional values and was suprised to find that it was more than fairly decent for me. Their version is made with sour cream, but I couldn't detect a difference.
Cheese
I love cheese. Can't give it up for anything. Chocolate I can give up. Cheese -- no freakin' way. Stop & Shop offers a block of white cheddar at 50% and 75% less fat. The 50% is wonderful. 75% not so much. I don't know how far away Cabot cheese can be found, but if you "hanker for a hunk of cheese" I highly recommend their 50% white cheddar. Since I linked to that video I now realize that I have 70's era ABC Saturday morning cartoons to blame for my cheese fetish. I also blame them for forcing me to buy the "Schoolhouse Rock! Rocks" CD. OK, so I admit it...the CD is freakin' awesome! /lameness
I'm fortunate in that I love healthy foods and vegetables just as much as I love the unhealthy crap. It's really all about the chemical reaction in my brain when my taste buds fall in love with something. Here are some things my taste buds are currently in love with:
Hummus
I lived in the Middle East for four years in the early '80's where I was exposed to hummus. I loved it then and I love it now. Where we lived in Yemen there was a small restaurant up the road from our apartment complex and they served hummus on a plate with paprika sprinkled over it, a small depression in the middle for hot sauce and a side of shami bread (sort of like naan). I was thrilled when I found hummus hitting the shelves in the supermarkets here in the States. I've tasted almost every brand available to me in the Northeast and I've settled on Joseph's original hummus tahini as the most similar to the hummus I ate in Yemen. All their flavors rock, with the exception of spinach and artichoke (some things are better left to a hot appetizer loaded with Parmesan cheese). Today I eat hummus with celery or baby carrots and I'm always surpised by it's nutritional values when I enter it into my FitDay food journal. It's also pretty good on a decent whole grain cracker.
Tzatziki
When my parents were stationed in Yemen I went to boarding school in Cyprus (in Nicosia on the Greek side of the island). The chefs in our kitchen were all Cypriot, so it was surprising that one of the favorite dishes that they served was schnitzel. Schnitzel is delicious in itself, but the clever, clever Cypriot chefs paired it with tzatziki, a garlicky cucumber and yogurt sauce. I've got two Mediterranean restaurants within five miles of my house and they both have excellent tzatziki, but who wants to spend a zillion dollars just for a sauce? Earlier this week while I was perusing the hummus section at the supermarket I spied a container of tzatziki made by none other than the aforementioned Joseph's! Needless to say I snatched up the container and when I opened it and tried it...Heaven. Nirvana. As an afterthought I looked at the nutritional values and was suprised to find that it was more than fairly decent for me. Their version is made with sour cream, but I couldn't detect a difference.
Cheese
I love cheese. Can't give it up for anything. Chocolate I can give up. Cheese -- no freakin' way. Stop & Shop offers a block of white cheddar at 50% and 75% less fat. The 50% is wonderful. 75% not so much. I don't know how far away Cabot cheese can be found, but if you "hanker for a hunk of cheese" I highly recommend their 50% white cheddar. Since I linked to that video I now realize that I have 70's era ABC Saturday morning cartoons to blame for my cheese fetish. I also blame them for forcing me to buy the "Schoolhouse Rock! Rocks" CD. OK, so I admit it...the CD is freakin' awesome! /lameness
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The Elusive Endorphins
I just don't get these exercise nuts. All this talk about how running gives them a high. High Schmigh. I've been convinced that any high I ever felt from running came from being lightheaded when I started pre-hyperventilation after numerous unsuccesful attempts to, well, breathe.
Maybe there will come a day when the endorphin rush washes over me and I will understand. I want that day to happen. I want to like exercising. I want to put on my sneakers and tell everyone I'm going to get high and won't be back for an hour or so. I want to engage in the psychosis that propels me to exercise when it's 97 degrees and 97% humidity or 10 degrees and snowing outside.
Despite the fact that my mouth labels these people as nuts ("N-V-T-S nuts!" --Mel Brooks) my mind is really extremely envious. Did these people join a track team in high school? Did their parents run? Did they have influences in their lives that I might not have had? Perhaps. Now here they are influencing me without even knowing it. I now run in place on all the recovery stations at Curves. And a few weeks ago during my walk I made myself run in short bursts on four separate occasions. I felt a bit of a rush, even though I was gasping mightily, my knees kind of hurt, my quads burned for three days and my feet were absolutely trashed. Was that endorphins or was it just pride and disbelief? I might run again someday, if I remember to go out and get some actual running shoes, just to test the feeling I had. Or perhaps I have uncovered a new theory: Endorphins are just the by-products of pride bubbles rising to the surface and bursting.
I'd love to hear from anyone out there who started running when they were big gals. What made you start? What were you feeling at the time? How did you have the guts to continue? Endorphins...true?
Maybe there will come a day when the endorphin rush washes over me and I will understand. I want that day to happen. I want to like exercising. I want to put on my sneakers and tell everyone I'm going to get high and won't be back for an hour or so. I want to engage in the psychosis that propels me to exercise when it's 97 degrees and 97% humidity or 10 degrees and snowing outside.
Despite the fact that my mouth labels these people as nuts ("N-V-T-S nuts!" --Mel Brooks) my mind is really extremely envious. Did these people join a track team in high school? Did their parents run? Did they have influences in their lives that I might not have had? Perhaps. Now here they are influencing me without even knowing it. I now run in place on all the recovery stations at Curves. And a few weeks ago during my walk I made myself run in short bursts on four separate occasions. I felt a bit of a rush, even though I was gasping mightily, my knees kind of hurt, my quads burned for three days and my feet were absolutely trashed. Was that endorphins or was it just pride and disbelief? I might run again someday, if I remember to go out and get some actual running shoes, just to test the feeling I had. Or perhaps I have uncovered a new theory: Endorphins are just the by-products of pride bubbles rising to the surface and bursting.
I'd love to hear from anyone out there who started running when they were big gals. What made you start? What were you feeling at the time? How did you have the guts to continue? Endorphins...true?
My Stats
Forgive me for not posting my stats right away. I'm a bit shy at the moment. The other ladies who inspired me to start this blog have posted everything -- pictures, BMI, weight charts. I'm just not at all ready to share that stuff with the world. It comes from shame, and I know that once I feel less of it I'll post stuff willy-nilly. However, I will endeavor to let anyone who's out there reading know if I go down a dress size or a few pounds. Plus, my husband may read this and Jeebus knows that I don't want him to know how much I weigh!!!!
Gotta Love Moms
I went to boarding school overseas for my formidable high school years which prepared me well for independence. As a result I purposefully live far away from all family members to ensure as little interference as possible. But now there's that pesky telephone and the internets.
Anyway, several years ago (more like ten) my mother drove up to visit me. When I say visit me I mean visit me. She stayed over, people. In my apartment. I cleaned that place for two months in preparation, and the first thing out of her mouth was something to the effect of "You certainly didn't go out of your way to clean." Oh yeah, it was rough. I have a hard time in general with space invaders, so I was ready to jump out of my skin (or perhaps a window) the whole time she was there.
My mother and I had always engendered prickly-ness in one another. It was our way. We still feel its effects today, but we're awfully good friends now. I think the friendship was only able to develop when during the aforementioned visit I was finally honest with her about how much some of the things she said broke me down and beat me up. The two statements that got to me most were the ever-insulting "You have such a pretty face," and "You ate the entire meal??? OooooKay." This woman raised me by herself and worked hard to do it, so I looked up to her as my only role model in life, put her on a pedestal. When someone that important to you says things that would ordinarily feel like a bit of a slap, it becomes a full on punch in the stomach that takes the wind right out of you. And I finally told her that. And it stopped. She had no idea, really.
At least I thought it had stopped. In reality it's just manifested itself in a different way. But I've gained more perspective on my predicament as I've gotten older and I'm able to handle perceived criticisms better. For instance, since my mom now declares that "You don't have anything if you don't have your health," I've translated it into a paid (by her) membership to Curves "for my health". And when we go out to eat somewhere and she wraps up half of her meal I do the same, because I've begun to realize that I can also use her arsenal of weaponry to my advantage, turning it into inspiration. Mom's hot. She works out at Curves 3x a week, plays golf a couple of times, and plays tennis when she's not doing the other two. Even if she were doing it all just to make me feel inferior (which is what my sick mind twists it into), why shouldn't I look to her for motivation? So what if I'm not retired and I only have a two hour window in my day, mostly after dark.
Mom loves me. She wants the best for me. She's not out to get me...I think. And it pisses me off that I really do have a pretty face and that she was right all along. So I'm putting that Curves membership to good use. I'm watching what I eat and trying to pick up some of her habits because I love her. And mostly because I want to render her speechless.
Goals, etc. as influenced by Mom:
Anyway, several years ago (more like ten) my mother drove up to visit me. When I say visit me I mean visit me. She stayed over, people. In my apartment. I cleaned that place for two months in preparation, and the first thing out of her mouth was something to the effect of "You certainly didn't go out of your way to clean." Oh yeah, it was rough. I have a hard time in general with space invaders, so I was ready to jump out of my skin (or perhaps a window) the whole time she was there.
My mother and I had always engendered prickly-ness in one another. It was our way. We still feel its effects today, but we're awfully good friends now. I think the friendship was only able to develop when during the aforementioned visit I was finally honest with her about how much some of the things she said broke me down and beat me up. The two statements that got to me most were the ever-insulting "You have such a pretty face," and "You ate the entire meal??? OooooKay." This woman raised me by herself and worked hard to do it, so I looked up to her as my only role model in life, put her on a pedestal. When someone that important to you says things that would ordinarily feel like a bit of a slap, it becomes a full on punch in the stomach that takes the wind right out of you. And I finally told her that. And it stopped. She had no idea, really.
At least I thought it had stopped. In reality it's just manifested itself in a different way. But I've gained more perspective on my predicament as I've gotten older and I'm able to handle perceived criticisms better. For instance, since my mom now declares that "You don't have anything if you don't have your health," I've translated it into a paid (by her) membership to Curves "for my health". And when we go out to eat somewhere and she wraps up half of her meal I do the same, because I've begun to realize that I can also use her arsenal of weaponry to my advantage, turning it into inspiration. Mom's hot. She works out at Curves 3x a week, plays golf a couple of times, and plays tennis when she's not doing the other two. Even if she were doing it all just to make me feel inferior (which is what my sick mind twists it into), why shouldn't I look to her for motivation? So what if I'm not retired and I only have a two hour window in my day, mostly after dark.
Mom loves me. She wants the best for me. She's not out to get me...I think. And it pisses me off that I really do have a pretty face and that she was right all along. So I'm putting that Curves membership to good use. I'm watching what I eat and trying to pick up some of her habits because I love her. And mostly because I want to render her speechless.
Goals, etc. as influenced by Mom:
- Go to Curves at least 3x a week;
- Get out of the house and move;
- Eat half that sandwich and leave the chips for the boy and his dad;
- You don't have anything if you don't have your health. (damn it)
The Big Fat Truth
Welcome to The Big Fat Truth, a weight loss blog that I hope will force me to be brutally honest about the "journey" to a lesser degree of imperfection.
At this point I'm just starting out. Like a lot of other folks out there I had that OMIGOD moment when I spied a picture of myself earlier this year. The thing is that I was feeling rather hawt that day, visiting the submarine museum, wearing my USA t-shirt and just knowing that all the sailors were looking at me because I was the shit. Then came the picture. It turns out that in actuality I really looked like one of those dumpy broads on Jerry Springer who were always being kicked to the curb by their toothless boyfriends who had been sleeping with their best friend who is also dumpy.
Why didn't my husband tell me I was so fat?!? Why couldn't anyone else be honest with me? Why did I not see that picture person in the mirror? OMIGOD, I SUCK!!!! I guess what I should've been asking is: Why couldn't I be honest with myself? I mean, since when is a size 22 just considered "curvaceous"? Since when is cellulite wicked sexy? How many stretch marks does it take to get to the self deluded center of a 38 year-old fat girl? How many times do the boards under my side of the IKEA bed have to fall out before I admit it?
So here I am admitting it.
I like really bad food. I hate exercise. I hate my bat wings. I hate that my chin/neck has taken on turkey-like qualities. I want to put a pox on people who can buy clothes in regular stores. (Why does their hair always seem perfect, too? How is that fair???) These truths and others will be ridiculously overanalyzed in The Big Fat Truth. Stay tuned.
At this point I'm just starting out. Like a lot of other folks out there I had that OMIGOD moment when I spied a picture of myself earlier this year. The thing is that I was feeling rather hawt that day, visiting the submarine museum, wearing my USA t-shirt and just knowing that all the sailors were looking at me because I was the shit. Then came the picture. It turns out that in actuality I really looked like one of those dumpy broads on Jerry Springer who were always being kicked to the curb by their toothless boyfriends who had been sleeping with their best friend who is also dumpy.
Why didn't my husband tell me I was so fat?!? Why couldn't anyone else be honest with me? Why did I not see that picture person in the mirror? OMIGOD, I SUCK!!!! I guess what I should've been asking is: Why couldn't I be honest with myself? I mean, since when is a size 22 just considered "curvaceous"? Since when is cellulite wicked sexy? How many stretch marks does it take to get to the self deluded center of a 38 year-old fat girl? How many times do the boards under my side of the IKEA bed have to fall out before I admit it?
So here I am admitting it.
I like really bad food. I hate exercise. I hate my bat wings. I hate that my chin/neck has taken on turkey-like qualities. I want to put a pox on people who can buy clothes in regular stores. (Why does their hair always seem perfect, too? How is that fair???) These truths and others will be ridiculously overanalyzed in The Big Fat Truth. Stay tuned.
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