I’m firmly in the groove now. The denial of chocolate stings a little less each day.
Total weight loss: 4.0 lbs
I want to lose a total of 19 pounds. If my calculations are correct, I’m halfway to my goal.
I’ve always excelled at mathematics.
My brother's dog, Zeus died. I feel really sad about it for a couple of reasons. First, I loved Zeus. Second, he and Aika are about the same age. If Zeus was old enough to die, that means Aika is too. I’ve denied that for a while but can’t anymore. It hurts my soul. I am one of those ridiculous people that treats their dog like a member of the family. Zeus’ death gives me emptiness.
He was full of personality. He loved cats—loved them to death. In fact, he loved all the cats in my parents’ neighborhood to death. He was strong and fast. My brothers would hold Zeus’ leash and let him pull them on their skateboards or bikes. Zeus could jump a 6ft tall fence and would play fetch until his tongue was licking the ground from exhaustion.
Zeus was also gentle with children, smart and loyal. He knew cool tricks and loved to be scratched behind the ears. When my mom would come home from work, Zeus would spend a few minutes sniffing up and down her pant legs to see whose houses she had visited. It’s strange that he’s gone.
Zeusy was a good boy. I’ll miss him.
I took Eva to the library for story time last week as I usually do. I decided to arrive a few minutes early so we could return our books and choose out a new variety. I hurried in the shower, rushed getting Eva ready and made it out the door on time. I was very proud of myself.
The library has a set of sliding doors that leads into a vestibule with benches along the walls. Then there’s another set of sliding doors that open into the grandeur of the library. I had a bag full of books on one shoulder, my purse on the other, and I was holding Eva. I can’t trust her to walk on her own as she dashes away from me and refuses to hold my hand. Eva was squirming and wrenching her back trying to get down. I clutched her tightly and walked through the first set of doors. There were a few older men sitting on the benches and they watched me scuffling with my cargo as I entered.
I passed the group and approached the second set of doors but they didn’t open. I looked up at the sensor, took a few steps back and approached again. Nothing. I tried once more for good measure but the doors wouldn’t budge. I could see the employees at the circulation desk and was annoyed they weren’t coming over to help. I tried to stick my hand in between the doors to give them a little encouragement. Nada. By this time, Eva was wriggling with all her strength and the bags were falling off of my shoulder. I was feeling stupid that these men were watching me fumble with the doors and the wild offspring in my arms. I readjusted, took a few steps back and was preparing to slam my shoulder through the glass when I noticed the hours of operation sign posted in the window. The library opens at 10. I checked my watch. It was 9:50. The library was closed! The men were sitting there because they were waiting for it to open. I was horrified!
WHY DIDN’T ONE OF THOSE GUYS SAY THAT THE LIBRARY WASN’T OPEN?! Why did they just sit there and watch me struggling to get in? When I was trying to pry the doors open like the Hulk, a courteous, “Ma’am, the library isn’t open yet,” would have been appreciated. Instead, they all just sat there watching the circus animal. I’m sure it was the highlight of their day. They’ve already told everyone they know about the twit dancing under the door sensor at the library.
I played it cool. I turned around, avoided eye contact with my audience, and said to Eva in a cooing-voice loud enough for the men to hear, “Whoops! They’re not open.” I then walked back to my car. Quickly. Very quickly.
I underestimated just how early I would be.
Well I didn’t die. I came close, but made it through alive. Here’s how my week went: The first day I was feeling rejuvenated and recommitted to the tediousness that is dieting. By day 2, I wanted to eat everything in sight and I wanted it all covered in chocolate first. The third day I decided I’m not THAT fat and I’m alright with my current size. A little girth doesn’t hurt. Despite my yearnings, I didn’t give in.
On day 5, Michael came home from work and wouldn’t stop talking about his desire for a burger and fries. I tuned him out and fed him broccoli for dinner. (It wasn’t hard to ignore him, I do it a lot.) And then it was Sunday and I had successfully staved off the cravings for a whole week.
The worst part of the week came when I went shopping for Easter candy for a box I’m mailing for my dad. I love Easter candy. Cadbury Mini Eggs? I can and have eaten an entire bag by myself. (More than once.) I walked down the Easter aisle and inhaled the air like the addict that I am. It was gloriously dreadful. I purposefully bought more candy than I thought would fit into the box so I’d have to keep the leftovers. Thankfully I’m awful at estimating and purchased just the right amount with nothing leftover. Have you ever played those guess-the-number-of-jelly-beans-in-the-jar games? No matter how big or small the jar, it always looks like millions of jelly beans to me. You can surmise that I’ve never hit the jackpot with those games. Turns out my ineptness helped me in this Easter situation.
But I made it. One successful week of no cheating. I do have to cut back on the popcorn though. Michael bought me a popcorn machine a little over a year ago that makes popcorn that tastes exactly like movie theater popcorn. It’s delicious and I love it. I eat a lot of it. We eat popcorn every night. This week, I am going to try to limit my popcorn intake to 2 nights. I’m sure the salt isn’t helpful. My cankles don’t need any extra help in the water-retention department.
So? Did I lose any weight? Indeed I did.
Week 1: –2.2 lbs
Total weight loss: 2.2 lbs
I feel lighter already.
I was weeding the flower beds and Aika was running around the yard while I toiled. He ran around like a maniac for a minute then came dashing over to where I was laboriously hunched over. He sniffed all through the flower bed, processing in his walnut-sized brain all the visitors we had received, then went into what Yoga instructors call the “Pooping-Dog” position.
That animal dropped a load right in the middle of the weeds I was working on, then moseyed off like he had other important matters to attend to. It was mere inches away from my kneeling pad. Inches! Our yard is nearly a third of an acre and he has to release his payload right in front of me? I was appalled, disgusted, offended, and just downright mad. He wouldn’t even come back and pick it up when I asked him to. Apparently that dumb dog wants to make sure I know my place as the official family Poop Cleaner-Upper.
Oh, trust me. I know my place. Thanks to my dog and my daughter, I’ll never forget the horrors I’ve seen.
Let’s get real. I need to lose 10 pounds. Ok. 15. Fine. 20. I have been trying to get to my target weight for 9 months now. I’m having a terrible time losing these last pounds. The thing is, I love food. It’s delicious and the junk in my trunk verifies my romance with all things caloric.
There’s a pattern I repeat over and over. I become motivated, I’m really vigilant for a couple weeks, I see a few pounds sputter off and I congratulate my victory with a bowl of ice cream. The ice cream tastes so good I wash it down with a cheeseburger. Then I feel like I should have some veggies, so I eat celery stuffed with peanut butter and chocolate chips. The ol’ pounds crawl back, plus a couple, and I stomp around the house like Godzilla bellowing that it’s impossible to lose weight. It’s all very ridiculous.
Do you care about any of this? Probably not. But I need some motivation to quit dinking around and be able to breathe when my jeans are buttoned. I tell you this because I am going to start tracking my weight on my blog. I know, BORING, but I’m hoping it will help me. If I know someone is reading, hopefully I won’t want to look like a fool and I’ll stay motivated. Hopefully. I really do love food. I’ll weigh in every Monday so if you aren’t interested, don’t tune in on Mondays. If I don’t lose weight in a week, please berate and humiliate me in the comments section. Be sure to use words like, “fatty, fat pants,” “lardo,” and “chubster.”
I respond well to shaming.
This seems like an appropriate time to settle in and watch a movie.
Eva has another cold and is quite congested. She woke up in the middle of the night, screaming like Death himself was standing over her crib. Michael and I both awoke to her cries but each pretended like we were still asleep, hoping the other guy would offer to take care of her. We laid there for a few moments until the shrieking had grown so loud, neither one of us could act like we hadn’t heard it. A brief discussion ensued where we each hinted at the obvious fact that we wanted the other parent to handle it. I even threw in that I was getting up earlier and deserved more sleep. No luck. Michael is a shrewd Chicken-player and I ended up caving first.
Michael had taken care of her the previous night and I felt guilty making him do it again. I dragged my sorry butt out of my warm bed, stumbled around a bit, and took off my wrist braces on the way to Eva’s room. (I suffer from a bit of carpel tunnel and find the braces help me function throughout the day. I should mention that sleeping in wrist braces is sexy, NOT nerdy.) I handled the situation and a few minutes later I was back in bed. Here’s where the problem arises: I have a hard time falling asleep. It takes me a long time to doze off when I first get into bed, and if I’m interrupted once I am asleep, it takes even longer to find the ZZZ’s. Not Michael. He’s asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. All the time. Interruptions or not.
So there he was, sleeping away while I began the ritual of tossing and turning and trying to breathe soothingly. I then realized that when Michael took care of Eva the previous night, he was already awake. He was working late and didn’t have to get out of bed or feel the rush of cold air when the blankets were lifted. He didn’t have to stumble around waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light or wrestle with his wrist braces. He didn’t have to come back to bed and blink at the ceiling for an hour. He just had to stand up from his computer and walk up the stairs. I stewed over this for a while, but finally I realized it was selfish of me to discount that Michael had taken care of her the night before. I had been able to stay in bed and sleep. He had to stop what he was working on and lose his train of thought. He even had to climb the stairs to get to Eva’s room. It was only fair that I get up with her this time.
Sill, I was really irritated. It took all of my self-control not to punch him in the face and say it was an accident.
It’s tough being an adult.
Eva is innately generous. I didn’t even have to teach her.
She has such good genes.
I ran a 10k on Saturday at Champoeg State Park. It was a beautiful course but it rained nearly the entire race. Parking was in a grassy field and as we were pulling in, the truck in front of us was spinning his wheels in the mud. Soggy day, for sure. The rain was the perfect opportunity for me to try out my spiffy rainproof running jacket. I bought it months ago after being caught in a downpour and it has been sitting in the closet ever since. I forgot it was there. Michael suggested I grab it for the race and I was grateful he did.
Turns out the jacket works great but it makes me look like a doofus. Or maybe that’s my face that does that.
Anyway, I felt fantastic for the first 4 miles and then I was hoping that the misery could end with a violent, ferocious animal lunging from the forest to attack me. I wasn’t that fortunate and had to suffer through the final 2 miles. It was terrible.
I saw a tunnel with a bright light. I was dizzy and nearly vomited. I tried to drink some water and it just dribbled down my chin. Michael considered this a prudent time to photograph me.
BUT…BUT….I won a pie in the raffle. It was Marion berry. My friend, who was running with me, won an apple pie and gifted it to me as she is currently off sugar. (I say she was, “running with me,” but she finished 10 minutes ahead of me. She was running and I was somewhere behind her dying.) The pie was divine.
My next adventure is a relay race in June. It is a 24 hour race and I will be running it with 5 other women. The course is from Portland to Eugene and I began training yesterday.
I hope you’ll watch for me at the finish line; I’ll be the doofus in the raincoat.
