Tag Archives: healthy

I’ve Lost a Bowling Ball

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I know this is me. I promise to stop soon.

Remember my post on January 22nd about how I gained a bale of hay?  Well guess what?  I’ve started to lose some of that bale of hay.  How do I know?  Let me count the ways:

  1. I can actually get my wedding bands off without the use of motor oil.
  2. When I sit, people don’t rush up to me asking when the bakery opens.
  3. I now only have enough chins to share with 1 other person instead of 4.  Sorry people.  I am a registered organ donor, not a body part donor.
  4. I can fit a kitten in my bra, WITH my boobs in it.
  5. On the subject of bras…they now ride up on me.  Even on the tightest setting.  That poses a real problem at My Retail Job.
  6. I no longer need a shoe horn to get into my jeans.
  7. When I walk across the floor, objects don’t fall off the dresser.
  8. I haven’t been mistaken for a Chicago Bears Linebacker from behind in quite some time now.
  9. There is a dot of light coming through between the upper part of my thighs.  Enough to light the head of a pin.  But light just the same.
  10. My arms stop waving about 3 seconds sooner than before.

It would seem that I have lost the size of a bowling ball that is used by an average adult male.  I don’t know.  I think that’s pretty cool.  And that bowling ball is staying where it belongs…in the lane, the alley, the gutter.  Wherever.  Just not on me.  I’m good with that.  I’m happy with that.  So happy, I could go bowling.

Manufactured Reality

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A friend shared this picture on Facebook a couple of weeks ago.  These fine ladies were spotted in a Swedish retail establishment.  There was a bit of an outrage over them.  It seems that they “condone obesity.”  I have something to say about that.

First, kudos to this store.  America should follow suit.  Second, please define “obese” because I don’t understand.  They look pretty damn normal to me.  In fact,  I think they are hot.  They are curvy, voluptuous and sexy.  They look like you and me.  Not some undernourished, unrealistic waif.

I have a serious problem with the mannequins stores use today.  Because these “models” are probably about a size 0.  A size 0 mannequin is on display in a store that I shop in.  A store that is meant for women.  Most women I know are not a size 0.  These plastic bimbos get us in the door because we want what they are wearing.  So, we go on a quest to find the item in our size, try it on, and inevitably are disappointed because it doesn’t fit us like it fits the chick in the window, who by the way, has her clothing held on by a big-ass binder clip.  There is something wrong with that.  And it’s called false advertising.

I’m guessing that if the media, magazines, STORES, stopped portraying women and girls like this:

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my arm is bigger than this chick’s thigh.

…the percentage of eating disorders would drop.  It’s just a guess.  Because I am no expert.  I have fallen under the spell of advertisers. Until the realistic part of my brain makes me come to my senses.  But I worry about the young girls of our society.  They have to look at this same crap.  And feel the same way.  Except it’s way worse for them because they don’t have the ability to always think sensibly and are swayed by false advertising more than we are.

I don’t know about you, but I want my teenage daughter to feel good about herself.  To have high self esteem.  I don’t want her feeling badly about herself because some plastic bitch said she was fat.  It just makes our jobs as parents more difficult.  And can possibly undo years of hard work we put into our children.

So, shame on you retail stores, magazines, the media.  And bring on those size 12 mannequins. They are more than welcome here!

 

How I Am Getting Healthy

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Mr. Martian enjoys my elliptical more than I do, I’m afraid to say

I posted today on my Facebook page that I lost 8 pounds.  One of my followers wanted me to share how I am doing it.  Basically for me, it’s a life change.  Not a diet.  Besides having high cholesterol and suffering from reflux, I am at the stage in my life where if I don’t start taking care of myself, the kid will have a problem on her hands.  I don’t want to be her problem. I would like to control what I can.  And I would like to enjoy my Golden Years when the time comes.  With my hubby.  Who is healthy.

Let me start by saying that I am a foodie.  A major foodie.  There isn’t a food I won’t try and there isn’t much I don’t like.  I’ll even eat it if it falls on the floor, has a little mold or is a bit past the expiration date.  Remember, I hate throwing food away.  And I’m gross.

I don’t believe in fad diets.  I’ve tried them all from cabbage soup to Atkins.  And then only to have every pound plus some jump back on me within a few short weeks.  Although it took me months to lose it.  I believe it’s a conspiracy.

So here’s what I am doing.  I cut a lot of fat from my diet.  I try to eat at least my daily allowance of fruits and vegetables.  I am eating a healthy snack that I enjoy in between my meals so I’m not starving when lunch and dinner comes along.  I LOVE me my carbs but they had to be reduced.  Reduced, not cut.  I am not into depriving myself of All Things I Love. That doesn’t work for me.  Like I said, I am a foodie.  Depriving a foodie is like depriving a fish of water.  Not a good outcome.

I don’t put a crapload of food on my plate like I used to.  I had a really bad habit of eating way beyond the point of being full.  You know that feeling where you just can’t move?  It’s completely unnecessary.  I haven’t done that in over 2 months and I couldn’t be better.  And I never need to reach for my bottle of Tums anymore.  Ever.

I abhor exercise, so I chose something I know I can do and stick with.  I walk 3 miles 4-5 times a week.  Fast walking.  With some hills.  I plug my earphones into my iPhone and go to town.  Before I know it, it’s 45 minutes later and I feel great.  It’s completely invigorating.  If it’s crappy outside, I try to get on my elliptical for 30 minutes.  I hate it.  It’s boring and there is no fresh air.  But at least I’m moving.  No more excuses.  I have grown tired of excuses.

I will be happy if I could lose another 8-10 pounds.  But I know my limits.  I will never have that 120 pound body ever again and I am at peace with it.  I will not lose weight that I know isn’t realistic for me.  I don’t need to look like a super model.  The point here is to get healthy.  Besides DH likes me with curves.  And who am I to deprive him?

The Hungry Lion

African Lion Roaring Animal ModelI have been pretty good the last 2.5 weeks.  Actually, I have been really good.  Exercising pretty much every day, not drinking wine, making healthy choices (mostly).  But this week I am having some troubles because I am experiencing a bit of PMS.  I know you understand.  I tried to explain it to DH and although he tries to be sympathetic, he just doesn’t get it.  The urge to eat is so strong.  It doesn’t come from hunger.  It comes from this evil, dark place deep within.

I don’t like to call my journey a “diet.”  I like to refer to it as getting healthy.  Changing my habits.  Exchanging the bad for good.  I’m hoping to trick my brain into enjoying and preferring a salad for lunch over a ham sandwich with a side of chips.  When I lose this extra weight, I do not intend to fall back into my bad habits again.  Of course, I will allow myself a burger and fries.  But only sometimes.  I know if I completely deprive myself, I’m just setting myself up for failure.  It’s like telling a lion he can’t have meat anymore.  I am a carnivore.  I need my fix.  That’s just the way it is.

Yesterday evening my brother paid us a surprise visit.  He lives in North Carolina and I usually only see him once a year.  So it was a really great surprise.  The plan for dinner was a healthy meal with whole wheat pasta, peas and kale. My brother is also a carnivore.  And I knew that just wasn’t going to cut it.  So, I went to the store and bought some steaks, baking potatoes and beer.  While I was there, I picked up a bag of freshly made sour cream and onion potato chips.  I had the kid with me and her 14 year old self wanted them.  Two things to never do when going food shopping:  bring a teenager and go hungry.  I broke the two cardinal rules of grocery shopping in one day.  Shame on me.

While I was making the salad, I partook in the activity of having a chip.  Or 2.  Or 3. What could it hurt?  At dinner, I made myself a sweet potato instead of a baked potato which would have otherwise been slathered in butter and sour cream, had a small piece of steak and a big salad. That part went well.  But bro was having a beer.  Who am I to make him drink alone?  He was a guest in my home after all.  So I asked DH to make me a cocktail.  Then another.  And another.

I even said to him that I would regret this in the morning.  And I did.  I’m afraid to step on the scale.  Well, I’m not going to step on the scale because it will make me angry.  It just tears my ass knowing that those 3 chips (ok maybe 7, not to mention the cocktails) most likely added a pound or possibly more.

I guess I will just have to double up on the workouts and eat really, really sensibly for the rest of the week.  The worst week of the month in a woman’s life.  No cocktail, no chips, no piece of chocolate, no steak.  None of it for me.  But that lion in me is not happy.  Roar.  Why couldn’t I be a goat?