In Which I Probably Could Have Gotten to the Point Sooner. . .

Forgive me blog readers, for I have si-. . .not written. It's been 83 days since my last post. And, oh, what changes those 83 days have brought. Let me tell you a neat little story. (I'm lying. It's probably going to be long. And rambly.)

I love my parents. They are among my closest friends as well as being awesome parents. We were roommates for a long time. Actually, I moved into their basement once they became empty-nesters and they never figured out how to get rid of me. . .until my dad had the brilliant idea to "retire early" and buy an 80-acre farm in Kentucky. . .thousands of miles away. Expensive, time-consuming, but effective. It all happened very quickly. Dad found a farm on the internet around Thanksgiving, they flew out a week or two after that to check it out, bought it, put the house up for sale, and had it sold by mid-January.

Not quite sure where I was going to go with my giant Golden Retriever, I moved into my sister's basement. I loved being her roommate, too. So many adventures. I was looking to change schools at the end of the school year, and until I knew where I would be teaching, I didn't know where I would be living. Utah apartment-living is NOT pet-friendly. You have the choices of slum living and all the drug/crime-ridden shenanigans that go with it, or pay ridiculously high rent. That summer, I found a new teaching position, put down a hefty security deposit on an apartment. . .and then, suddenly, I bought a house instead. After all, I wasn't going anywhere for awhile. I had most of my siblings nearby, job security, good friends. I loved my house. And I filled it with cats. I didn't mean to. Most of them were accidents. Or fate. Or someone trying to kill me by anonymously sending me cute little assassins. . .but I digress. The point is, I planned on staying put for at least 5 years.

That was just last fall. Fast forward to the time of my last post, early October. 83 days ago. It was a happy time. My parents were staying with me because my brother was getting married to a seriously awesome girl. We had so much fun. I missed being around them. My mom gives me treats and stuff when I'm good. My dad kept hinting that I should move out there because I am his favorite. (I'm lying again. He's been telling all of us kids we should move out there. I'm pretty sure he wants to have a commune. . .not a crazy, fundamentalist kind. . .just a we all like to be together as a family kind. But I'm not lying about being the favorite. Shut it, siblings who are reading this. My blog, my reality.)

After they left, I did some serious thinking. Looking back now, I think, subconsciously, I had already made up my mind about a few things. If you've followed this blog since the beginning or follow me on Facebook, you know it's been a freakishly wild ride the past two years. Lots of fun, wonderful, awesome things going on, but also health problems, homeowner disasters, and job stress. I've mentioned in other posts that this school year has been a difficult one. I've had difficult years before, but still managed to love my job and take pride in what I do. Well, after 13 years of teaching, I've decided I'm done.

I will miss the children (most of them) and my colleagues (most of them) and the paper work (I'm lying). I won't miss the germs or the ridiculous demands or not ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever being able to leave my job behind when it's time to go home. Any real teacher knows that teaching is not just a job, it's a way of life. When you go home at the end of the day you're still thinking about what went right, what went wrong, that one kid that you're heart breaks because you know what he's going home to, planning the next day, figuring out how you're going to teach a math lesson to a class where the concept will be over the heads of at least 5 kids and bore the minds out of another 5 because they're ready to move on, trying to find the right words to respond to an angry parent so you won't get fired. . .oh, and the whole teaching a brand new set of core standards and finding the best materials to do so. . .none of that really fits into my contract time. And this year. . .is just. . .so ridiculously and unbelievably hard. The stories I could tell. . .

My body just can't handle the stress like it could 10 years ago. My heart- the metaphorical emotional center of my being, as well as my actual ticker- isn't up to it anymore. My resistance to germs has never been great, but lately, I just can't stay well. And being the logical person I am, I can see that germy children + megastress = unhealthy me. And if you've read this blog in its entirety you know my #1 goal. I don't want to die. It says it right there in the title's sub-heading. Look for yourself, Blindy McBlinderson.

So, as long as I'm making that tiny little change in my life, why don't I go ahead and sell my house and move to Kentucky?

That's the logical next step. . .right???

Apparently it was, because you won't believe what happened next.

So, here's the timeline of events:

October 15th: I e-mailed my parents and let them know I was coming to be with them forever and ever or whatever.

October 19th: Met with my realtor and got the ball rolling, posted the For Sale sign in the yard but didn't list the house yet.

For the next 10 days I feverishly cleaned and staged.

October 31st: I moved the animals and myself into my brother's basement (it's what I do).

November 1st: Officially listed the house.

November 2nd: 1st showing and offer on the house.

November 4th: House under contract.

The next 30 days I packed and packed and packed and packed and packed and fractured my coccyx and packed and packed and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.

December 5th: Closed on the house and said goodbye.

So. . .here I am sitting in my brother's basement, biding my time until the school year ends. Not really biding. I've got a million things to do. I got rid of half my stuff in part one of the move and I'm determined to get rid of at least half again by part two in June. Cross-country moves are expensive. And I'm still teaching, of course. As hard as this year has been, I must say that it has made leaving teaching more sweet than bittersweet. I foresee a major case of senioritis hitting me about March.

Some people think I'm absolutely nuts to give up my house, my job security, and move to the middle-of-nowhere Kentucky. But this is my philosophy: Life is what you make it. If you don't like it, change what you can and move on.

Sometimes little changes are enough. Sometimes they're not.

Besides, if I'm going to do something, I like to do it thoroughly and throw in a little extra for good measure.

Hi, I'm Amanda. I'm 35, soon-to-be unemployed and living in my parents' basement (again with the basements!)in the Middle-of-Nowhere, KY. No fear, no regrets.

This is going to be freakin' awesome.




P.S. I've gained 7 pounds back, but now that moving Part I is done and my coccyx is healing, I'll work some more of my arse off.

Guess What?! Guess What?!?!

It's kept you up night after night, hasn't it? I know you've all been lamenting the past 3 1/2 months: Why?! Why hasn't she posted?!?!?!

Well, I just didn't feel like it. Gosh. Leave me alone.

No, not really. I just didn't know what to write. I had to give up on exercise. . .again. Bum ticker struck. . .again. Then school started and it's been an incredibly hard year already. AND I've been picking up E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. the germy kids are puttin' down.

It's been frustrating.

I gained back several pounds and was over 200lbs. . .again. I was guzzling Diet Coke (which I had given up months ago) like there was no tomorrow and stuffing chocolate chip cookies in my face like a chipmunk hoarding acorns for a long, cold winter. I finally came to my senses and gave that up.

So, I began really watching what I ate, since there's still not a lot of exercising I can do. And had a stomach virus and flu. All that combined gave me a lovely jumpstart and I am happy to announce that I have finally broken through my plateau. I was worried I'd gain back all my "sick weghtloss" but I've been able to keep it off! Drum roll, please. . .

Beginning weight in January:
210 lbs

October 5th:
189.8

I have officially hit the 20 pound mark!!!!!

I have lost nearly 10% of my body weight!!!!!

Exclamation points!!!!!!!!!

In Which I Spend Time in the Depths of Hell

There I was, on the floor, lying on my back. Playing dead. Like a giant, sweaty opossum.

Waves of heat washed over my prone body.

Just. don't. move.

Flashback.

I was stalking perusing my friends' facebook pages when I came across this post on T's page:

"I'm excited to give Bikram Yoga a try -- this is a great deal! Who wants to do it with me?"

And this link to Groupon.

http://www.groupon.com/deals/bikram-yoga-at-brick-canvas

And I thought:

Hey. This would be good to get me back into exercise mode after my 2-month hiatus. And I'd have a buddy to keep me motivated. And it IS a great deal.

So I responded with alacrity. And several exclamation points.

Flashforward.

I roll my eye over to where my friend is going through all the poses like a rock star. Then I close my eyes again and continue to perfect my Wilted Woman pose.

I think back, fondly, to when I first walked in and was merely. . .hot. I was so young then. And so naïve. And so dry.

I had started off pretty well. But then the heat and pretzel twisting of my body started going to my head. Brain fuzzy, I'd sit down for a bit and watch. Then I'd try again. And then I would lie down and listen.

Finally, it was time for the floor work. Great! I can do that. No standing = No dizziness.

Again, it was going pretty well. However, it was a little difficult to grasp things, being all sweaty and tangled up in my own limbs and whatnot. I'm not what you would call. . .graceful. Or coordinated. Or agile. You get the picture. The instructor came over to lend a helping hand. And then it happened. A little tug and twist. My shoulder gave a tiny pop. Fire spread down the muscles of my arm. I sat up, cussing- in my head, out of respect to the others, and fear that even several hundreds of miles away my mother would know. But not crying. Because my tear ducts had emptied themselves into a sweat gland reservoir 45 minutes earlier.

The instructor asked me a few questions to make sure it wasn't too serious, and then suggested I take it easy for the remaining time. That's when I began seriously practicing the Dead Opossum pose. I believe I have mastered it, should you desire to learn.

After an eternity (time being infinitely difficult to measure in the bowels of purgatory) it was time to go.

So, there you have it. The depths of Hell. It was hot. It was sweaty. It was uncomfortable.

I'm going back Thursday.

After all, I spent money.

And we all know how I feel about that.

And I did feel pretty good afterwards.

(Lesson learned: Hydrate properly BEFORE Bikram)

P.S. Thanks, T, for getting me out of my comfort zone and helping me try new things and being a good example of not giving up. I will try to emulate that next time :)

P.P.S. My shoulder will be fine with some ibuprofen and ice. Just a little strain.

P.P.P.S. I know my mother will be worried I'm putting too much stress on my heart, so: Mommy, I'm fine. I promise I will take it slow whenever I need to and stop if I get symptomatic.

Heartbroken. . .Literally.

Let me preface this post with, I am okay.

I've got some bad news.

But I'm going to sandwich it between some good news, so we can all feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Good News!

This week's stats:

195 lbs

2 lbs down from the last post

15 lbs down from January

Now, 2 lbs in one month doesn't sound super-great, but considering what kind of month it's been it's amazing I haven't gained back everything and then some.

Bad News!

So, I was born with a heart defect, a moderate form of Pulmonary Stenosis. This isn't the bad news. But you need some background.

Here's the Cliffs Notes version: My pulmonic valve is narrow and doesn't close all the way which creates two problems: blood carrying oxygen to my lungs is slowed down because of the narrowed valve and the faulty valve flap regurgitates blood back into my heart, building pressure in the right ventricle. Eventually, the valve will need to be replaced. Still not the bad news.

It hasn't bothered me most of my life, except getting out of breath faster than most people. Six years ago I started having more problems- chest pains, fatigue, etc. So, I had a balloon valvuloplasty where they stretched out the valve. Problems went away. Yay! However, it's a temporary fix- doc said I'd probably need to have a replacement in 10-15 years. Well, it's been about half the time and I'm becoming symptomatic again- not as severe as last time, but it means the valve is narrowing again. Still not the bad news.

Here's the bad news: I have to drop out of the Ragnar. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!! I'm so sad. But I've got to be careful about exerting myself to put off invasive procedures for as long as possible. Don't forget the subtitle of this blog: I don't want to die. That's still my main focus.

I'm hoping to be cleared for light exercise soon, though. And I am bound and determined to conquer the Ragnar. Just not this year.

While I'm disappointed I won't be joining W in June, the journey so far has been rewarding and I'm going to keep going. My focus is going to be more geared toward improving nutrition, strength training, and continuing weight loss.

Good News!!

Remember the t-shirt pictures from the last post? Befores:



Afters (don't look at the mess and my haggard appearance):


My clothes are fitting so much better- or, drum roll please, THEY ARE TOO BIG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've had to dig out clothes from my "these are too cute I know I will fit in them again someday so I'm not parting with them" bins of clothes.

Things Are Looking Up. . .and Down

The sun is shining. My body is on the mend. My house is on the mend. My cat hasn't tried to kill me in almost 48 hours.

Things are looking up!

And down:

This week's weigh-in: 197 lbs.

Down 1 pound from last post.

Down 13 pounds from January.

Yay!!

I was worried I would gain back most of the weight I lost due to braces/e.coli/flu once I started eating again.

Still working on getting more consistent with my exercise and training. I'm still easily worn out from being so sick and not able to eat real food. But I've tried to stay more active during the day- walking around the classroom more and during recess duty.

As long as the weather holds I'm planning on trying to fit in a few walk/run sessions wherever my crazy schedule will fit it in. I think that's another reason I haven't been able to be consistent- because I can't schedule a specific time everyday. I need to shift my idea of consistency. I can still schedule my exercise in, but it just won't be the same time each day. It sounds like such a small thing, but my day is filled with hour-by-hour and minute-by-minute planning, it's hard to shut that off.

So many mental roadblocks. They're definitely more difficult to overcome than the physical. Can I get an "Amen-Hallelujah!!"?

I kind of wanted to post pictures each week to show progress. I say "kind of" because, as my mother will attest to, I HATE having photos taken of myself. I'm sure that's all psychological, too. BUT I will post occasional photos when I remember and can think of a good motivation.

I have a good motivation.

When I got my braces on, I got a t-shirt. I love the t-shirt. But I can't wear it. Not yet. Because I look like Jabba the Hut or Slimer from Ghostbusters. Soooooooooo many fat rolls. I am so uncomfortable posting these pictures. But, at my next appointment I'm totally going to rock this shirt. Or at least not roll it so much.

Enough stalling. The future "past me". . .



My next appointment is April 9th and if I wear my t-shirt, I get a FREE smoothie. FREEEEEEEE!

See. Motivation.

The First Ten

It's been an exciting week.

E. coli-laced smoothie.

Roof leak resulting in walls, floor, and ceiling torn out.

Turning my expander for the first time- a bizarre throwback to medieval torture if there ever was one.

And ending with a lovely bout of influenza.

The latter being the reason I didn't post on Saturday.

But it's not been without it's perks. Food just hasn't been. . .appetizing. Applesauce and Gatorade have been the food du jour. Except I was really adventurous and had some mac 'n' cheese yesterday and yogurt today.

I weighed myself this morning:

198.0 lbs

12 pounds down from when I first started this blog.

I still haven't been exercising, though. And it's not going to happen this week either. I would say I'm "weak as a kitten" but my kittens are freakishly strong. . .but I'm sure you get the point. I know it's not wise to push when sick. That's just asking for more trouble.

It's frustrating, though. My head's finally in a place where I feel ready to follow through on my committment to excerise and I'm now two weeks behind in my Ragnar training. Ugh.

BUT. . .

I will not let it stop me.

I will return victorious next week.

I just need to remember "slow and steady". It may not win this race, but it will allow me to finish. Without dying.

Because. . .

I don't want to die.

*forehead smack*

I don't even know where to begin. . .

I guess I owe everyone a Diet Coke. Except it's all gone. Seconds after I put it in the faculty room. Every last bottle and can. The vultures. I didn't even have a chance to look back in that lingering, nostalgic movie way.

The daily exercising just didn't happen. Correction: I didn't make the exercise happen. It was Parent-Teacher Conference week and I thought it was a good excuse not to exercise. I took that excuse and ran with it. . .uhhhhh. . .sat with it. And ate some food with it, too. Apparently, a lot of it. . .and I don't even remember what. But I do remember that by Wednesday I was all the way back up to 206. That was a wake-up call. As of today?

203.8

Up 0.2 pounds from last week.

I am NOT giving up, though. I'm committing again to a week of 30 minutes of exercise. It's going to happen. It will.

My wise sister commented last week.

And I copy and paste: "Every re-commitment makes your resolve stronger than before. Also, as we teach in rehab: You haven't lost all the progress you made before your lapse. There is no starting from the beginning again. There is only continuing on in the direction you are pointing in the moment...I am so. wise." <---see, she's so wise. And if she's right, pretty soon I'll have resolve of steel. And then, maybe, I will have buns of steel to match.

I did get some exercise in Thursday and Friday, though. So, it was an improvement over last week. I pulled about a zillion staples from my brother's floor so he can get new floor put in. I sweated, therefore I exercised. And weird muscles hurt.

So, new topic.

Thursday I got braces.

It's my new diet tool. It's super-effective. It's how I lost 2.2 lbs in just two days! Call now for your free trial. . .no, don't. Nothing's free and braces are semi-permanent, okay?

So many of my food-related problems are non-issues. . .for the time being. So many no-nos involved with braces. And since I'm forking out several thousand dollars (lousy dental insurance doesn't cover ADULT orthodontics. . .grrr) I will follow the Orthodontal Commandments religiously. So, I'm cutting out candy, soda, chips, and other things on the no-no list.

Along with the braces, I got an expander. Which makes eating even more complicated. Unless it's liquidy or puddiningy it gets stuck on top of the expander. And I can't stand it. So, even once the discomfort of the braces subsides food that requires masticating will be avoided. I've mentioned before that I'm a creature of convenience. And it is highly inconvenient to have to try to suck food from the top of my expander. And it NEVER all comes out. I have to swish my mouth with water 37 times before it feels even halfway normal.

So, it is now a diet of liquidy and puddingy consistencies. Smoothies. Yogurt. Pudding cups. Pureed soups. Applesauce.

I am now forced to plan ahead with my eating.

All in all, despite this throwback to teen awkwardness, I do believe these braces will be highly effective for my teeth AND waistline.

Hugs and Kisses. . .Noooooooooooooo!!!!!

A few months ago I unwittingly set in motion a terrible chain of events that led to a week of. . .wait, no. . .

Let me just get the numbers over with. And then I'll explain.

Ummm. . .

203.6

Up 0.8 pounds.

I was sooooooo surprised. . .

that it wasn't more.

Because this week was the best week for me.

Because this week was the worst week for me.

It was. . .TEACHER APPRECIATION WEEK!!!!!!!!!

Whichever PTA mom decided to move our school's teacher appreciation week to the last week of January was a GENIUS!!!! And I'm not even being sarcastic. Personally, January is the ABSOLUTE WORST month EVER. After 34 of them I think I would know, right? And this one was possibly the suckiest on record.

So, when I walked up to my classroom door on Monday and saw my super-cool room mom door, I was so excited. I had completely spaced that this week was THE WEEK. And at my last school THE WEEK was always like any other week. Which was okay. Especially since it made this year so much more special. I had no idea what I was in store for.

Let's take a trip in the wayback machine. . .September. In my mail slot was a form from the PTA. It was a "getting to know you" type thing. I made the mistake of answering the questions honestly. What is your favorite candy? Hershey's Hugs and Kisses. What is your favorite treat? Chocolate chip cookies and brownies. What is your favorite drink? Diet Coke.

Fast forward to last week. Guess what showed up in my sweet 3rd graders' hands? Everyday.

Monday I showed great restraint. I ate the caramel-filled homemade brownie during recess and drank only half of the 20 oz Diet Coke. I even exercised that night. But then. . .

It just kept coming.

By Wednesday, alone, the Diet Coke at my desk and on the floor totaled to one 2-liter bottle, eight 20-oz. bottles, two 16-oz. bottles, and three 12-oz cans. The Hershey kisses and hugs? 6-freakin-pounds. And then the dozen chocolate chip cookies. And more sugary, fatty treats.

Tuesday and Wednesday I shamefully admit to delicious gluttony. Which of course made me sluggish and whiny when it came to exercising. Thursday and Friday I did a little better. And I am happy to admit that by the time of this publication I never want to see another hug or kiss again. And any thought of sugar makes me queasy. So, there's my silver lining, right?

Now, what to do with all that Diet Coke? Any takers?

So, even though the week was a nutritional bust, it was amazingly awesome in the morale department. Hands down the best Teacher Appreciation Week since my days at Central.

So with the candy safely disposed of in my student stash and the Diet Coke going into the faculty fridge, I think I can safely and confidently re-commit to making nutritionally responsible food choices and exercising at least 30-minutes Monday-Saturday. For reals. I promise. If I don't, well. . . .I'll owe you a Diet Coke.

Week 2 Results

This week was just. . .bad.

But it's over and as Anne of Green Gables says, "Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it."

Despite my poor choices this week (if you check out the food and exercise tabs they are glaringly full of blankness) and icky sinus issues, I did make progress. I set a goal for myself to be down to 200 lb by the end of January. With just a few more days left, if I work hard and make better decisions this week, I think I can do it.

I'm also hoping that by the end of next week I should have a treadmill, which will be a godsend in this grody-bitterly-cold-poison air. And I can start some real Ragnar training! One of the things that pulled me out of my slump was an email from W with our leg assignments and a to-do list. I'm a planner and to-do lister. Details and lists keep me focused and remind me what I'm working for. And then the best part of all: the check off!!!! Fellow listers will know exactly what I'm talking about.

A shout out to all of you who take the time to comment: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!! I know I've got many silent supporters and you are very appreciated, but those comments remind me that I am not alone in my struggles, I have options, and I am accountable. So, please keep them coming!

Ready for the results?

202.8

Down 1 pound this week.

Down 7.2 pounds total.

Need to lose 2.8 pounds to make my goal.

I commit to 30 minutes of exercise Monday-Friday this coming week. No matter how crappy I feel. No matter how much I don't want to do it.

Hold me to it, friends.

Saboteurs, Nemeses, and Archenemies! Oh, My!

In the coming days, weeks, and months there will be things that come up that could potentially derail my success. Scratch that. Not "potentially." It is inevitible.

In no particular order, here are a few:

Saboteur #1: My job. I teach, and anyone who spends long periods of time with children knows a few things, and don't get me wrong- I absolutely ADORE my class this year- best group I've had in years. However. Children are frustrating at times. Children are delightful most of the time. Children are exhausting energy-suckers ALL THE TIME.

I love the children. The children love me. Because the children love me, they want to share everything with me. EVERYTHING. Stories, cute drawings, handfuls of sweaty-palmed skittles from their lunches, "jokes" that they start over five times and end in unintelligible giggles, family secrets/plots/intrigues. . .

And the germs. SO MANY GERMS!!!!!!!! The children make me sick. Literally. I think I'm allergic to one or all of them. Seriously. But it's okay. I still love the children.

Then there are all the non-teaching duties: grading, meetings, parent communication, committee assignments.

And the 45-minute commute. An hour and a half of my day stuck in the car.

By the time I get home I am physically, emotionally, and mentally depleted. The desire to cook a healthy dinner or exercise is somewhat lacking.

Saboteur #2: Foooooooooooooooooooood. I love delicious food. I hate non-delicious food. I am a convenience junkie. The good thing is, there are so many delicious foods that I love that are also healthy for me. But they take time. Forethought. Trips to the grocery store. So many times convenience trumps the health and deliciocity factors. Much to the detriment to my waistline and general well-being. If I choose something delicious and convenient, it's usually not healthy. If I choose something healthy and convenient, it's usually not delicious. And if it's not delicious I go in search of more food to satisfy my discriminating palate. <--- I jest. By "discriminating" palate I simply mean that my tastebuds must dance a happy dance. A flavor-full happy dance. Then there is the brain-washing voodoo aspect of food. I've worked hard to recognize and manage my emotional eating over the past several years. I only occaisionally stress or sad or happy eat. But I mindlessly zombie eat. And portion control? Webster's defines control as the following: a restraining or directing influence over. Oh, yeah. I definitely have control. I restrain the non-delicious food from gathering on my plate and directly influence large amounts of deliciousness on to it instead.

Saboteur #3:

This is my BKF (Best Kitten Friend), Professor Minerva McGonagall. She's nothing like her namesake. Maybe I should have named her Lady Voldemort. No, that wouldn't really fit. Because I'm sure that she did what she did out of some misguided sense of love. I think.

She Tonya Harding-ed my toe. With a mug.

This little piggy went, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!! &@#$@!!!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!!!"

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became The Cat Who Lived, only because she could run faster than. . .well, because she could run.

Of course it could have been just an accident. Or maybe she thought I could use some extra rest and decided to force the issue by incapacitating me. Or perhaps it was a cry for help, a need for more bonding time. With me laid up we were definitely getting in more snuggle time.

However, as the days of recovery wore on, I began to suspect an ulterior, even more self-serving motive. This happened just as I was about to launch my exercise campaign. Coincidence? No.

Suddenly, the realization dawned on me.

Kitten loves my fat rolls.

The squishy softness is perfect for optimal kneading of the claws. The perfect venue for napping, complete with cushiony headrests.

Kitten wants me fat.

Kitten will go to any lengths.

But forewarned is forearmed. Vigilance is my watchword, kitten.

Prepare to say goodbye to the fat rolls, BKF. Their days are numbered.

Drum Roll Please. . .

Keeping it short and sweet tonight:

So, after a week of healthier eating and getting off my butt, the results are in.

Last Saturday my starting weight was at my personal all-time high of 210.

This Saturday I am down to 203.8.

That would be a loss of 6.2 pounds.

While I am VERY happy about these results, I am aware of a few things:

1) These first ten pounds are going to go the fastest, because they were put on the fastest and by things I did in excess that I normally don't do: drink gallons of diet coke, eat large quantities of sugary, fatty Christmas treats, lay in my bed sleeping the day away and watching hour after hour after hour of Netflix.

2) A good percentage of the weight lost this week is probably water weight.

3) Because of 1 and 2, I need to keep perspective as I weigh myself as the weeks go on. I need to feel just as good about a 1 pound or 1/2 pound loss. Or no loss, but no gain.

On a separate note:

In case you were wondering where I've been tracking my food and exercise, there are tabs at the top of the blog. Nothing fancy.

Help! I'm on the floor exercising and I can't get up. . .

Today was one of those days.

I didn't sleep well. Woke up at 2:30 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep until 4:30. 5:30 came waaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy too soon. Stuffy head. Felt groggy all day. Kids were stir-crazy and irritible. Everything was just harder and took longer. I was dreading exercise time. I just wanted to crawl into bed and Netflix the night away.

I got home and ate half my healthy dinner. I put on my exercise clothes. Grudgingly. Good thing, because I had an unexpected visitor. During my exercise time. Dang it? But my unexpected visitor was kind of awesome and restored some of my good humor. So I went downstairs to start my video. Then I realized I forgot to put on my shoes. I went back upstairs and put them on. It took forever, because the kitten thought it would be fun to Tarzan-swing on the laces. I got back downstairs and then realized I had taken the video upstairs with me when I went to go get my shoes (don't even ask me why). Back up the stairs. Back down the stairs. Good humor gone, but I was determined to finish what I had started. The dog followed me down.

I start the exercise video with the warm up. This is good. I can do this. I can do hard things.

Then the floor exercises began. I'm mid-crunch when a MASSIVE Golden Retriever is suddenly nose-to-nose with me.

"Go away, Charlie."

Instead, Charlie starts pawing at me and whining.

"Go AWAY, Charlie."

More pawing and whining and then. . .my arm is in his mouth and he's trying to drag me to safety.

Apparently he thought I had collapsed and was dying. I don't know, maybe he sensed how evil crunches truly are. . .

Here's my fat arm with purple Charlie rescue marks:

Here's to a better tomorrow. Goodnight.

Monday's Are Dumb

I purposely didn't start my journey on a Monday.

Because Monday's are dumb. You see, I suffer from crippling Weekend Seperation Anxiety. And it's always at its worst on Mondays. Monday morning = weekend mourning. I keep thinking of all the sleep I slept, and the quality time with the fur children, and the whole not working thing. They were good times. . .and suddenly. . .it's all over.

And if I screw up on a Monday it seems like the whole week is shot, so I might as well wait until next Monday.

I know, I know. . .Monday has an irrational psychological hold on me. But I know I'm not alone.

So, my brilliant plan is to start on Tuesday. You know, because Tuesdays are okay. Because I've had time to go through the first 4 stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and by the time Tuesday rolls around, I've reached the final stage: acceptance.

AND Tuesday means there are only 3 more days till Friday.

So here's the plan for this week:

1) I've already been working on the food end of things. I'll be tracking my food/nutrition here, but more on that later.

2)What I struggle with THE MOST is the exercise part and this is where I need your help/support/encouragement/nagging/threatening.

Due to illness and a fondness for extreme lounging, the past six weeks have been rather. . .sedentary. I need to get my body ready to get in shape. So I'm going to start with strengthening my core and working on my balance. Seriously people, I've got the body of an 80-year old right now.

For the rest of the week my goal is to log at least 30 minutes of exercise.I've got a great video I'll do Tuesday-Saturday. I always get good results from it and I know it will prep my body for more intense workouts. For enquiring minds, it's Kathy Ireland Body Specifics. She's not annoying and it's broken into 12 minute segments. I can do anything for 12 minutes. Well, except run. YET.

Here's what I need from you:

If I haven't logged my exercise by 8:30 each night, please flood my FB page/blog comments with concerned queries such as, "Are you dead?! Because if you're not, why haven't you logged your exercise?"

Thank you and good night. :)

Hello.

Hi, my name is Amanda and I am obese.

Obese. Such an ugly word. But I chose it on purpose. It makes me uncomfortable. There is no postive association with the word. I no longer want this label. So out it goes.

I stepped on the scale this morning and the number made me sick.

210

In my best WWF voice (and in my head because talking out loud to yourself is just crazy) I yelled, "YOU ARE GOING DOOOOOOOOWWWWNNN!!!!!"

My awesome friend, W, has invited me to be a part of her Wasatch Back Ragnar Relay team in June. Perfect. I can use this as my kickstart to greatness. You see, it includes all the things that motivate me:

1) Peer pressure. I don't want to let W down. Not that she would ever, ever, ever pass judgement. It's just that she's kind of a hero of mine. I've followed her journey as a runner and she inspires me. (W, if you're reading this, I totally blog stalked you for, like, a year and a half. I hope you're not too creeped out and we can still be friends).

2) Cool stuff. I want that cool Ragnar sticker to put on my car window as a status symbol. Call me shallow. Actually, don't. This is my journey, so shut it.

3) I had to fork over $124. As God as my witness, I cannot throw that kind of money away. I am committed. There is no way I am backing out. I will get my money's worth and complete this race or die trying. Which brings me to my next motivator:

4) I don't want to die. Since I'm not backing out, I've got to train for this baby. Really train. I've done 5ks, 10ks, and even an accidental 13k. However, you know you're not a serious runner when you have to open your jacket and flash your race bib to fellow runners who ask, "Uhh. . .are you guys in this race?" Just because my sister and I were stopping to take awesome posed pictures. . .of us running.

The truth is, I typically don't run for extended periods unless I am being chased. And that just really doesn't happen often. Or at all. Hence the fact I'm in horrible shape right now.


And that leads me to why I've started this blog.

I need a forum to log my training, chart my progress, whine, complain, and shout from the rooftops when I only eat one chocolate chip cookie instead of six. Because this is not about giving up the things I love. It's about making better choices. And if you want to follow along and cheer me on or tell me to stop whining and take the dog for a walk, consider yourself invited.

So, here I go. . .