catheroominations

I am in a slump. A weight-loss slump. So when my friend Rachel told me about a bootcamp she was considering joining, I jumped at the chance to get back into shape. Those of you who have been here awhile or knew me back in 2003-2004 when I was smokin’ hot, know that I have done bootcamp before and got in some crazy good shape, coming off an anorexic 6 months or so. Seriously, I was pretty ripped, or as ripped as I can be. I had definition in my abs and had strong arms and a smaller, rounder ass that someone once told me resembled that of Britney Spears. Yeah, I really looked like that. And I have pictures to prove it.

That was then.

You all know about my weight issues. You’ve read them here before. I’ve been on Weight Watchers since Labor Day and have lost no more than 15 pounds. Wait. I have probably lost around 50 pounds since joining, but it’s the same 1 or 2 or 3 pounds multiple times. Anyway, stuck at a 15-pound loss, I knew bootcamp would help me blast oodles of calories as well as this persistent plateau.

On June 1 I woke up at 5 am to get to the park by 6. Rachel and I did not know what to expect but we (I think we?) were pleasantly surprised by a kick-ass workout that would leave us deliciously sore every Monday through Thursday and also on Saturdays. Audra, our trainer is AWESOME. Possibly the most awesome bootcamp instructor I have had (and I have had several).

To keep us motivated during our summer workouts, Audra created a 10-week challenge that began on June 13th. The challenge comprises regular bootcamp workouts along with holistic nutrition counseling. Whoever wins the challenge by losing the most body fat and/or gaining the most muscle wins a year of bootcamp. For free. A whole year. This might sound funny, that I would want a year’s worth of waking up at 5 am Monday through Thursday and 7 am on Saturdays. Most people don’t want to get up before the birds and work their butts off to the tune of 500-600 calories per workout. More than that, most people don’t want to pay to have to do it. I’m willing to pay to get into shape, but I don’t think I will be paying much longer because I plan to win this challenge. Oh, and after 12 months of bootcamp, Audra will buy me whatever pair of jeans I want, no matter the cost. If they’re going to be expensive, they’re also going to be small.

I have a lot to work with. Despite the 15-pound loss and my ability to fit into my smaller clothes, I am fat. Don’t deny it, I’m not pitying myself. I have scientific proof of said fatness. When I did my bodyfat composition testing at the beginning of the challenge, I knew the percentage of fat on my body would be not good. In fact, I joked with Matte before taking the test. With no knowledge of what was good and what was bad, I told him, “I’ll bet you I’ll test at 35% fat. Watch.” He thought I was crazy, but I wasn’t too far off.

People, 34 percent of my body is FAT. So, see? I can say I am fat because one third of my body is pure, gooey, flabby, slimy, yellow fat. That is not OK. In fact, 34% puts me in the “poor” category. I know there are people who have much more than 34% bodyfat, and many of those choose to do nothing about it. But that is not OK for me either.

The percentage sucks duck balls. It really does. But I’m glad to not be in denial anymore. Pound-wise, I am within 8 pounds of my goal weight range, but bodyfat-wise, I’m far from healthy. So for the next 10 weeks, I will stick to my trainer’s eating plan that does not include sugar, alcohol, or coffee. I will eat protein and vegetables and drink green tea and pour flax on my yogurt. I will eat healthy fats like almonds, olive oil, and peanut butter and take essential oil supplements. I don’t need sandwiches. I don’t need beer. I don’t need ice cream. What I need is to be healthy and not 34% bodyfat. I will work out for a minimum of 5 hours a week and lunge, squat, plank, jump rope, throw medicine balls, lift kettle bells, pull resistance bands to the point of snapping, and I will run my legs off. At the end of the 10 weeks, if I don’t win the grand prize, I will be fit, with toned muscles, and a decreased percentage of bodyfat.

I wasn’t going to broadcast my percentage to the whole wide Internet, but I needed to so I could be accountable. I plan to check in on regular intervals (maybe just to say “sweet screaming jesus on a wholewheat cracker, my abs are killing me!”) to let you know how I’m progressing. If I stumble, I’ll be here to get some moral support. So far, it’s not been too hard, the eating plan. It’s close to what I was doing on Weight Watchers, but my calories have increased to allow adequate fueling for my crazy workouts. I freaking love bootcamp and always have when I’ve done it in the past. It’s the only workout regimen that has brought me success. The camaraderie, the early morning air, the view of the lake, and the getting it over with by 7 am. It’s what works.

Dang, look at all the cobwebs around here. It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything. Is anyone still here? Hello? Echo…echo…echoooo…

Lately I just haven’t been feelin’ it dawg. It being really anything. I haven’t felt like taking photos, blogging, writing, reading, exercising, or really anything that requires any initiative on my part. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it seems I have lost my mojo. It would have been helpful if I’d taken a photo of my mojo while it was still here so I could send it to the milk people to put on their cartons.

How I’m feeling is usually reserved for winter, not when it’s sunny and warm and happy outside, so I’m not sure why I have such a case of the blahs. I am suffering from a tremendous lack of motivation and have become a rather large bump on a log. I’m even a bump on a bump on a log. I don’t think it’s depression because I have been depressed before and it wasn’t like this. I think what I have here is a serious case of laziness.

The way I do projects is this: I get really excited and go all crazy about one thing, say, writing. I sign up for a class, I join a writers group, I go to places that help me remember things for my memoir, I read books about writing, on Twitter I follow authors and people who are in “the biz” so I can stay motivated, and I write, and write, and write. And then, for no apparent reason I stop. Done. I just don’t wanna. It’s no longer exciting. I get bored. Bah.

Without giving too much away about this writing project, if it comes together and we finish it (I’m writing it with a friend) it will be awesomely awesome. I’m not just saying that. Everyone I tell about it says “Whoa. That sounds like a great idea. I can’t wait to read your book.” Even people who write and publish books.

But books don’t write themselves. I know this because I have no book so far.

I haven’t written anything since the day I sat in the cafeteria at Stanford Hospital and did an assignment for class. I wrote for one hour about the chaotic sounds (dozens of conversations at once, none of which I could understand), the cacophony of smells (cafeterias are to the nose what nails on a chalkboard are to the ears), and the sights (a bunch of people who look like doctors because they wear scrubs and/or lab coats and clogs but in reality could be housekeeping).

Maybe going back to that place wasn’t such a good idea.

Maybe it momentarily sucked the life out of me again, like it did in 2002.

Maybe it was really freaky to get my records from my therapist at that time and reading them. She used words like anxious, rage, fear, and sadness to describe me. Wait. What? That was me? That’s not who I am now so it’s strange to know I ever was that girl.

Maybe running in to his favorite nurse when I visited oncology wasn’t the best thing. She adored him and now adores his memory. I don’t. She misses him. I don’t. I should probably feel bad about that. But I don’t feel bad. Going back to the oncology floor didn’t make me sad. I remembered it, but I didn’t remember it. It was like I was on the set of a TV show I watch a lot. It looked familiar, but I didn’t feel like I’d been there myself. Nice Nurse hugged me because she thought it was hard for me to go back there. It wasn’t.

Maybe I’m tired of remembering about all the crap he pulled, and how he was not really Mr. Nice Guy everyone thought he was.

Maybe I’m having trouble remembering what it was about him that kept me around. Surely there must have been some Nice Guy moments. I was his doormat for a long time, but I wasn’t a complete moron the whole time. Was I? I can’t remember the good, except that he spent a lot of money on me to try and hide his emotional bankruptcy.

Maybe I’m just scared to do it.

Maybe I’ll fail.

Maybe I suck.

Maybe if I had a better desk where I could write.

Maybe if my work offered a sabbatical to allow me to devote the time to writing. Now that’s no excuse because Faulkner wrote As I Lay Dying during his lunch hours while working in a coal mine or some old-timey job like that, and Alice Hoffman woke up at 5 am everyday to write her first novel before working two jobs transcribing sex clinic sessions and working at a department store (I learned that from her Twitter feed.)

Maybe I should stop making excuses and take the Nike approach.

People, I DID IT. I completed all 30 days of the 30-Day Shred. That means every single one of the last 30 days, I let Jillian Michaels kick my ass all over my living room. She worked my thighs, my shoulders, my biceps, my hamstrings, my back, my abs, my abs, my abs, and my abs.

And you know what? It SHOWS. My pants are so loose, especially in the waist (which is where they’re already loose, but I’m not complaining) and hips.

And my ass? It’s rounder and firmer and doesn’t jiggle much at all when I run and jump in place.

I still have work to do and despite the lost inches (I have no idea how many because I didn’t take measurements before or after) I am not even in my goal weight range yet. I know the lack of weight loss is due to muscle gain so I’m no longer beating myself up for the scale not budging. Instead, I removed the scale from my house. Stupid little square panel that gives me bad news all the time. Get outta my house!

One of my motivators during the last 30 days, aside from the friendly competition with the others at Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans is that I have a wedding to go to later this month. The dress I am wearing is a halter, so I need good arms and a nice back for it. Wanna see the dress? It’s here. Cute, huh? I don’t typically wear long dresses, but my friend Liza bought the same dress for a wedding (we both hate our legs) and let me try it on. I was in love. That love grew stronger with a 20% coupon Liza sent me. My arms and back don’t look like the model in the photo because sometimes I eat. But I still think the dress is flattering on my newly shredded self.

I HIGHLY recommend this DVD to anyone who wants to be in better shape and get some all-over toning. It’s a very challenging workout but oh so worth it. If you’re not accustomed to exercise, don’t fret, there are lower impact versions of the moves for beginners. All you need is a mat and some hand weights (I use 5-pounders but might increase to 8). You have nothing to lose but sag and flab, so try it! And if you do, let me know so I can cheer you on. I’m planning to extend the 30 days for as long a I can, so I’ll be shredding along with you. We can curse Jillian together.

But I can’t think of anything to say.
Figures!

Not really. I’ve never even been fishing. And I’m OK with that.

I cannot blog because on April 15 AT&T sabotaged my phone line and I have, for the last week, HAD NO INTERNET. This does not please me. Ask Matte, who has been subject to my conniption fits and expletives about our less-than-stellar ISP. When it works it’s fast and fabulous and a thing of pure beauty. But when it doesn’t work for the same full week as my first week of online writing class at UCLA, well, it pisses me off. I can only type so much on my iPhone, you know?

If anyone reading this works for AT&T, could you pretty please fix my phone line? Otherwise I’m going to get all Keenan Thompson on them and just yell “FIX IT!” over and over, until they crumble into a hysterical, sobbing mess, begging me to stop.

In the meantime, feast your eyes on this. Both photos were taken on Easter, one year apart. I’m wearing the same jeans in both photos, but they look a bit more comfortable now, dontchya think?

This morning when I woke up I was not sore at all. After three days of the 30-Day Shred, I felt fine. And I feel fine now, after the fourth workout this morning. That does not mean it’s an easy workout. I still grunt and groan and sweat like a piece of cheddar cheese in a Bikram yoga class, but I AM NOT SORE.

I am so very much not sore that I even considered trying Jillian’s The Biggest Loser counterpart’s yoga video tonight. Trainer Bob has former contestants (a few of them winners) as his “class.” I popped the DVD in and watched it to see what it was like. And then I sat there, transfixed, just watching. I watched yoga. For one hour. I did not get up from the couch to join in because I was in heavy food coma like I have not experienced in months. I think my turkey burger on whole wheat and flax English muffin did me in. That, and I had a glass of milk with dinner. If you are a person (like I used to be and sometimes still am) who can’t keep from snacking after dinner, drink milk with your meal. It will stuff you. Or maybe it’s just me because I drink practically nothing but water all day. Still though, I get so full when I have milk, which is good. It keeps the munchies at bay, and me a happier person on weigh-in days.

Another trick I have is rather than watch TV at night, I read. I can’t really read and eat at the same time. For one thing, I lose my place in the book when I reach into the bag, or box, or bowl to get whatever it is I am eating. Plus, I don’t want to get food all over my book. If the book is really good, I can become so engrossed that I lose all track of time and all of a sudden, it’s time for bed. AND I MADE IT A WHOLE EVENING WITHOUT SNACKING. That’s the best, Jerry!

Every Saturday morning, I get up earlier than most people and go to a Weight Watcher meeting. I may or may not have mentioned that here. I love WW. Truly love it. The leader is awesome and not cheesy or annoying like some I have encountered in my many failed attempts at WW. It’s because of her, and the other losers (heh) at her meeting that I am usually out of my house by 7 am. Before I go, I weigh myself so I am not surprised when I step on the WW scales. Then, on my way to my meeting, I stop for a grande nonfat latte at Peet’s. I don’t even take one sip until I have stepped off the WW scale. I play games with weighing like that. I’d rather hear my stomach grumbling near the end of the meeting, saying “where the hell’s my Shredded Wheat, woman?!” than add any extra ounces to my body by breakfasting before my official weigh-in.

The lovely ladies at The Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans have their weigh-ins on Wednesdays. This is perfect for me because it will give me a half-way point before my Weight Watchers weigh-in, for me to check my progress. Some people say you shouldn’t weigh yourself more than once a week (if even that much). Most say not to weigh yourself daily. Well, I weigh myself every single day, in my jammies, before I eat breakfast. I just like the affirmation that I am still out of the 140s, where I was stuck for so long. Don’t even get me started on the 150s. That was serious suckage.

Since joining the Sisterhood (I sound like a nun now), and starting the 30-Day Shred challenge with them, I feel so energized. Sure I get support and motivation from my Weight Watcher leader and meeting buddies, but for some reason, I hold myself more accountable online. People can see me here. So if I put my weight here, and next week it goes up, well, it is possible that the ENTIRE INTERNET will know about it. (Chances are fairly slim that everyone in the Internet universe would stop here at my blog, but I’m putting it out there for all to see.)

So today is my first weigh-in at the Sisterhood. Today’s weight is:

Look at that. I bolded it and everything. And in a block quote. For some reason, I don’t have trouble telling people who I cannot see how much I weigh. Even though there are people I know in real life that come here and can see that, I’m ok with it. And yes, I am counting that tenth of a pound. Weight Watchers does, so I do too. And my scale (a Weight Watchers scale) also measures tenths of a pound.

I’m much less sore tonight than I was on Monday night after my first day of the 30-Day Shred. I’m sure the soreness will dwindle as I go on, too. I have so much energy during the day because I wake up at 6 and do the workout and then start my day. I’ve also noticed that my cravings for unhealthy foods have all but disappeared since I started working out again. My body must finally get it. Why would I work it out so hard and force it to lift and squat and jump and stretch and then put crap into it? That sort of defeats the purpose, don’t you think? And besides, I don’t want to be doing all this working out and saying on my blog, “look at me! I’m joining others in an effort to be healthy and lose weight. Today I ate a bag of potato chips and two pints of ice cream! I can do that, because I did the 30-Day Shred today!” I suck at math, but even I know the numbers won’t add up in my favor with that way of thinking.

I’ll check in again with my weight next week, and every Wednesday. If you want to come join us and slim down for summer, please do! The more the merrier, as they say.