October 1, 2009

I’m working on it

I have this problem with pants in that they never fit me right. I mean never. I’m not talking about the length of them either. I’ve probably mentioned this before, but if pants fit my hips, butt and thighs they are huge in the waist. They’re so huge I could probably carry my camera in the back of them (and I have a DSLR). A size that would fit my waist wouldn’t go over my butt because I am so out of proportion. I consistently buy pants that don’t fit because there is no such thing as a pair that will fit my body.

Yesterday I bit the bullet and took two pairs of new pants from Ann Taylor Loft (regular price $60, on sale for $20!) to have the waist taken in to fit me. This tailor has a great reputation and a friend who has a similar issue takes her pants there all the time. I was confident they could get these pants to fit my body and I was willing to pay whatever it cost.

I tried on the pants in the fitting room and came out, my arms folded low on the waist to keep the pants from gaping obnoxiously. I stepped on the carpeted nook in front of the mirror and lifted the hem of my sweater so the nice Russian lady could see my dilemma. There was so much of a gap, she could see straight down the gap to my purple chonies. She grabbed a handful of waistband and said in a thick accent, “Ah yes, classic body,” as she pinned the extra fabric. I smiled inside and wanted to hug her. Oh, and she might have said “classic booty,” her accent was that thick. I do know that having a small waist and a healthy dose of junk in the trunk is not very classic. Because if it is, Ann Taylor and her other designer friends would make pants that fit me. And they don’t. Some brands even make “classic fit” styles and ha! No way, no how are they going over this classic booty.

(I just realized that I got Ann Taylor pants tailored. Har de har.) The pants will be ready early next week and I can’t wait to see how they fit.

If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile you know all about my quest to reach my driver’s license weight, and that I get up at o’dark thirty to go to boot camp every day. My buns of steel aren’t quite there yet, and I don’t have a six-pack but if you see me I will offer you my stomach to punch so you can feel my two-pack. I’ll never have Michelle Obama’s arms, but I’d like to have tighter Catheroo arms. The point is that I’m trying. And I have toned and firmed here and there and I love that. Psycho as it is, I really love getting up in the dark every morning. No! Really, I do! At the beginning of our workouts I get to look up at the moon and stars. I can see the Little (or is it the Big) Dipper while we warm up. The air is so crisp and clean and we’re all out there sweating like pigs while most of the world is just waking from a good night’s sleep.

The best part is when I drive home. Until we set the clocks back, I get to see the sun rise in front of me:
Good morning, sunshine!
So beautiful.

Some of the list below is redundant, but I want to show that I’m still doing it. Losing weight and getting healthy isn’t a quick-fix. It’s a lifestyle change. I really don’t remember how I used to eat back when I weighed more than 150 pounds.

Aside from the exercise, here are some of the changes I’ve made and continue to keep in my routine:

  • No more Starbucks (I’m more of a Peet’s girl anyway). No pumpkin spice lattes, not even a nice hot cup of plain old coffee. Jasmine green tea and water are all I drink on a daily basis. Too much caffeine makes me really jittery and a little wacko in the head.
  • I must have 7 hours of sleep at a minimum. If not, I miss boot camp. If I miss boot camp I get very grumpy. You wouldn’t like me when I’m grumpy. Often my sleep requirements cut into my Glee or Biggest Loser time, but that’s why DVRs were invented – to allow ME to see my shows and sleep. Thank you, DVR inventor guy!
  • Water, water, water. I fill my SIGG 1-liter bottle three times a day. I drink my water, I drink it up! And yes, I also pee all the damn time. This offers me the joy of seeing weird restroom habits at work which I will address in a future post.
  • I limit carbohydrates like bread and cereal to pre- and post-workout meals only. I need carb energy for boot camp and I replenish lost nutrients after workouts but I really try to stick to early morning only. I get healthy carbs throughout the day from veggies and fruits and brown rice or other whole grains. Do you realize how hard this is when I just received some goodies from here?
  • Eating whole/clean. Most of what I eat (aside from pre- and post-workout time) has no package. I focus on vegetables, fruits, eggs, and lean meats. OK so the meat comes in a package, but I ain’t killing and plucking my own chickens and wild Alaskan salmon doesn’t swim in the suburbs.
  • No, no, no refined sugar. I don’t even eat the fake sweetener stuff. One hint of sugar or a substitute and I go off the deep end. When I do crave some sugar I allow myself two Trader Joe’s dark chocolate wedges at a tiny 70 calories. Dark chocolate has anti-oxidants you know, so this is a perfectly legal snack food. I have been known to not stop at two wedges, but continue until I have eaten an entire layer of eight. And then I am filled with guilt and self-loathing and that kind of blows. So yeah, I try to avoid the sweet stuff.

So that’s what I’m doing. I’m not focusingtrying not to focus on weight as much as I am on sticking to my new lifestyle. The weight is coming off slowly but surely and I’m just 5 pounds shy of the next “decade” of weight on the scale. I want to see that second number on the scale change. I know it will…eventually.

I apologize for this post being all over the place. But it’s my bedtime and I didn’t have a chance to make it flow real well.

March 29, 2008

Letter to my body

It took me awhile, but I finally got around to this.

Dear Body,

I don’t appreciate you. Except when I really need you. And that’s not even appreciation. It’s taking you for granted. Also, I never actually thanked you for all you did for me in my first half marathon. I pushed you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. And you persevered for 13.1 miles. Sure I gave you walking breaks, but even those were hard on the feet. So thank you from the bottom of our heart, for sticking with me for 3+ hours. I know I hurt you that day. You reminded me for the next two, every time I tried to rise from my chair. But I hydrated you and gave you rest and ice, and we both recovered. Just a warning: we’re going to be doing that again this summer. So get ready.

Now. I need to get some things off our chest. Speaking of that, the boobage area is rather un-big for my liking. There’s nothing I can do about that, aside from having a doctor slice it open and put silicone-filled balloons in there. But I’d rather spend the money on a vacation, or a Nikon camera, or put it in the house fund. Plus, it’s not entirely your fault, but that of genetics. Thanks small-boobed ancestors. I’ll be writing to you later.

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