Archive for February, 2010
It’s really hard to believe I’m still going on this. I do admit to being excited that I’m almost near the end, though. Not so I can revert back to my old self, but because the goals I set for this time haven’t been the ones I really need to help me work toward that ultimate weight loss by April 2011.
Still, I amaze myself because my mind is slowly but surely moving toward better ideas (exercising even when I don’t feel like it, eating better, being knowledgeable of what’s going to help me keep my momentum). That’s a definite plus. You can never have too many allies on your side, especially mental ones 
No pop or fries
I resisted the urge of fries. We hit that corner bar after the hub’s team lost their last tournament game for the season. I was kind of hungry but not starving. The norm is to get a sandwich and fries, but instead I got the sandwich and applesauce and really didn’t regret it even when the boy and the hub had their boats of fries there. I know I can have them another time, but I don’t need them every time. If I keep eating the way I’ve always eaten, I’ll always have the same weight issues I’ve always had. (Damn, I make myself sound smart LOL).
No pop. No problem. I don’t even think I had but one diet this week.
Walking the Dogger
No dogger walking though we did play outside before we got another dump of snow last night. Another dump expected tonight. You know, that groundhog is not holding up his part of the bargain. I want spring and I want it now.
30 minutes of workouts 5/7 days
Uh…yeah. Actually, I planned at the start of the week that I would finish my Wii Active 30 Day Plan this week but alas, others had different ideas. I had meetings and games and shopping to do which leaves me little time in the evening. I just don’t/can’t exercise after about 5pm or it keeps me wide awake. Plus, that’s when I’m making dinner. I didn’t exercise any day this week (with the Wii) except today.
But I did keep my walking at lunch schedule. Every day but Weds., and that’s because I was at an all-day teacher’s meeting so it wasn’t an option. But tomorrow I plan to totally bust out and do *2* (the last two) Wii Active workouts to end this first cycle of the 30 Day Workout. Not a bad idea considering today was day 50 LOL.
Yoga/Meditation
I did do a yoga session last week. WHAT? Yep, you heard me right. After an ab workout, I rolled out the mat and fired up my favorite Rodney Yee tape. I didn’t feel like practicing on my own for some reason so I brought him along. He reminded me that my thighs have grown and that I need to do this stuff more often. I’m hoping to. I need to develop the mindset of daily practice, that’s all. Easier said than done.
All in all, a reasonable week that would have been stellar had I worked out. Ah well, there’s next week. March. Wow. Time flies…
I’ve read more diet books, articles and magazines over the course of my life than a normal functioning adult should and can spew off so many facts, tips and pieces of useless diet information it’d make your head spin.
One of the questions all of those books ask to some degree is a question I hate passionately–
“When you lose all the weight you want, what will you do with your life that you don’t do now?”
I pass this off as an underhanded way for the shrinks behind the books (none of which are EVER sporting a spare roll in their impeccably-presented back-cover publicity head shot) to get a dig in on us fat girls to make us think that our weight isn’t really a problem and that we can do anything we want.
I get the gist, the intended empowerment behind the question, but I also get pissed off because there isn’t anything I *don’t* do with my life that I want to do because of my weight. I’m not afraid of public speaking (my nerves aren’t from my fatness, they’re from my shaky voice), I don’t sit on the sidelines if I want to do something, I don’t use my fat EVER as an excuse not to participate with friends or doing anything I want to do. I just do it. I hate excuses so I avoid them for myself at all costs, and fat or no fat, there isn’t anything I’m not going to do if I want to do it.
Ummm, sorta. The one thing I physically can’t bring myself to do yet is skydive. Now, mind you, this isn’t going to be an everyday thing. I just want to do it. And yes, the weight tables say I can be up to 250 pounds. I’m under that but I am still slightly scared that if I’m not on the lower side of 200 first, I might get a faulty line. So, OK, I’ve put off skydiving. For now.
For some reason, the other day I applied this thought to the whole of my life, not just the really big things and discovered something alarming: I might live parts of my life differently if (when) I hit that skinny target. My list is only four details long at the moment but now that I’m on this line of thought, it may grow.
Curious? Of course you are or you wouldn’t have read this far. In no particular order:
1. Shorts: I’d wear ‘em. In public. Right now, my thunder thighs combine with the cellulite of family genetics to produce two horribly dimpled legs where I’d like nice legs to be. I can hack the chub rub (we’re like sisters now) but the cellulite I hate.
2. Nakie Time: (that’s pronounced “na-key” time in case this is new to you). A term coined years ago during a wonderfully wild post-summer camp skinnydipping session (wait til I tell you about that one…), nakie time in my own life doesn’t happen. By nakie time, I mean walking around naked without reservation. Mind you, this isn’t coming into play during family Christmas gatherings or the 4th of July pool party. It’s with the hubby. Yeah. Rounding the curve of 20 years of marriage and I am still, to this moment in time, petrified to let him see me completely naked. It just doesn’t happen. And if it does, by accident, I practically hyperventilate. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that mental issue gone? I can’t even imagine what it would be like to be naked anywhere but between the sheets. I just can’t. That’s pretty sad.
3. Fashion: It’s not that I’m not moderately fashionable now. I’m hip in a middle-school English teacher/mom/coach’s wife sort of way. I’m not floppy and frumpy and baggy. I’m somewhat trendy, depending on the day and the mood. But I’d like to be able to wear some of the really pretty stuff out there that my brain chides me for even looking at. The real secret is that I want to be a Kardashian sister but don’t tell my brain. It may explode. Actually, they’re gorgeous and that’s an extreme. Mildly fashionable in a refined woman sort of way will be my angle. When I get there.
4. Clothes: On the same note, I want to wake up some splendid morning and head straight to my closet without hesitation or fear and pick out the outfit that I *WANT* to wear that day, not the outfit I *FEEL* like I should wear, based on my a)bloating b)mindset c) self-hatred and loathing d) what I think I will look OK in. I buy clothes because I like them, so doesn’t it make sense that I should like wearing them? I have a couple of pieces I love but don’t have the courage to wear. We’re not talking thigh-high boots (though they would hide the cellulite…) or mini dresses, but sweaters that show a tiny bit of cleavage or a skirt that hits just above the knees. If I wear any of those things now, I have to talk myself into it for a period of no less than two weeks prior. And even then, I chicken out.
What’s really disappointing is that I think I would feel safer jumping from a plane with a parachute strapped to my back than walking around in shorts during the summer. Wonder if they have naked skydiving…..
Part of the reason I decided to make my weight-loss diary public this time around, aside from the beautifully sadistic, self-induced public humiliation potential offered inherently through social media these days, is because I feel compelled to “think out loud” about why I’m here, at this point, in my life, at this time. And for what reason–but that might not come until I’m gone.
I’m tired of thinking all this stuff in the private of my own journals and diaries. Journals and diaries, yes, plural, meaning “more than one” (a grammatical fact my 6th graders have difficulty grasping no matter how often I reteach it). My first diary, a gold-edged beauty with “Diary” in elegant script right above the completely ineffective but cutesy key lock (rendered useless by the slide button to its left), a relic of the 3rd grade era, circa 1981, holds what may possibly be the earliest recorded self-hatred of my current body–the first in a sweeping saga of written accounts of how much I wanted to be (to the point of selling my soul for a can of Coke and a pouch of Pop Rocks) a skinny girl. I’ve written pages, more than enough for a series of novels, drawn illustrations, had dialogue, created “wish pages” with cutouts of girls I wanted to be when I “got skinny”. (Funny enough, I never dreamed much about “growing up”, just “getting skinny”). Looking over the Rubbermaid plastic tub full of these gems has taught me two lessons:
1. Writing in private is accomplishing nothing.
2. Fat girls are like onions
An explanation of number one isn’t necessary. All I do is write, rewrite, lament, cry, whine, hate and come back to writing about why I’m still shopping in the women’s and not the misses sections.
For number two, you may have a niggling voice in the back of your mind telling you you’ve heard that before, somewhere. You have–from Donkey. Remember when he and his best bud Shrek set out on their now-infamous trek across the Swamp and all Creation to reach Princess Fiona and Donkey wants to figure out his newfound companion? He offers Shrek the thought that ogres are like onions (and parfaits, a far tastier but much more calorie-dense comparison). Shrek might disagree where his ilk are concerned, but the more I think about my life as a fat girl at this time-and-place, the more I think Donkey meant to say that fat girls are like onions.
The biggest reason is that like onions, we have layers of hatred and disdain for ourselves all related to our weight issues. We didn’t wake up at age four and hate the chub rub under our Garanimal dresses, but at that point we knew we were slightly different than the girls who had twig legs that looked as if they’d snap under the weight of a heavy pair of tough kid corduroys. We’ve had life experiences skinny girls haven’t had that make us rethink ourselves, that create in our brain a sort of onion skin layer around a dark core capable of bringing us to tears. Some of those layers are created by things our families do or say, others by things we observe around us, life choices we have to make, comparisons we make to ourselves, society’s expectations and disappointments, hormones, genetic dispositions, minimal self-confidence, a media obsession equating waist size with the quality of the woman beneath. For each event or thought we subject ourselves to (or are subjected to) that undermines our love for ourselves, a thin layer of onion skin is created. Each time that thought is reinforced through actions or words–those of ourselves or others–the onion skin thickens.
Imagine almost 40 years of this onion-skin building…and the size of the onion I’m attempting to peel. Yikes. You’re gonna need a gas mask to cut into the heart of this baby. (And no, Martha Stewart, freezing the onion before cutting DOES NOT make you cry less. It just makes the onion slippery and slimy).
Now, for the good comparisons: we can be peeled. One tiny bit at a time, we can pull off one thickened onion petal and, through careful examination, discover the inherent and useful value of that bit of thought regarding ourselves. We can choose to toss it into the garbage disposal or set it aside. I remember one of my earliest experiences in science class with a microscope–examining cells in a sliver of onion. That’s the kind of introspection we’re talking here. Peeling off a layer and blaming it on someone (self or others) isn’t going to get to the core of who I really am, but trying to examine exactly why I’m here and why I’m the way I am is what’s going to get me motivated and going in the right direction.
It’s going to be hard work and it’s going to make me cry, like real onions. It will be dirty, smelly and scary. But the potential of discovering the real me–hidden by layers of journals, diaries and life experiences–is exciting to me. I want to know why I’m fighting this and why I put so much value into my weight determining how I feel about myself when I know damn well that lots of other areas of my life are really fabulous–so why does my pants size negate all that?
I’m really out of good, useful onion analogies, so I’ll leave you with this: you can either use them to bring out the flavor of whatever you’re making or keep burping them up–it’s your choice.
You know, that I’ve kept updating my progress (and, more importantly, been seeking to make progress) for seven weeks is nothing short of miraculous in and of itself. I don’t normally give up on my NY Resolutions, I just normally don’t set them. But the New Year came at just the right time to provide me with the incentive that I needed, so I ran with it for once. Let’s see where it’s gotten me.
No fries or pop.
Now, after all my crowing and strutting about not eating or liking fries, I treated myself last night to some. Hubby’s basketball season is over and we went out for one last dinner at the only place who has GOOD fries. You know, those skinny, burning hot ones just like the ones at the fair you slather with salt and vinegar? Yeah. Those ones. I treated myself to a basket of those (shared with the hubby) in honor of his season. Here’s the rub: Those are really the only fries I like, and that will probably be the last time we visit that bar until maybe once or twice in the summer when they open their patio. I’m not seeing this as a setback or a failure, I’m seeing it in terms of the dieter’s lifetime mantra: everything in moderation. I ate them with the full knowledge that today, I’m going to be eating very light (hubby gone all day for basketball tournament scouting duties) and the kid and I are munchers, not meal eaters. I might have a few bowls of cereal today and call it three squares. I’m also planning two workout sessions and, if it gets decent outside, a walk with the dogger. (WOOHOO!) So I fit those fries into my plan and am not looking back at all.
Pop–no worries. Only had one diet soda this week.
Walking the Dogger–touched upon. Will attempt today. The temps are going up, the piles of snow melting down (from 4 feet to 3 feet LOL) so the hope that spring will be here in the next few weeks is a high-riding hope in both her heart and mine. Mental note: don’t make dog walking a goal in the winter months. Just plain stupid.
30 Minutes of Workouts 5/7 Days a Week
January and February are basketball months and I haven’t been completely true to the 5/7 days part. Some weeks it’s 3 days, some 2, but what’s important to me is that I haven’t completely tossed aside exercising once I hit the first bump in the road. I’m an all-or-nothing perfectionist, meaning that if I set a goal and I hit one snag on the way, I just give up. I don’t reassess, I don’t do my best to get around it and go on–often, I just give up (with a lot of internal bitching and moaning to go along with it.) This year, I’ve really set my mind on NOT allowing that to happen and I’m proud to say that despite weeks with one workout or only two, I have kept going, picked up the slack and not let myself down in terms of working out. Of course, it’s helping that I’ve lost about ten pounds and a couple of inches, so I can see the progress that I’m making even if my mind is stuck viewing the failures of not meeting the ‘per-week’ goal.
Basketball season has only tournaments left, which means hubby’s team will have two games maximum. This is great for me because it means I can refocus my efforts on MYSELF and my workout plan, not traveling to games and doing all the stuff the coach’s wife has to accomplish.
Yoga/Meditation.
You know what I’ll say. I’m sucking here, and sucking beyond bad. I’m not too angry with myself, though. My daily schedule just hasn’t cooperated. I think what this will take is some pre-planning on my part. I have the thought that I’ll just unroll the mat at a random time every day and it never happens. But, if I approach it the way I’ve been approaching the workout plan, it might very well gain steam and become the part of my day that I want. Again, with all the time constraints of the basketball season slowly ebbing away, I will have time again to work on myself, and this needs to be factored in to that equation.
Nothing much else to report. I didn’t weigh myself on the Wii this week–this week was a strange one all around. I’ll be mustering the courage to step on the balance board next week so I’ll bring back some type of report. Maybe even tomorrow but don’t count on it…
When you see a fat girl, what do you think?
“Ugh. I hope she doesn’t sit next to me.”
“What is she thinking, eating that (insert any food here)? She should be starving herself.”
“I’m so glad that’s not me.”
“She should be ashamed to be alive/be wearing that dress/be out in public…”
When you see a fat girl, what do you think she’s thinking?
I wish I could answer this with an equally glib list of mental thoughts, but the truth is, it’s a trick question. You can never know what a fat girl is thinking unless you’ve been a fat girl. And by fat, I don’t mean all you skinny bitches in the crowd bemoaning the fact that you’ve got to lose “those last ten pounds” or those of you who believe that the Special K Diet is a real godsend around January 1st every year. I mean girls with an X after the number on their clothes tag, girls whose butts fit snugly in an average chair, girls who find themselves in the high twenties (and higher) on the BMI charts.
Girls who hate themselves because society around them has stripped them of the title of “woman” and slapped them instead with the all-loving moniker of “fat girl.”
We know what you think of us–us obese, pork-rind munching, Coca-Cola swilling gluttons that we are who don’t really deserve a second glance–but do you ever wonder what we think of ourselves?
Not to worry, friends. There’s a chip (brain-programmed, not potato) in every one of us fat girls that serves as a two-way radio for your criticisms and judgments to come through loud and clear. We hear you tell us we shouldn’t be eating “that” (which amounts to just about anything aside from celery sticks and water), that we aren’t really beautiful if we can’t cram ourselves into a single-digit size, that the bigger we get, the more disgusting the print should be on the fabric of the clothes we buy, that we have no right to expect men to be nice to us because there are so many other skinny girls out there to impress. That we’re second-class citizens and should be glad you give us disgusted side glances. (Please, ma’am, may I have another?)
What you may not know is that the chip translates your smarmy, self-serving, rude thoughts into our own voice inside our heads–and, despite technological advances that allow us to program our DVRs from our phone during a bank robbery, there is no known way to turn these hateful voices off. You can be assured that rarely is there a moment of our waking hours each day that aren’t filled with hearing your comments in our own voice.
From the moment we wake up, we’re assaulted by a barrage of self-doubting, self-loathing voices. From within our own heads.
“You’re going to wear that? You’ll look like the Sta-Puft marshmallow girl.”
“Pearls make your neck look fat.”
“Walk by mirror fast. Don’t look.”
“You really deserve to eat a bowl of cereal?”
“You’re not taking that for lunch, are you?”
“If you even think about a donut, you’re a loser.”
“Imagine what the kids see when you’re writing on your white board.”
“At least your ass isn’t as big as hers.”
“You’re only giving up your lunch period to walk and not your planning period, too?”
“Eating your apple AND soup for lunch is going to make you fatter.”
“Your ass is NOT getting smaller. The mirror is getting dirtier.”
“What do you mean, you want fifteen minutes to yourself before you work out?”
“Did you do enough today to earn dinner? Or should you just have water instead?”
“Only 500 calories burned? You should be ashamed.”
“Maybe tomorrow you’ll do a better job of starving yourself and losing weight.”
“Those pajamas make you look fat AND sloppy.”
“Why am I not surprised you’re still a size 16, loser?”
(Please note I’ve edited for brevity, content and offensive language. While this isn’t a family blog, lots of F-bombs might get me blacklisted.)
While the list is linear, the comments are circular and constant. Sort of like a mind-tornado, attempting to suck us and our precious self-worth and self-confidence into the vortex of the crapper. Being a fat girl has added a dimension to me over the years that skinny girls don’t have: the voices.
Fat girls can’t do anything–and by that I mean anything–without some type of voice reminding us of our shortcomings. I’d like to follow this with a pithy comment about how I first remember the voices coming into my life, back in and around the 4th grade, but I’ve forgotten. I’m sure they had the sound of Patti’s voice, possibly Grandma Alice’s, maybe another well-meaning but critical adult at first, a startling intrusion into my assumably placid ten-year old thoughts (Oh, he’s cute! Oh, he’s cute! Oh, I can make a fortune teller! Oh, how do I make a cursive S again? Oh, he’s cute!), but then, with repeated exposure, the voices evolved into a part of me I just expected and, in a strange way, comfort me. I can’t make a food, weight or life decision without second-guessing myself these days.
Even though I’ve gone down approximately ten pounds since January (depending on the weighing apparatus du jour), those voices hound me around every single curve and taunt me from every dark corner. There’s even a new dimension to them: sucker! Not only are they laughing and criticizing me, they’re making light of the work I’ve put in to starting one final weight loss journey. They’re sure I’ll fail. They’re convinced of it. After all, if I wasn’t born skinny and haven’t lived much of a skinny life (except that one miraculous size 10 year when I subsisted on carrots, water and five-mile jogs that seems more a fog than a piece of my own reality), what right do I have to expect I’ll ever lose this weight?
I started the journey (again) to lose this weight as a gift to myself on my 40th birthday (so much nicer than a double scoop of self-loathing with that scant piece of birthday cake) and wanted to free myself from the dregs of shopping the plus-sized clearance racks, but in the last few weeks I’ve discovered another goal: to make the voices stop. I can’t even imagine what a quiet, peaceful day in my mind sounds like. I’m sure it’ll be jarring at first, like my friends (or so they say) have abandoned me, but at that point I’ll get the best gift of all from them: silence to hear my own true thoughts.
I don’t know if it will really work like that, if they will *REALLY* take a hike for the long-term, but in my opinion, it’s worth a try. I hope my only question at that point is how to reprogram that chip to hear myself and not others…(instead of…”where’s the guacamole?”)
So, yeah. Remember me? The one who owns this blog? Yeah. Bet you thought I got lost in a sprinkle factory, huh? Heck, I don’t blame you. It certainly would have been a much more exciting two week missing span of time in my life to discuss–unfortunately, it’s not.
Again on the mysterious bent, let’s just say that as of today, February 16th, I think the worst of the surprises to my personal life will be at a minimum. Yes, of course, I realize that I’ve just jinxed myself and invited all kinds of horrible things to befall my path. However, given the two issues I’ve just survived over the last 30 days and lived to tell about, not much can shock or pin me down the way these two have, at least in terms of my personal life that is.
And no, I won’t tell you what. Maybe later, maybe in another couple of months when I feel able to discuss them, but for now you’re just going to have to deal with the secrecy.
What I find most interesting (aside from the fact that both events happened on the 10th–one on the 10th of January, one on the 10th of February–dear god, look out March 10th…) is that I didnt’ give up my weight-loss pursuit as a result. In the past it would truthfully take one-quarter the amount of life distress to make me flee my diet plans and run to the nearest Jolly Pirate (sadly at the end of my street, across from the Tim Horton’s) and drown my cursed luck in a vat of Boston Cream. Something is different this time, something that pulled me back and made me remember–hey, you’ve made progress (almost 10 pounds lost since the start of the year, three workouts weekly, being mindful of what goes in the old piehole). Don’t let some idiot’s bad decisions (which do ultimately affect you) that had nothing to do with you ruin YOUR GOALS.
I actually took ownership of my weight loss goals this time around. While I can’t control what people do, say or lie about, what I realized is that I ***I*** can (and need to) control my own actions. And when I aligned my actions and thoughts to losing sixty pounds (more or less) by my 40th birthday next year, I determined that nothing external can get in the way of that. That’s my constant. My escape and my resolve. I can’t make people tell me the truth, I can’t make them realize how much they’ve hurt me but I can make myself work out when I feel like crying, can limit what I eat to healthy foods, can add a twenty minute powerwalk to my lunch time at school.
I’ve never been a fan of (or friend with, for long) people who constantly say “I can’t”. Honestly, it gets on my nerves. If you want something bad enough, you will. If you can’t, you’re not trying hard enough or going in the right direction. Granted, I’ve said “I can’t” plenty of times, but not when it comes to something I want. I’m stronger than that. Smarter. More clever than that. If I think I can’t, then I can’t. If I think I can but it will be hard, I need to find ways around the “can’t” part of the equation.
Right now, my way around the problems in my personal life are teaching me that people are not what they seem, that truth is evidently subjective to interpretation and that what you think you want may not be what you want. But my way around is also forcing me to take the only action to improve myself that I know how–eating healthy and exercising–which I know without reservation will serve me best in the long run, no matter how other things shake out.
Can I be honest? I’m putting 5 & 6 together because these past two weeks I really haven’t been able to remember much of anything–least of all what I’ve done workout-and-diet wise.
I probably could if I’d have kept up the stickers-on-the-calendar approach, but most of the last 14 days is a blur and not for a good reason.
What I find most important to report is that I really didn’t stray too far from goals. In addition to personal issues, the last two weeks were literally the busiest of the year (for all of 2010 I’ll bet) in terms of things to do and places to go. Snow days caused the hubby’s basketball team to reschedule games, in a one-week span, on a Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. Add to that a parent-teacher conference (to which I only had one parent show up…disappointing), training a new student teacher, a holiday I hate passionately and another smashingly busy week of games and more conferences, and it’s a wonder I’m even alive to give a report.
But I am. Forgive the brevity of my points here but I want to keep up appearances
I did have fries, once, the Friday after the second “bomb” dropped on me. I had about ten fries from my kid’s dinner and yes, I did it with the full knowledge of what I was doing. I am an emotional eater and it was easier to stuff those things down than resist. I didn’t enjoy them and probably won’t eat any more again.
No pop.
Dogger isn’t getting walked until May. We’ve got about 4 feet of snow outside from a wicked storm and our streets aren’t even plowed. That was a dumb goal. Good for dogger, dumb taking the season into account. I’ve promised her I’ll make it up to her in the spring. We walk practically every day from spring to winter so she’s not too angry.
Working out–when I can. If I have an open evening I work out. I don’t know what that’s amounted to over the past two weeks–maybe four workouts total. I am working out with the Wii, still, Wii Active in specific, so Bob Greene’s whiny voice makes me feel all kinds of guilt when I don’t give my all. Wish he’d never heard of squats and lunges, but what can you say?
I’m cheating myself on the yoga. Yes, no time, as indicated above, but no real gumption to do it. I really think meditation would be more beneficial for me given my current issues but I have done neither. Freaking slacker.
I’m looking forward to the end of this ten week challenge and the start of a new one (yes, a new one). My goals seem sorta out of touch with what I need to do and need readjusting. Just like my life. If only life came in easily digestable ten week chunks….
Wow, hard to believe I’ve stuck to any kind of resolution for more than the time it takes me to take a nap. While I’m not seeing the quantity of results thus far, I am seeing results. Luckily, that keeps me slightly motivated. That and fear of humiliation created by social media pressure here at the blog.
I’ve decided to change two of my initial goals. Yes, I know–we were to stick to them through the ten week period but I really feel they’ve changed permanently for me, and frankly, they’re too easy. So today will be my last fry and soda report. After today, I’ll be changing them to something that should help my results, even if minimally, toward even more health benefits. Read on to find out…
Eliminate fries and soda from my diet.
Done and done, with ease. I’ve had so much success I thought maybe I should put “candy” or “chocolate” in their place but that’s not going to happen. What I’m swapping in is “two ab workouts a week.” Yes, I could do three or four, but the next few weeks are ridiculously busy for me, so two will suffice. I’ll add a third when things settle down, probably the last week of February.
The workout plan I’m on (Wii Active 30 Day Calendar, if anyone cares) doesn’t seem to have an abs component. Sad and odd, so I need to supplement it with my own. I have several ab workouts as well as loving FitTV workouts. That’s realistic for me.
Walk the Dogger Daily
Woefully inadequate this week, when temperatures were below zero for most of the week. Not an excuse, but it’s not enjoyable and I compensated by wrestling with her for fun. This week it’s supposed to warm up, so I’m hoping that leads to a few more walks. Probably not the smartest goal to set in the winter. Duly noted for next year.
30 Minutes of Workouts 5 of 7 Days a Week.
I did five workouts this week, though Wii Active only recorded four since we had a power surge that shut things down about 25 minutes into the workout. I am feeling a difference from the Wii Active. Legs are feeling stronger, more flexible and the shoulders and arms are as well. Movement feels good. I’ve been extremely loyal to my lunchtime 20 minutes of walking at school, too. Even on the day I got a new student teacher I walked. No excuses not to.
15 minutes of yoga/meditation 5 of 7 days.
Yikes. You probably see the theme of “I wish I could, but” in this slot. I am stretching much more but I wouldn’t necessarily classify it as yoga. I am making a more deliberate effort to start and end my days with some positive ruminations, so if you’re being technical, that could be considered meditation. I wish I had a decent yoga studio nearby to make this easier. I really do miss yoga.
I’ve also decided to add a little extra to the posts: my weight. Actually, that’d be a lot of extra, if you think about it. Today’s Wii Fit Plus reading was 335.0. Down from the 348 (Dear god, say it isn’t so….) of several weeks ago, but not as much progress as I’d like to have made (and feel I’m making). My goal is another half-pound by next Monday, but I am hoping to blow that out of the water with a reading under 333. My first major goal is to hit 200. At 200, I’m good. I liked myself at 200 before. Enough so that I didn’t really work to get any lower….then. Times have changed and I want to ultimately end around 160. Sounds like a lot to you girls who have legs the size of my fingers but for me, that’s going to be as healthy as I can get. I can’t even imagine what I’ll look like then. I like 200. Maybe I’ll just stay there…