Re-evaluating Goals, Or, Upping the Ante

 You know when you go to the doctor because you are sick, or more likely with someone like me, you did something stupid and hurt yourself?  They ask you to rate your pain on a scale to one to ten, or, if you're a kid they ask you to point to the degree of sad face you are.

11.  Or, more accurately, 11-million.

Average Joe and I had a conversation on friday-ish about changing my goals--because as you remember I was supposed to sleep well, and well, not jiggle so much.

What I didn't realize is that he would, in fact, take that conversation to heart, and go medieval on my ass today.  And I mean that seriously -- he went medieval...on...my ass.

 It was a leg day, after all.

By the time he had finished, I could barely walk--even after interrupting the work-out to tell him I had an interview tomorrow and would therefore be wearing heels.  How bad you ask?

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A bit scary considering my legs are now jello, but it's all about appearances in interviews, and in my line of work. Don't worry there are some tasteful slacks that cover much of those cuties, and mine are leather, not suede.   I do, after all, live in Washington, where it rains 9 months out of the year.  Not really--but I like that line from "Sleepless in Seattle."

"Oh," he said, thoughtfully, as I explained I would need to walk tomorrow.  "Well, I guess you're kinda screwed.  Keep going, you have 8 more squats to do, and that last one didn't count since you could talk."

We actually had a philosophical discussion about how many levels of hell there are, mid- lunges.  He insisted on 7, but I went with "Dante's Inferno," and he made me keep working because he said if there are 9, I have to work harder to get down there.

It's icy down there.  And, for traitors, damn it.

Awesome.

I finished the weights with him, but we had planned on doing the weigh in and body fat crap so we could clearly define, in numeric terms, my goals.  His goals, let's be honest.

Well, alright, I am just going to have to kill myself to do 45 minutes on the elliptical.  But, I guess, since I am already dead, I can do it.

"You owe me an hour on the elliptical.  An hour every day from here on out."

What was that?  Are you kidding me?  He must have read it on my face.

"I am not kidding -- and no breaking it up, an hour at once.  If you stop to pee part way through, you start again at zero."

Can't I just get the surgery?

Half In The Bag

And the scale says:  same as yesterday!

Last night after my cookie binge and minimalistic dinner I decided to do 40 min on the elliptical (in my home, yo) and then some crunches and some arm weight move thingies.  Thank goodness the Big Bang Theory is on from 7 to 8pm on Fox so that I wasn't counting the seconds to the next minute on the elliptical.

When it was time for crunches I thought I was going to do all right.  When I was in my 20s (which wasn't THAT long ago) I used to do 100 in the morning and 100 before bed every single day.  I had rocking abs.  The kind that actually felt like they were made of rocks.



But last night I got to 10 and thought I had pulled something.  So I stretched and started again.  Went ok until I got to 8.  Hmmm guess its been awhile since I have used those muscles!!  I managed to do 50 total in all different positions.  I did the reverse crunch that Jillian Michaels says will get rid of that pesky fupa fat, and the oblique crunches that should shave some chub off my sides, and then the traditional ones that make me want to die.

I decided I was not going to eat anything after, that I had already eaten enough for the day, and brushed my teeth and got in bed (after showering also of course).  By 10:00 I was DYING for food.  I kept drinking water but it just wasn't cutting it.  "I wish I had a big bag of M&M's" I said to my husband, batting my eyes.  "Hannaford's is closed" are what his eyes were telling me.  Dangit.  I searched my nightstand for any morsel I might have hidden and forgotten about.  Nope.  Going to bed hungry.

Today I woke up late, didn't eat breakfast, and then went to my friend's house and drank two giant coffees with creamer that I didn't measure!  Did you know they make coffee creamer flavored like candy bars now?  GENIUS!!  Then I had some tasty wrap with cheese, turkey, carrot shavings, and honey mustard.  Oh, and before I went to her house I stopped at the grocery store and bought...........A GIANT BAG OF M&MS!!  Which I have been slowly sucking on all day long.  Probably ate about half of the bag by now.   I'm hoping that if I eat them slowly that they won't affect my metabolism.  Maybe I should ask Dr Oz about that one.

After having 1 taco for dinner with some full fatty sour cream I figured I better get on that elliptical again.  20 minutes this time due to this horrible crack in my dried up heel and about 15 situps due to my dried up abs!!

 Off to drink my matcha sensa ass tea now in hopeless hope of compensation.  Can't WAIT to see what the scale says tomorrow.

<3 Betsy

Balance, Balance, Balance

I should really be writing these in sequential order -- but, as I started a week after I 'started', oh well.

I used to run, and I use the term 'used to' very loosely.  I got out of the Army about ten years ago -- exactly ten this summer, wow has it been that long?  Good grief.  Let's see, six years in, ten years out, add 18 to that, yup, 34, so the math is correct.  But, I digress.

Exactly ten years ago, I wasn't doing much Physical Training. Lemme see, it's almost March as I write this, so ten years ago I was about a million months pregnant, with Aidan...who will be, you guessed it, ten in early May.

Back up a few years from that--before Timmy, so keep going. I used to work out hard in the Army.  I mean four or five days a week of mandatory running, push ups, sit-ups and any other medieval exercise the Army can come up with. Never, well maybe rarely, did I leave PT (Physical Training) dripping wet in sweat, and not even wanting to be near myself.

Move forward that decade plus I just mentioned, and enter Average Joe trainer.

He has me working out 6 days a week.  Four of those days I do at least 45 minutes of heavy cardio on the elliptical machine.  And when I say heavy, I mean heavy.  A cross between 45 straight minutes on high resistance, burning my thighs and ass the whole time -- of for a change up, that blasted interval training for the full 45 minutes. Two other days of the week, he ALSO has me do one-hour of intensive weight training.  I hurt just thinking about it.

Granted, even on the light days -- the cardio only days -- I leave knowing I have burned just under 400 calories ... on a bad day.

400 calories, that's about this:

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Mmmm, yellow cake with chocolate frosting. It will be the death of me. I love it so, and look at this baby, not just yellow cake with chocolate frosting--but TEN layer yellow cake with chocolate frosting.  And just for good measure, Strawberries, you know in case you didn't get enough sugar.  It's like buying the farm and going to heaven.   On the farm.  Which clearly grows strawberries and wheat for the cake. And probably has other things like sugar cane for the frosting.

Or maybe it's just a farm with a pastry chef. Count me in.

That is what I think about starting at about minute 23 on the elliptical.  While listening to Adele belt out songs.  Yeah, I will set fire to the rain while eating that.

Which brings me to my next point.

The other day I am dripping with sweat on about minute 38 of the elliptical. Yes I count those minutes.  Average Joe trainer walks, or mozies, or sashes over and gets on the elliptical next to mine, where I am panting, sweating, nearly done, and STARVED.

He looks at me like, "I want to talk," and I politely take off my earbuds--which are probably blasting some U2 song and say "hi."

"If" he says, deep in thought, "you could have anything right now, what would it be?"

Well, we're about 15 minutes (at least) into my fantasy about pumping yellow cake with chocolate frosting directly into my bloodstream, so yeah, this is a no brainer.  Even though I do honestly know it's a terrible, terrible trap.

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Yeah, it's a trap, just like that.  But, as almost 40 minutes of dripping sweat have passed, I am going ahead with 'the truth.'

"I want a yellow cake with chocolate frosting.  Not a piece, the whole cake."  (Remember that previous post about my daughter's mad baking skills?  Yeah, that's what I am up against here.)

"Ah," he says, "I see." He is now looking out into the distance (there is a fat chick in front of us) wistfully, like he is trapped deep in thought...deep thought like he may have just figured out the meaning of life, the universe and everything.

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After a brief pause, and I am not sure if he actually got to the number 42, he says: "If you have one bite, I will have you doing puke drills all week long."

Three minutes to go on the elliptical, as he get's down and goes about his business and now I have to choose a new song to push through with.

The Clash. Should I stay, or should I go.

Easy enough.

It's the diet that's killing me

Sure, sure, Average Joe works me out to death whenever we have a training session.  I often can't lift my arms or legs depending upon which type of 1-hour weight training he has concocted for me. This should be enough, right?

Let's go back to goals.  My goal: sleep better at night.

After about day 2 of training and working out on my own, goal met. I have not slept this well in years.   But let's look at this more closely. 
1) I have worked out pretty hard off and on throughout my adult life. A few months here, a few months there with long stretches between of not working out.
2) I have tried over the counter sleeping medicine, thinking that if I just got that good night's sleep, I could easily start my shape-up "tomorrow". 
3) I have never dieted in my life.   I have never been on a diet, I have not owned a scale for years--like over a dozen years.  The only time I know what I weigh is when I go into the doctors office, and even then, I look away.

So, day one with training, Average Joe weighs me and takes my body fat index or whatever it is.  I look away.  I still do not know what it is, honestly--my goal is to sleep, have more energy and gain maybe just the teensiest little focus on what I do during the day.  (Hint, this blog is not it, at all)

Then he goes over my "diet."  Diet?  What's a frickin diet?  How does one diet?  Well, I guess it's not really a diet --there are a few things out, but generally, it's a shift in how I eat, i.e., I have to eat breakfast and second breakfast.  And no sugar crap after noon.   That's the kicker.  You don't think of fruit as sugar.  Generally when I want to lose weight or slim a little, it's fruit for dessert.

Okay, makes no logical sense to me.  But he explains during our workout, the sugars and no pastas and stuff like that in the afternoons and evenings are about sleep.   I am desperate, I will try it.

So that night and every night after for the last two weeks, its no sugars (not even fruit, that's a morning only thing) in the afternoon and evenings.  Good god it's hard.  I am constantly battling myself, especially since I taught my daughter how to bake over the last couple of years.  Little lady has a knack for fancy schmancy desserts.   And carb-laden breakfasts.  And, good god can she make some mac n cheese.  Mmm, mac n cheese, I miss you so.

And it makes the WHOLE HOUSE smell like fancy schmancy desserts, after I eat my protein and veggies.

Good god how long can this go on?  But again, I DO sleep better at night, and better than I did when I worked out hard before and DIDN'T stop eating those things at night.   So maybe Average Joe has something?

Time will tell.  And tomorrow is the first weigh in again -- to check those blasted numbers. 

Fat Tuesday. And Wednesday. And probably Thursday.

Yesterday I decide to stand on the scale in my birthday suit right off in the morning before I had a chance to drop 2 coffees, a heaping bowl of maypo with chocolate chips, and whatever else came up (went down).

For the first time in a while I stepped OFF the scale smiling.  Finally at the lowest weight I've been since 2007!  Not sure how I did that.  Certainly wasn't through exercising.

So of course what is the first thing that I do with this new found skinniness?  I eat my maypo, go for a joy ride, and end up drinking a huge cup of coffee with lots of creamer and probably a hot chocolate in it. I then washed that down with a medium sized Shamrock Shake from good ol' McDongles.  Is it mint?  All I know is its green. Anyway that's 550 calories (or more) of whatever that flavor is goodness!  Don't worry, I skipped the cherry.

I felt I needed some salt also so I had a small fry.  Only what, 250 calories?  So in the span of 3 hours of finding out that I was finally only 3 or 4 pounds away from my goal weight I managed to consume around 1,000 calories!  When I got home and then felt I should eat something nutritious I had a bowl of carrot sticks with hummus.  And 2 packs of chocolate covered pomegranite thingies (100 calories each pack).  So we're up to probably 1,300 and its not even 2:00.  I'm sure I'm forgetting some snack in there somewhere.  When my husband came home asking what was for dinner I told him that I had been bingeing on fatty high calorie crap all day and that he was on his own unless he wanted to join me for a Chobani and glass of water.  

OH yeah I drank a cup of that nasty ass matcha sensa tea.  I seriously wanted to puke it right back up (the tea, not the food.) but forced myself to finish it.  Here's hoping it "ramped up my metabolism by at least 30%" DR OZ!!!  I need every percent I can get with this sweet tooth!   By 9:30pm I was nibbling on Dollar General pita chips and more hummus.  I really do not know how to feed myself, can you tell?

Today started out good but then nose dived around 1:30.  I got on the scale again to see if my deeds had done me in, but no the scale said the same happy weight as yesterday.  I vowed to keep my intake down to something around human instead of polar bear and went on doing as much housework as possible to keep my hands busy.

Then lunch time hit.  I hate that we have to eat!  If I didn't HAVE to eat I might like it more.  I hate thinking of things to eat too.  Lunch!  Bah Humbug!!!

I thought, I'll eat healthy and have some Progresso Chicken soup (80 calories) and a small bowl of tricolor pasta with "smart" butter and parmesan cheese.  Problem was, it was after 1:00 and I had last eaten at 7:30am!  All that housework had made me darn hungry!

My hands shook as I filled the pan with water for the pasta.  First I had to wait for the water to boil, and then another 10 minutes for it to cook!  That seemed like it was an hour away.  Frantically I searched the cupboards for a "snack" to hold me over.  Completely out of carrot sticks.  CRAP.  I opened the freezer and there, like a rose among dandelions, was a forgotten bag of frozen Neuman-o's.  Mint ones.

6 or 7 Neuman-o's later my pasta was done.  I looked at it, then looked at the Neuman-o's, and really wanted to just finish off the bag and say to hell with lunch.  But no, I put them back in the freezer and proceeded to eat my lunch.  That was 2 hours ago and I still have my jeans unbuttoned.  Looks like I'm skipping real dinner again tonight and stopping at the grocery store to stock up on carrot sticks.  I'm a little scared of what tomorrow will bring!  And now I am off to bring Alicia to ballet school and be surrounded by girls who really CAN control themselves. Yippee!

--Betsy

The Merits of Pain Relief Cream

I am not an old woman.  At least that's what I tell myself each morning as I slather 30 dollar "proven to fight age" cream on my face, around the eyes, under the chin, between the eyes where the age and kid furrowed brow develops.

I am also not that badly out of shape.  I mean I still have a shape after all, right?  That what I tell myself as I grease my butt to get the jeans on shortly after slathering my face with stuff that promises I will be forever 21.  The jeans do the same, until they rip in the nether-regions, that is.

So imagine my surprise, when, after just a few hours post work-out, I find myself gripping the sides of the bathroom counter along with the tub basin to ease myself into sitting on the "throne."   The ease is not really the word, although I did try to take it gracefully in stride.  Finally I just got to the point that I was gripping, screaming, and plopping down simultaneously--with my kids in the other room wondering if their mother is, in fact, having a stroke

So there I am, stuck, right next to my medicine cabinet, where  I find a tube of "pain relieving cream," which I got for free from couponing.  YEAH ME!!!

Directions: "Rub on area where you feel pain, but do not use on your eyes."  Okay, I can so do that, and what do you know my pants are already down around the ankles.  Just kidding, but easily remedied.

So I proceed to rub it on my thighs, my legs, my knees, and other areas "where I feel pain."

They should warn you not to rub it on your butt.  Nothing like a frozen to the bone butt that's still in pain--when you still may have to pee during the 8 hours of" muscle therapy," which the product says it provides.  It does not, closer to four hours of frozen butt for me.

The next morning, I apparently limp into the gym, and Average Joe is waiting for me at the door. 

"Walking a little gingerly, eh, Maggie-may."  I should have known at this moment that would become my name when inside the confines of the gym.

"Well, yeah, did you know there are muscles under your butt cheeks?"

"Oh, Maggie, yours are anything but cheeks.  'Cheek' denotes something cute, quaint."

Nice. Simply wonderful.  Lemme just push through this sadistic 45 minutes on the elliptical.
.

Daytime Television Diet Tips

*********************************Sarcasm Alert*********************************

So you're trying to lose weight.  Who isn't?  At least in America?  You've got a plethora of diets to try and fail:  Weight Watchers (now online so you can cheat at your discretion ;) ) , Atkins, South Beach, Jenny Craig, Mariah Carey (have twins and then tummy tuck), Jennifer Hudson (wait is that the same as Jenny Craig?), eDiets, iPhone apps (I admit I have 5 different ones that i consistently ignore!), and many many more!  Even grocery stores are trying desperately to keep you lean by putting ratings on certain foods to show you that an apple is healthy and a twinkie, not so much.  Because you didn't know that!

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I have decided to go with what I learn from Infomercials and Dr. Oz.  I'm a SAHM and when my little minion is napping or I just feel the need to go hide in the closet I flip through the 15 cable channels we can afford.  There is mostly a whole lotta nothing out there from after Dr Phil ends at 11am until Judge Judy comes on at 4pm!  I happened upon Dr Oz last night and learned a few important things that I think will help me with my Daytime TV Diet.

First, you need to start your day drinking a 16 oz glass of ice water mixed with a 2 oz shot of Jack Daniels.  I mean apple cider vinegar.  Somehow this "jump starts" the metabolism and helps you burn an extra 21,000 calories a day!  I mean year!  But you have to drink it every single morning.  I just ran out of "apple cider vinegar" so I guess its off to the grocery store for me!

Second, to get rid of that cellulite on the back of your hamhocks you have to rub a combo of sea salt, cayenne pepper, cinnamon, and sesame oil into it.  Hmmm I think I know what I'm having for dinner!

This is all I could find in my cupboard...think it will work?

Third, if you are feeling a little...unregular, you need to shoot saline up your netherlands and within 1-5 minutes it will "evacuate" faster than a pack of dogs on a three legged cat.  And all the cool kids are doing it.  Seriously, they told me.

Other things I'm currently doing that were influenced by me having way too much time on my hands when I should have been doing laundry or mopping the floor:

That movie Fat, Ugly, and Almost Dead.  Or something like that.  I watched it on Netflix last year and immediately wanted to buy a juicer and drink my way skinny and healthy.  But I can't afford a juicer.  And I'm pretty sure anything with kale squished in it tastes like complete ass.  I'd be dumping way too much salt in it.  Plus it takes a lot of work to chop all that crap up before you throw it in and with three kids and a house that constantly looks like its never been cleaned despite my arsenal of Shark products, who's got that kind of time??  V8 it is!

The Holy Grail of Creamer:  Jumbo Size!

I tried using Stevia in the Raw in my coffee instead of the 8 servings of CoffeeMate French Vanilla that I usually dump in.  Stevia in the Raw tastes like licking your toilet.  In a house full of men.  I'm not sure if I'm doing it wrong or what but I can't figure out how that sweetener is still on the market.  Maybe I need to burn the top of my tongue a few more times?  Truvia is not much better.  Licking a toilet in a house full of women maybe.

And an infomercial I saw once told me to weigh myself every day.  So every morning I get on the scale with my eyes closed and fingers crossed and repeat to myself "Light as a feather Stiff as a board" and then peer through one eye at the numbers.  Then subtract a pound for my hair, a pound for my pajama pants, and 10 lb for the contents of my innards and wow I'm as skinny as a super model!

For exercise I do squats while I fold laundry (Ellen), flex my abs while driving (Dr Oz), and squeeze my butt cheeks while mopping (my own idea!).  Once and a while I get to walk about .0002 mph with my 2 year old for about 100 ft.  She won't ride in a stroller so that's out.  And sometimes I power walk in the grocery store, only the perimeter of course (Dr Oz), mostly so I don't have time to stop and grab that box of Chips Ahoy taunting me from the shelf.

 Bad

Good!

Oh look its time for Dr Phil!

<3 Betsy

The first time on a balance ball, kinda...

So, you know those little half balance ball thingies?  They are actually called "Bosu Balls," and yeah, I had to google "half balance ball" to try to get the real name.  Well, Average Joe trainer, in his infinite wisdom decides he needs to find out how good my balance is, using one of these crazy contraptions.

Yeah, I can trip and fall flat on my face on flat, stable surfaces.  I have slipped and fell for no reason at all and regularly wake up with bruises I can't figure out where they came from.  So, umm, yeah, are you sure, Average Joe?

He shows me how to get on, because there is a trick when you are using the ball portion as the floor and the stable portion to put your feet on.  I slip my feet the way he says, get up on the ball and...THUD.

Yeah twisted myself around, fell all over the place, and was flat on my back after a mere 1.2 seconds on the Bosu Ball.  Fan freakin' tastic.

In his overwhelming sympathetic response, Average Joe says, "Don't worry, we only caught that on closed circuit security cameras, so when we play it back this afternoon, in and endless loop, we won't hear the thud."

Awesome.  That's why they chose Average Joe for me, I suppose.

So, I get back on the ball and he proceeds to make me do endless squats, "testing my balance" he says.   Then its inverted leg lifts or something, where you hang off the end of a perfectly good (for sitting) chair and lift your legs to your chest...all while maintaining "Captain Morgan" posture.   Meanwhile he is quizzing me on hip-flexors, and stuff like what muscles I should be using.

The rest of the leg workout is kind of a blur--I just remember being terrified of falling off the balance balls again.  Then when we finished, I felt pretty good.  1 hour down. Whoo-hoo!! I made it!

"Now get on the elliptical for 45 minutes." Average Joe adds.

Excuse, where is my excuse, I have to have an excuse here somewhere.

Goals...or something like that

So, apparently before you get started on this whole "exercise" thingy, you have to set "goals."  Which, those goals are generally related to weight loss goals.  Like, I want to lost 20 pounds or 50 pounds or something like that. Or, I want to make sure I look good in that mini-skirt, bikini, or mu-mu or something. 

So when Average Joe trainer said to me on day one: "What are your goals in this training?"  I said, "Sleep, I want you to make me sleep better."

Cue that look up like you are speaking not only a foreign language, but clearly something not of this world  look.

"Alright," I said, "I don't care about losing weight, I don't care about being able to run that 5k run in X amount of time.  I need to sleep better because I am under these mounds of stress.  If you can get me more sleep, we will consider this a success."

"Okay," Average Joe said, "Anything else?"

"Well, I suppose it would be nice to not be so squishy." 
 Reader: remember this statement, it's going to come back to haunt me.

Average Joe then went over diet with me--which isn't so much of a 'diet' its more of a switching things around based on time of day.  Something about not eating sugars and carbs (he separates sugars and crap carbs--from healthy carbs) after the lunch meal.  Lots of fruit all morning long, lots of protein, a lot of veggies in the afternoon.  Seems easy enough, right--it's just a shift after all.  JUST YOU WAIT.

What the eff, no peas or corn?? Are you kidding me?  Alright, maybe I can live with this, but probably not, because there is not much I love more than a big bowl of fruit for dessert.  "But," he says, "The carbs and sugars are gonna screw with your sleep, so don't do it."

Oh, okay.  Yeah.  That's not for getting in shape--its about the sleep.  So, I will be able to work that out then, right?

It's all because of the stress

One week ago today, I signed up for a gym.  I did this for a few reasons:

1) It's closer to my house than the Y, which is 20 minutes away (sucks).

2) I need to sleep better--seriously.

3) I am under mounds of stress, out of work for over 6 months (this time--about 1.5 years ago it was about 1.5 years long.).  My regular unemployment ended, and my couponing is just not going so well - I am stuck at about 50-60% savings.  Add to that 3 kids, a husband stationed 3,000 miles away, and finishing up a masters degree, and yeah you could say stress meter is out of control.

4) I am 34 years old.  Everyone tells you but you don't believe it: "If you don't keep up on stuff, your ass will get squshy at 30."  Yeah,over 30 and have a massive ass to lend to squishyness.  No, not really fat, just have full on apple-bottom ba-dank-a-dank.

So I walked in to sign up for the gym.  And while I was there, sale guy with glasses says: "We have a special on personal training, 3 sessions for only 99 bucks."

Well, I still had some of my tax-return.   So, yeah, I can use that swift kick in the ass a personal trainer provides.  Sign me up, oh mighty one.

They set my appointment for me, for the next morning, much to my dismay.  Although, I suppose it's why I signed up, you know swift kick in the squishy ass to get me motivated.

830 am the next morning, I show up and meet my new trainer, let's call him average joe trainer.

"Hi," he says, "I''m average joe trainer and they tell me I can work the shit out of you."

"You can try,"  I reply.

This is going to be fun.  I can just tell.