Update: I have discovered something that's harder for me to do as a thinnish person than a chunkier person.
RUNNING.
For reals, though. Could I run at 363lbs? Hell naw. But last summer when I was about 250, I could slog out some intervals and be fine. I hated it, but it was do-able.
Now, however...yeesh. Remember my last post about extra skin? Soooooo...it makes running painfully difficult. Because things bounce around that wouldn't if they didn't have extra skin room to bounce in. It hurts. And compression gear can only take me so far (unless I legit wear it from neck to wrists and down to mid calf).
Shit.
The good news: I can pretty much bail on running. Ever.
The bad news: I pretty much can't run. Ever.
#sadpanda??
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Friday, December 9, 2016
Skin
I've seen tons of people on various Facebook groups I lurk on, as well as Instagram feeds, blogs, etc, say one of the reasons they're scared to lose weight is because of extra skin.
Well, kids, I'm living it. So let's talk.
As of today, I'm down 161.6 lbs from my heaviest weight. I weighed 201.4 lbs this morning. I'm getting to the point where I like the way my body looks in clothes. My shoulders are looking really nice. My ass is bangin. I wear leggings as pants because I want to catch glimpses of my own booty in mirrors and windows. It's that good.
But.
BUT.
Nakey...yowza. My body pretty much looks like a melted ice cream cone. My belly and boobs have deflated like a week-old circus balloon animal. Even my thighs and upper arms have some extra skin. Nobody tells you when you start losing weight...things don't shrink, they deflate. If I bend over and flex my abs, it looks like I have an extra set of jugs from how much belly skin is there. I'm not even joking...my husband and I laughed about it for like an hour the other day. This isn't a slam on myself, it's a straight up fact, and I like to lighten it with humor in an effort to be less ashamed of it. Extra skin is a fact of weight loss life. But it's not pretty.
Am I prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin? No.
Will I ever be prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin? Probably no.
If you ask me nicely in person, will I show you? No, in fact I'll probably cut you.
If you really want to see extra skin that bad, just do a google search. I guarantee one of the thousands of images looks similar to me.
But anyway...
Imagine that you (literally) work your ass off for weeks, months, years, to get healthy and feel beautiful or get stronger or get off meds or whatever your personal motivations are to lose weight. And your body can do some amazing stuff that it couldn't do before. It looks better in clothes than ever before. It's stronger than it's ever been before. But that extra skin is still lurking there and reminding you of your former self, the damage you did to your body, and how worthless and unattractive you used to feel. Nothing will make you feel less sexy and pretty and successful in your efforts than people commenting on it.
I've been asked, repeatedly, by well-meaning friends, if I will ever have skin removal surgery. At this point, I don't really have enough to necessitate a surgical procedure. Plus, the extremely few people who see me nakey either don't care and love me anyways and can laugh about it with me (the huzzband) and/or can go fuck themselves if they don't like what they see (random locker room people, I guess?). Also...I don't have $20,000 extra dollars to spend on an elective surgery, soooooo...I'll reconsider if it ever causes me health problems.
I'm trying to use my saggy belly and newly unfortunate breasts and elephant skin wrinkly legs as motivation and a reminder of how far I've come. I'm trying to see it as evidence of my accomplishments. I'm trying to see it as beautiful, but this is one of the biggest mental hurdles I've had to face/cross/jump over/whatever during this process. It's a challenge and it may never happen.
But.
BUT.
I did a 5k in May. Yes, I walked like 85% of it. But two years ago, there is no friggin way I could have even walked a mile without wanting to die, let alone a 5k.
I hiked an average of 25-40 miles a week with friends this summer. Could or would I ever have done this before? I would have wanted to, but there's no way I could have.
I discovered a love for yoga. I never would have even tried a class before, because I was too embarrassed about my body and lack of flexibility. I hate to sound cliche, but this has put me in tune with my body and what it wants and needs better than anything else I've ever done. It's taught me to breathe through pain (mental and physical) and that I can tough out uncomfortable things, and the end result is worth the discomfort and work. It has taught me to take up the space I need and to be present in my body and mind. Holy crap, am I grateful for yoga.
I PRed an assload of lifts this year. Are my numbers impressive? Hahahaha no. Does it matter? No, because I lifted heavier shit than I ever have before. And I can lift way more now than I could when I was heavier (which is counter intuitive to me, but whatevs).
I can shop for clothes in almost any store I want to. It's hard to get used to this. I'm used to purchasing whatever garments I can find in my size regardless of whether I liked them or whether they were comfortable or flattering, because my options have been so limited in the past.
Ok, so my body looks weird naked. Yes, I still feel a lot of body shame and frankly, I feel way sexier with my clothes on than off. But would I go back to being 363 lbs, not able to do most of the things I want to do, not able to fit in an airplane seat without a seatbelt extender and a prayer, only able to order ugly old ladyish clothes online, get short of breath walking up a flight of stairs, not be able to give my dog the exercise he needs, not be able to hike and see beautiful places, not be able to feel comfortable doing yoga, have to take blood pressure medications, not be brave enough to tell street harassers to fuck off, and be sad?
Would I have spent my entire life being thin, and thus not had to worry about extra skin at all? Perhaps. But I know how strong I am because I've had to work for every pound off my body and on the bar. Every extra rep, every extra second in an uncomfortable yoga asana, every extra jogged step...I know that every single choice I make every single day has the power to bring me closer to or further from my goals. I feel like others who may have had easier lives physically or been appreciated aesthetically or been considered conventionally attractive for their entire lives don't necessarily appreciate what they have and how easy they have it in some ways.
So what's the moral of the story?
THE EXTRA SKIN IS WORTH IT.
Well, kids, I'm living it. So let's talk.
As of today, I'm down 161.6 lbs from my heaviest weight. I weighed 201.4 lbs this morning. I'm getting to the point where I like the way my body looks in clothes. My shoulders are looking really nice. My ass is bangin. I wear leggings as pants because I want to catch glimpses of my own booty in mirrors and windows. It's that good.
But.
BUT.
Nakey...yowza. My body pretty much looks like a melted ice cream cone. My belly and boobs have deflated like a week-old circus balloon animal. Even my thighs and upper arms have some extra skin. Nobody tells you when you start losing weight...things don't shrink, they deflate. If I bend over and flex my abs, it looks like I have an extra set of jugs from how much belly skin is there. I'm not even joking...my husband and I laughed about it for like an hour the other day. This isn't a slam on myself, it's a straight up fact, and I like to lighten it with humor in an effort to be less ashamed of it. Extra skin is a fact of weight loss life. But it's not pretty.
 |
| Buffalo Bill would love me right now. Is that joke not funny? |
Am I prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin? No.
Will I ever be prepared to show you a photo of my extra skin? Probably no.
If you ask me nicely in person, will I show you? No, in fact I'll probably cut you.
If you really want to see extra skin that bad, just do a google search. I guarantee one of the thousands of images looks similar to me.
But anyway...
Imagine that you (literally) work your ass off for weeks, months, years, to get healthy and feel beautiful or get stronger or get off meds or whatever your personal motivations are to lose weight. And your body can do some amazing stuff that it couldn't do before. It looks better in clothes than ever before. It's stronger than it's ever been before. But that extra skin is still lurking there and reminding you of your former self, the damage you did to your body, and how worthless and unattractive you used to feel. Nothing will make you feel less sexy and pretty and successful in your efforts than people commenting on it.
I've been asked, repeatedly, by well-meaning friends, if I will ever have skin removal surgery. At this point, I don't really have enough to necessitate a surgical procedure. Plus, the extremely few people who see me nakey either don't care and love me anyways and can laugh about it with me (the huzzband) and/or can go fuck themselves if they don't like what they see (random locker room people, I guess?). Also...I don't have $20,000 extra dollars to spend on an elective surgery, soooooo...I'll reconsider if it ever causes me health problems.
I'm trying to use my saggy belly and newly unfortunate breasts and elephant skin wrinkly legs as motivation and a reminder of how far I've come. I'm trying to see it as evidence of my accomplishments. I'm trying to see it as beautiful, but this is one of the biggest mental hurdles I've had to face/cross/jump over/whatever during this process. It's a challenge and it may never happen.
But.
BUT.
I did a 5k in May. Yes, I walked like 85% of it. But two years ago, there is no friggin way I could have even walked a mile without wanting to die, let alone a 5k.
I hiked an average of 25-40 miles a week with friends this summer. Could or would I ever have done this before? I would have wanted to, but there's no way I could have.
I discovered a love for yoga. I never would have even tried a class before, because I was too embarrassed about my body and lack of flexibility. I hate to sound cliche, but this has put me in tune with my body and what it wants and needs better than anything else I've ever done. It's taught me to breathe through pain (mental and physical) and that I can tough out uncomfortable things, and the end result is worth the discomfort and work. It has taught me to take up the space I need and to be present in my body and mind. Holy crap, am I grateful for yoga.
I PRed an assload of lifts this year. Are my numbers impressive? Hahahaha no. Does it matter? No, because I lifted heavier shit than I ever have before. And I can lift way more now than I could when I was heavier (which is counter intuitive to me, but whatevs).
I can shop for clothes in almost any store I want to. It's hard to get used to this. I'm used to purchasing whatever garments I can find in my size regardless of whether I liked them or whether they were comfortable or flattering, because my options have been so limited in the past.
Ok, so my body looks weird naked. Yes, I still feel a lot of body shame and frankly, I feel way sexier with my clothes on than off. But would I go back to being 363 lbs, not able to do most of the things I want to do, not able to fit in an airplane seat without a seatbelt extender and a prayer, only able to order ugly old ladyish clothes online, get short of breath walking up a flight of stairs, not be able to give my dog the exercise he needs, not be able to hike and see beautiful places, not be able to feel comfortable doing yoga, have to take blood pressure medications, not be brave enough to tell street harassers to fuck off, and be sad?
Would I have spent my entire life being thin, and thus not had to worry about extra skin at all? Perhaps. But I know how strong I am because I've had to work for every pound off my body and on the bar. Every extra rep, every extra second in an uncomfortable yoga asana, every extra jogged step...I know that every single choice I make every single day has the power to bring me closer to or further from my goals. I feel like others who may have had easier lives physically or been appreciated aesthetically or been considered conventionally attractive for their entire lives don't necessarily appreciate what they have and how easy they have it in some ways.
So what's the moral of the story?
THE EXTRA SKIN IS WORTH IT.
Saturday, October 22, 2016
2016
While it seems like this year might legit be the end of the world (in case we descend into dystopian madness soon, it's been really nice knowing all of you), for me, this year has been amazing so far and shows no signs of stopping.
The things:
I'm in my first clinical practicum rotation at MDCMC/NSMC in Sturge. I feel like a moron allllll the time, but that means I'm constantly learning. It is taxing, exhausting, overwhelming...and it should be! My goal involves a lot of responsibility.
My husband and I have had an interesting, amazing year together as we continue to learn and grow as individuals and as a couple. It hasn't all been great, but it HAS all been educational and brought increased self-awareness.
I have made some amazing, life-changing friends this year. People who have affected me in ways I never thought possible.
Probably the best thing to come out of 2016 is that I barely recognize the Angie from 2015 and previous years. While I do look considerably different physically, more importantly, my mental state has completely changed. And I didn't even realize it until my Auntie Sharon pointed it out to me at my cousin's wedding this summer. My lovely, sweet Auntie pulled me aside and commented on my confidence. She said since seeing me 4 months prior, I looked, acted, and carried myself like a completely different person. She made me cry a little bit. :) And I realized...she was right.
This year turned that around. Why? I have no stinkin idea. When? I honestly can't recall. The transition was subtle and fast. It's like I woke up one morning and a tiny imperceptible shift occurred. I went to bed using my humor as armor and woke up legitimately thinking I was funny. I went to bed hiding my body and woke up wanting to show off my hard work. I went to bed being the funny but fat and unattractive girl and woke up being the girl my husband's friends (and my friends) want to get with (well...some of them). I went to bed unsure of my abilities and talents and woke up a rockstar.
The things:
I'm in my first clinical practicum rotation at MDCMC/NSMC in Sturge. I feel like a moron allllll the time, but that means I'm constantly learning. It is taxing, exhausting, overwhelming...and it should be! My goal involves a lot of responsibility.
I'm still employed. I'm lucky enough to have a job that, while I may or may not agree with administrative decisions, they let me study in between calls. That alone is worth it.
My husband and I have had an interesting, amazing year together as we continue to learn and grow as individuals and as a couple. It hasn't all been great, but it HAS all been educational and brought increased self-awareness.
Taco is still the cutest, even though his breath smells like an old hobo's infected toenail.
I have made some amazing, life-changing friends this year. People who have affected me in ways I never thought possible.
I've reconnected with old friends and somehow, against the odds of scheduling craziness and distance, managed to maintain my closest friendships with my tribe of weirdos.
Probably the best thing to come out of 2016 is that I barely recognize the Angie from 2015 and previous years. While I do look considerably different physically, more importantly, my mental state has completely changed. And I didn't even realize it until my Auntie Sharon pointed it out to me at my cousin's wedding this summer. My lovely, sweet Auntie pulled me aside and commented on my confidence. She said since seeing me 4 months prior, I looked, acted, and carried myself like a completely different person. She made me cry a little bit. :) And I realized...she was right.
 |
| Mumzers, Auntie Sharon, moi. Duesler ladies are HAWT. |
I felt so good about myself for the first time in a long time. Despite being proud of my accomplishments (academic, physical, mental, etc.), I still could not shake the feeling that something was lacking. Something was missing in me that other people had.
This year turned that around. Why? I have no stinkin idea. When? I honestly can't recall. The transition was subtle and fast. It's like I woke up one morning and a tiny imperceptible shift occurred. I went to bed using my humor as armor and woke up legitimately thinking I was funny. I went to bed hiding my body and woke up wanting to show off my hard work. I went to bed being the funny but fat and unattractive girl and woke up being the girl my husband's friends (and my friends) want to get with (well...some of them). I went to bed unsure of my abilities and talents and woke up a rockstar.
I wish I could share the event, thought process, or magical happening that changed my perceptions, but I haven't the slightest idea what it was. I wish I could tell you that everyone else sees me the same way I see myself, but I'm sure that's not true. I wish I could bottle this feeling and market it, not only because I'd make an assload of money, but because everyone deserves to feel this way.
2016 might suck for the world at large, but for me, it's been amazing.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Liberation and Body Shame
So. I thought I was done blogging. Turns out, I have more to say. Surprise!
For years, I've felt like a prisioner in my own body. I had a suit of armor, so to speak, of my own making.
Through hard work, my prison has slowly been stripped away, layer by layer (I've still got a considerable amount of "armor" on my person. But comparatively, it's quite a change and I feel super vulnerable about it at times). But. BUT. And this is a big but (no pun intended, hey-oh!), I still feel a deep and profound shame about my body.
My besties, who have all seen me in various stages of undress, know that I'm particularly self-conscious about my belly. I may call it a food baby, baby Buddha, keg, etc to joke around, but the truth is, I hate it. A lot.
The good news is, I have other body parts that I dig. My ass is fantastic. My face is pretty cute. I've got decent legs. I like my shoulders. I just can't seem to get past my body shame, and most of it centers around my midsection. It's pale and has stretch marks. I have never, ever, EVER voluntarily showed it off in public. EVER.
Today, Jeffer, Taco, and I went out to Brillion to explore. We hiked at the nature center for a bit, but the mosquitoes got so bad we had to abandon ship pretty quickly. Jeff had a few things to take care of, so Taco and I went for a jog on the Friendship Trail. It was hotter than hell. I was sweating my ass off and my t-shirt was uncomfortably stuck to me in a billion places. As I was jogging, I thought, "man, I wish I could take my shirt off."
Then, I thought, "why the hell can't I take my damn shirt off?"
I immediately dismissed the idea. I will barely wear a bathing suit, let alone run around without a shirt on. Tank tops feel revealing to me. I've worn shorts twice this summer, and felt uncomfortable the whole time. My brain kept telling me, "nobody wants to see that shit, Ang. Keep it on!"
Then, I stopped myself. Thoughts started spiraling through my brain...
Embarrassingly enough, yes. Absolutely, 100%, yes. I did care what potential, non-existant, hypothetical strangers/other hikers would think of my body. Realizing this made me feel even more ashamed of myself. How can I project this persona of confidence and still have these self-loathing thoughts? Why do I feel like I'm not good enough? Why do I still hate my body so much?
I started thinking about all the amazing things my body is capable of. My legs have walked in over 40 states, 12 countries, up hills and mountains, and across graduation stages. My hands have caught babies as they've entered the world and held the hands of dying patients as they've exited the world. My arms have held my friends' babies and hugged the ones I love. My mouth, while sassy and with a penchant for getting me into trouble, kisses the ones I love and shares my thoughts with the world. My body has done some pretty amazing stuff. What right do I have to hate such an amazing thing???
Fuck it, I thought, stripped my shirt off, and finished my jog (wog, actually. Taco got tired before I did, surprisingly).
Had I seen another human, I probably would have put my shirt back on immediately. I did put it back on before I got back to the highway portion of the trail. I felt weird the whole time. The point is, today was a tiny step towards self-love and liberation for me, and it took a lot for me to be able to do it. Even more to share this hella unflattering but empowering picture that I'm about to link. Yeesh.
For years, I've felt like a prisioner in my own body. I had a suit of armor, so to speak, of my own making.
Through hard work, my prison has slowly been stripped away, layer by layer (I've still got a considerable amount of "armor" on my person. But comparatively, it's quite a change and I feel super vulnerable about it at times). But. BUT. And this is a big but (no pun intended, hey-oh!), I still feel a deep and profound shame about my body.
 |
| Quick special shout-out to my husband here, for helping me work through this. I know it's something I've got to work on and do for myself, but it helps to have somebody who appreciates your body, notices small changes, and basically worships you like a goddess. Thanks, boo. |
My besties, who have all seen me in various stages of undress, know that I'm particularly self-conscious about my belly. I may call it a food baby, baby Buddha, keg, etc to joke around, but the truth is, I hate it. A lot.
The good news is, I have other body parts that I dig. My ass is fantastic. My face is pretty cute. I've got decent legs. I like my shoulders. I just can't seem to get past my body shame, and most of it centers around my midsection. It's pale and has stretch marks. I have never, ever, EVER voluntarily showed it off in public. EVER.
Today, Jeffer, Taco, and I went out to Brillion to explore. We hiked at the nature center for a bit, but the mosquitoes got so bad we had to abandon ship pretty quickly. Jeff had a few things to take care of, so Taco and I went for a jog on the Friendship Trail. It was hotter than hell. I was sweating my ass off and my t-shirt was uncomfortably stuck to me in a billion places. As I was jogging, I thought, "man, I wish I could take my shirt off."
Then, I thought, "why the hell can't I take my damn shirt off?"
I immediately dismissed the idea. I will barely wear a bathing suit, let alone run around without a shirt on. Tank tops feel revealing to me. I've worn shorts twice this summer, and felt uncomfortable the whole time. My brain kept telling me, "nobody wants to see that shit, Ang. Keep it on!"
Then, I stopped myself. Thoughts started spiraling through my brain...
What the fuck, Ang. What the fuck. You are alone.
Your dog doesn't give a flying fuck what your belly looks like.
And furthermore...do you really care what any potential strangers you MIGHT run into think of your body?
Are the thoughts of hypothetical strangers more important than your own personal comfort right now?
I started thinking about all the amazing things my body is capable of. My legs have walked in over 40 states, 12 countries, up hills and mountains, and across graduation stages. My hands have caught babies as they've entered the world and held the hands of dying patients as they've exited the world. My arms have held my friends' babies and hugged the ones I love. My mouth, while sassy and with a penchant for getting me into trouble, kisses the ones I love and shares my thoughts with the world. My body has done some pretty amazing stuff. What right do I have to hate such an amazing thing???
Fuck it, I thought, stripped my shirt off, and finished my jog (wog, actually. Taco got tired before I did, surprisingly).
Had I seen another human, I probably would have put my shirt back on immediately. I did put it back on before I got back to the highway portion of the trail. I felt weird the whole time. The point is, today was a tiny step towards self-love and liberation for me, and it took a lot for me to be able to do it. Even more to share this hella unflattering but empowering picture that I'm about to link. Yeesh.
 |
| Werkin dem angles. |
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Gratitude
Since it's been almost 6 months since I've documented anything, I think it's safe to say I've fallen off the blogging wagon. And I'm ok with this.
I started this blog when my gym wife Jen told me to find a way to document my Paying it Forward experience and all the changes that were no doubt going to occur in my life.
My 32nd year was an emotional and physical maelstrom, in the best way possible. I lost almost 100lbs. I made some new friends. I worked my ass off, figuratively and literally. I cried all over my poor trainer on at least a weekly basis. I cried all over my husband on at least a weekly basis. I cried all over my nutritionist pretty regularly, as well. I came to terms with my habits, my decisions, my mental state, my physical state, and my life in general. I worked really hard to improve my physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental health.
In my 33rd year, the physical changes came a lot more slowly but the mental, emotional, and spiritual "journey" continued. I lost about 30 more lbs. I had surgery. I gained 20 lbs back. I re-lost the 20 post-op mashed potato and popsicle pounds. I made more new friends (awesome ones, in fact). I started practicing mindfulness, and found a lot of peace in yoga practice (which I used to hate with the fire of 1000 suns) and meditation (which I always used to feel like I was doing "wrong"). Because of this (I think), I cried a lot less. I finished my BSN and started grad school, which may prove to be my worst idea yet (but will be worth it when I'm finished, I'm sure).
As I'm rapidly approaching 34, I feel like this is a perfect time to reflect on where I've been and the changes that have occurred. I'm insanely proud of the physical changes that have occurred, but even more proud of the mental changes. I feel clear, focused, and determined. I feel confident and strong (most of the time). I feel at peace with myself and my relationships.
Most importantly, I feel a deep gratitude. I have even learned to become thankful for the not-so-awesome things that have happened in my life, because they shaped me into the rockstar you know and love today (I'm also thankful that I'm so humble). I am so, so thankful for my husband, family, and friends. I'm grateful for my education and career. I'm grateful that people trust me every day to guide them towards making the best decisions they can for their health.
I'm grateful for the boys (not men) and girls (not women) I've known (and not known) who mocked my body ruthlessly and publicly. I'm grateful for my exes who cheated on me. I'm grateful for those assholes on Fair St who made me cry in 2014 and inspired me to apply for Jen's Paying it Forward contest/gift.
Does that sound ridiculous? It feels a little ridiculous. How can I be thankful for boyfriends who screw around on me, people who body-shame me, strangers who make me cry? They taught me how to be resilient, how to persevere, how to keep my head held high, and how not to give a fuck about the opinions of people who, quite frankly, just don't matter. Those lessons were hard to learn and those skills were hard-earned. In the wise words of Jinkx Monsoon, "water off a duck's back."
They also, in a roundabout way, contributed to the amazing process of change and transformation that I've gone through and will not doubt continue to go through as I get older.
I'm grateful to Amanda, Kim, and everyone at Nutritional Healing for being amazing sources of knowledge and inspiration. I'm so grateful for Anytime Fitness A-West, Neenah, Kaukauna, and A-East for being my homes away from home (seriously, I sometimes feel like I should just rent out a tanning room and move all my stuff in) and excellent cheerleaders (and super fun friends).
I hate to say this adventure is done, because it feels like it's just beginning. I know I still have a long way to go before I'm where I want to be. I don't believe in "before and after," I think I'll experience a slow but persistent evolution that will perpetuate forever, hopefully in a positive direction. However, I have a feeling that the public documentation of it is finished. It feels like a time for introspection and self-reflection.
With that said, thank you for cheering me on, thank you for the inspiring words, thank you for keeping me motivated. Thank you for being my shoulders to cry on and my cheerleaders to high-five when things have been awesome.
I started this blog when my gym wife Jen told me to find a way to document my Paying it Forward experience and all the changes that were no doubt going to occur in my life.
My 32nd year was an emotional and physical maelstrom, in the best way possible. I lost almost 100lbs. I made some new friends. I worked my ass off, figuratively and literally. I cried all over my poor trainer on at least a weekly basis. I cried all over my husband on at least a weekly basis. I cried all over my nutritionist pretty regularly, as well. I came to terms with my habits, my decisions, my mental state, my physical state, and my life in general. I worked really hard to improve my physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental health.
In my 33rd year, the physical changes came a lot more slowly but the mental, emotional, and spiritual "journey" continued. I lost about 30 more lbs. I had surgery. I gained 20 lbs back. I re-lost the 20 post-op mashed potato and popsicle pounds. I made more new friends (awesome ones, in fact). I started practicing mindfulness, and found a lot of peace in yoga practice (which I used to hate with the fire of 1000 suns) and meditation (which I always used to feel like I was doing "wrong"). Because of this (I think), I cried a lot less. I finished my BSN and started grad school, which may prove to be my worst idea yet (but will be worth it when I'm finished, I'm sure).
As I'm rapidly approaching 34, I feel like this is a perfect time to reflect on where I've been and the changes that have occurred. I'm insanely proud of the physical changes that have occurred, but even more proud of the mental changes. I feel clear, focused, and determined. I feel confident and strong (most of the time). I feel at peace with myself and my relationships.
Most importantly, I feel a deep gratitude. I have even learned to become thankful for the not-so-awesome things that have happened in my life, because they shaped me into the rockstar you know and love today (I'm also thankful that I'm so humble). I am so, so thankful for my husband, family, and friends. I'm grateful for my education and career. I'm grateful that people trust me every day to guide them towards making the best decisions they can for their health.
I'm grateful for the boys (not men) and girls (not women) I've known (and not known) who mocked my body ruthlessly and publicly. I'm grateful for my exes who cheated on me. I'm grateful for those assholes on Fair St who made me cry in 2014 and inspired me to apply for Jen's Paying it Forward contest/gift.
Does that sound ridiculous? It feels a little ridiculous. How can I be thankful for boyfriends who screw around on me, people who body-shame me, strangers who make me cry? They taught me how to be resilient, how to persevere, how to keep my head held high, and how not to give a fuck about the opinions of people who, quite frankly, just don't matter. Those lessons were hard to learn and those skills were hard-earned. In the wise words of Jinkx Monsoon, "water off a duck's back."
They also, in a roundabout way, contributed to the amazing process of change and transformation that I've gone through and will not doubt continue to go through as I get older.
I'm grateful to Amanda, Kim, and everyone at Nutritional Healing for being amazing sources of knowledge and inspiration. I'm so grateful for Anytime Fitness A-West, Neenah, Kaukauna, and A-East for being my homes away from home (seriously, I sometimes feel like I should just rent out a tanning room and move all my stuff in) and excellent cheerleaders (and super fun friends).
I hate to say this adventure is done, because it feels like it's just beginning. I know I still have a long way to go before I'm where I want to be. I don't believe in "before and after," I think I'll experience a slow but persistent evolution that will perpetuate forever, hopefully in a positive direction. However, I have a feeling that the public documentation of it is finished. It feels like a time for introspection and self-reflection.
With that said, thank you for cheering me on, thank you for the inspiring words, thank you for keeping me motivated. Thank you for being my shoulders to cry on and my cheerleaders to high-five when things have been awesome.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
How my FitBit turned me into an obsessive basketcase
Behold, the Fitbit in all it's glory.
Fitbits are amazing. These little gizmos can monitor just about everything that happens in your day. Miles walked, steps taken, calories burned, heart rate, food intake, hydration, sleep...just about the only thing they don't monitor is your poo (though I'm sure that's coming in a future model).
So why am I getting rid of mine?
TL;DR version
I am an anxious weirdo with obsessive tendencies. I also have a history of some disordered health, eating, and fitness behavior.
The whole story
I got the Fitbit as a Valentine's Day gift last year. Technically, I bought it for myself...Jeff got himself some sweet ass noise-cancelling headphones and I said "Happy Valentine's Day, those are from me, and I'm getting a Fitbit." I ordered myself a Charge HR, because I wanted the most accurate calorie monitor (you can see where this is going already, I'm sure). Also, I was on an absolutely HUGE dose of beta blockers last year, and I wanted to make sure my HR wasn't getting too low (turns out, my resting HR was in the 40's for most of 2015. Being able to show evidence of this to my doctor, coupled with my super low BP (100/60) got my beta blocker dose cut in half. So thanks for that, Fitbit)!
It came in the mail and I was super excited. I charged it up, slapped it on, and set up the app on my computer. I used the pre-set goals from Fitbit itself (10,000 steps, 5 miles, 10 floors, and 2,500 calories) for a few months before starting to tweak them.
Guess which one I tweaked.
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| I'll give you one subtle hint. |
I thought, "I could burn 3,000 calories in a day." So I increased that goal. On days that I met the goal, I was so happy. On days that I didn't meet the goal, I felt like a failure.
A friggin arbitrarily selected goal on a goddamn electronic fitness tracker made me feel like a failure. Why? Because I don't not meet goals, dammit. That's just not how I operate.
On days that I knew I wouldn't be as active, I ate less (like, way less than my nutritionally recommended plan that I pay actual money for science-y people to develop for me) to make sure my calorie burn was still significantly over my intake. This subsequently led to eating like shit when I'd come home starving at the end of the day (now, when I say "like shit," I mean "like shit for me." It was still miles better than I ate before I started treating my body respectfully).
On days that I ate more, I felt obligated to go work out, even if it was supposed to be a rest day. Even if I was exhausted. EVEN IF I HAD FUCKING BRONCHITIS. BRONCHITIS, Y'ALL. Remember when I coughed so hard I peed myself at the gym last spring? I blame Fitbit.
When I work out, I like to set goals for myself, even with cardio. I started by saying "I'll do 300KCal of cardio." Then it was 400. Then it was 500. If I got tired or ran out of time and had to stop before my goal was met, I was upset with myself. EVEN THOUGH I HAD WORKED OUT AND DONE SOMETHING HEALTHY FOR MY BODY.
I know for a lot of people, that much calorie burn is nothing. But you know who (besides me, clearly) tracks their KCal so meticulously and workouts less than their goal "don't count?" You know who else gets upset with themselves when they mess up their calorie burn by eating more than they want to while still eating less than they should?
Compulsive exercisers and people with eating disorders, that's who.
And another thing.
I didn't want to lift as much or as often.
Why?
I can't flippin believe it, but because my lifting workouts didn't burn as many calories as cardio. Even though they're friggin EXHAUSTING. Even though I know increasing your muscle mass is what leads to a higher resting calorie burn rate. Even though one of my goals is to get stronger.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to throw my Fitbit into the nearest river. But also, I didn't want to litter. I hear those tickets are expensive (*wink*).
This tool that I had wanted and that I thought had been so helpful to me, was no longer a tool. It was a shackle. It was a weight. It was leading me down a path toward increasingly disordered behavior. And I knew it had to go.
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| Pictured above: my Fitbit Charge HR. Looks comfy. |
It was peeling apart a little near the display, and still under warranty, so I contacted Fitbit for a replacement. I also asked them if I could raffle it off or donate it, and they said that was fine (ethics, yo)! The new one is due to arrive this week, and I just need to figure out how to get it the hell outta my house and turn it into a blessing for someone else.
I worked out this morning without the Fitbit. At first, I felt a little naked. My first thought was, "why am I doing this if there's no record of it?" Then I realized, my shrinking food baby and growing bro biceps are the record. My pants that are now too big. My blood pressure meds that have been decreased. My c-pap that will hopefully be going away next year. When I thought about that, I didn't give a flying turd how many calories I burned. Or how long I worked out. Or how many steps I had taken. The only thing I counted was reps. It was magical.
I worked out this morning without the Fitbit. At first, I felt a little naked. My first thought was, "why am I doing this if there's no record of it?" Then I realized, my shrinking food baby and growing bro biceps are the record. My pants that are now too big. My blood pressure meds that have been decreased. My c-pap that will hopefully be going away next year. When I thought about that, I didn't give a flying turd how many calories I burned. Or how long I worked out. Or how many steps I had taken. The only thing I counted was reps. It was magical.
Again: I think Fitbits are fantastic. They can be an amazing tool for monitoring and improving habits. The Charge HR and Surge can monitor heart rate, which is a huge improvement for those with some health problems that want to be active. They are just not positive tools for me.
Also, if calorie counting works for you, DO IT! It plays too much into my anxious and obsessive side and leads to ugliness.
Also, if calorie counting works for you, DO IT! It plays too much into my anxious and obsessive side and leads to ugliness.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
The great stimulant experiment
DISCLAIMER: I'm not a moron. I know pre-workout is for strength training. With that said, read on...
Oh my holy God, y'all. Pre-workout. It should probably be illegal, because it was awesome. And terrible.
So, I had some samples of pre-workout and other assorted things (delicious protein for days that I forget to pack my breakfast for work, mostly) from the Vitamin Shoppe (thanks, Strongman/ma'am competition!) and I thought, I wonder if this is all it's cracked up to be. So I thought I'd give it a whirl.
It was orange-flavored. And it tasted like glorious Tang. Just like Grandma Irma used to make.
Oh my holy God, y'all. Pre-workout. It should probably be illegal, because it was awesome. And terrible.
So, I had some samples of pre-workout and other assorted things (delicious protein for days that I forget to pack my breakfast for work, mostly) from the Vitamin Shoppe (thanks, Strongman/ma'am competition!) and I thought, I wonder if this is all it's cracked up to be. So I thought I'd give it a whirl.
It was orange-flavored. And it tasted like glorious Tang. Just like Grandma Irma used to make.
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| The stuff winners are made of, apparently. |
I drank it on the way to the gym, and on my first few minutes on the elliptical. Yes, it was cardio day. I tried it anyway.
At first, I was like, "meh." I felt pretty much the same. On cardio day, I tend to get bored, and typically spend 5-10 minutes on one machine before switching to another, and another, and another.
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| The patron saint of cardio day. |
After about 20 minutes, I realized I was still on the elliptical, and wasn't bored yet. Score one for pre-workout.
I checked my fitbit, and my heart rate was slightly higher than it normally is. Now, it was still on the low-ish end for a cardio session (my beta blockers lower my heart rate, because SCIENCE!), and I'm not sure if it was higher because of the caffiene in the pre-workout or because my beta blockers were just decreased. I'm going to say it was both.
The husband finished his training session, I hopped off the elliptical. Checked the fitbit, and I'd burned about 90 more calories than normal in 35 minutes. Score one for pre-workout.
Then, we went to the grocery store.
Then, we went to the grocery store.
I could NOT shut up. Words kept spilling out of my mouth and it felt like I had to say them or my brain would explode from being too full of thoughts and information. I talk a lot to begin with, and according to Jeff, this "side effect" was EXTREMELY noticeable.
Conclusion: pre-workout may or may not be straight up methamphetamines. Having never used methamphetamines, I can't say for sure, but based on my knowledge of them (a few pharmacology classes and the movie "Requiem for a Dream"), I can only assume this is the case. I do not suggest trying methamphetamines to test this hypothesis, by the way.
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| Pictured above: pre-workout supplement |
Jeff has also asked me not to use the pre-workout any more, because of the incessant talking and, quote, "you were just weird." I agree with this request...partially to honor Jeff's wishes, and partially because I WAS frickin weird on it.
Experiment over!
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Street Harassment. The uncoolest.
Ughhhhhhh, you guys.
Frickin street harassment. Is it still street harassment if it happens in a park, on a trail? Trail harassment? Well, no matter, I'm going to call it street harassment anyway.
Let me tell you two little stories:
Early April 2014. I'm feeling pretty good about myself because I've started walking to and from work. The weather is glorious, I've got my favorite blue sweater on, and I'm on my way home to see my husband. The day couldn't have been nicer.
Until I turn onto State Street.
"Go back to Burger King, fatty!" comes the shout from over a block away.
I try not to look at the person shouting, but I did before I could help myself.
"Yeah, you, you fat bitch!"
Oh, my tender little heart. I am devastated. My soul is shattered by these few, cruel words. I continue walking home as hot, angry tears stream down my face under my polka-dotted sunglasses and immediately collapse into my husband's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I'm fat, I know it. But do people REALLY need to take precious time from their day to spew hateful words at me? Seems like a waste of energy, and yet it happened all. the. TIME.
Fast forward to yesterday.
It's a gorgeous, hot, sunny day, and I decided to take Taco for a walk in Telulah Park along the Newberry Trail. Once we got to the park, it took us awhile to find the actual trail, but once we did it was peaceful and gorgeous. We walked along the Fox River, barked at geese and ducks (just Taco), enjoyed the solitude, sat and dipped our feet in the river (just me), and then continued up the hill back to the park. After meandering along the trail through the park, we came upon a park bench with three "gentlemen" (and that term is pretty generous, as you'll see).
After letting the toddler that was with them pet Taco and introducing him to them as well, came the inevitable
"What's your name, baby?"
Response one: Please don't call me baby. Response 2: Angela. Because you will use my formal name, fools.
We kept walking about another mile and eventually turned around (I don't think the trail is a loop...but who knows because seriously, it's not marked well at all).
When we came upon their park bench, my new "friend" said "Did you come back for me?"
My sarcastic response was "Of course, I missed you so much these last fifteen minutes, total stranger." I laughed and kept walking.
"Shake that ass, baby!"
Oh. HELL. No. I turned around while walking away (backward) and responded "No!" in my best scolding voice. I turned back around and kept walking.
The three amigos and their baby then got up and started following me down the trail...or at least walking in the same direction. They were mercifully slow because of the stroller and small child that was with them.
"You looking fine, girl!"
No response from me.
"Hey, you wanna be my girl?"
No response from me.
"I'd like to tap that ass."
No response from me. At this point, my blood is boiling and I'm about ready to go ape on them, but I just want to get to my car and get home so I can complain about them to Jeff.
"Hey, Angela, are you into three-ways?"
At this point, I promptly lost my shit. They were shouting in my direction as there was about 100 feet in between us on the trail. I turned around and shouted back, "Yes, if you're into guys. I'll invite my husband!"
"Aww hell no." "Fuck that shit." "You cocktease."
Seriously? Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Apparently being female and going for a walk with your fucking dog makes you a cocktease. The more you know.
Here's the moral of the story.
Once upon a time, I thought that losing weight would make the street harassment stop. I thought people shouted evil things at me because I was fat (well, still am kinda fat, but you know what I mean. Fatter than current status), so when I lost weight, nobody would have cause to say mean things anymore. Hooray!
SURPRISE! People shout things and say rude things. And it seems like it's because I have the audacity to take my vagina and breasts outdoors in public. Unsupervised by a male and everything. HOW DARE I! I should be shamed into submission for merely being female and existing, let alone running amok on public hiking trails! I should also figure out a way to leave my vagina and breasts at home...but that sounds scientific and is clearly a job for a man.
We all know that having a vagina makes you weak, fragile, and submissive. Therefore, it's not only acceptable to street harass vagina-havers, but it's your DUTY AS AN AMERICAN to make sure they feel as weak, fragile, and submissive as you feel they should be.
For the record, here is a list of things it's acceptable to say to a stranger as she walks her dog:
1) Your dog is cute (this will make us instant BFFs, just FYI)
2) Gorgeous day, isn't it?
3) Your shoe is untied (if it actually is)
4) Do you have the time?
5) Your dog is cute (I know I already said it, but it's important)
6) Help! (if you are in distress, obvi)
END OF LIST.
**P.S. This also applies to males and those whose genders you are not sure of. It's pretty cis-female centric because I'm writing from personal experience. But how about let's just not harass each other, k?
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Goals
I like setting goals and crushing them. In that past, setting goals was a frustrating, depressing process for me. I was really good at the planning stages...and not so great at the actual execution. I had known for a loooooong time that I wanted to/needed to lose weight and get healthier, but no idea how to do it. Eat less calories than you take in (duh), but to be honest, there's a lot more to it than that, at least for me.
Counting calories is super triggering for me. I can't do it without feeling restricted, anxious, and stressed. It always always always leads to a binge and feeling badly (and sick). So I don't do it.
Weight Watchers was fantastic in terms of measuring intake without calorie counting, but, for me, it didn't teach me how to eat healthy. I could eat nothing but Snickers bars all day as long as I didn't go over my daily points. I was losing a little weight, which was great, but still feeding myself with a lot of processed crap.
Everybody is different, and different things work for different people. I know people who have lost tons of weight counting calories, on WW, on Atkins, or on another program, and it makes sense for them. Fantastic! Keep it up, yo!
What does this have to do with goals, you ask?
Until I had a plan that I could sustainably execute, my goals were just wishes. I wanted them, but wasn't taking appropriate steps to meet them.
Over the past year, my goals have evolved as my health and fitness have. My first goal was to get through my first workout without crying, dying, or vomiting. It may seem like a ridiculous or easy goal, but it was my Everest. I was so intimidated by the gym and my trainer at that time, and that first workout was terrifying. But I did it. Goal met. After I got into the swing of things, my first weight loss goal was 20lbs. After that, it was to be below 300lbs. Then to lose 75. Then 100. I've also had NSV related goals...for example, comfortably sitting in an airplane seat without a seatbelt extender was a goal I crushed on my trip to AZ in March. Even things like sitting in a restaurant booth comfortably or in a chair with arms without being in pain were goals that I had.
Now that I've met my 100lb goal (plus some, yay!), it's time to re-evaluate and make new goals. I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss. I want to gain some water weight, which probably sounds ridiculous to most of you. But even though I drink water all day (and pee about a billion times a day as a result), I am chronically dehydrated (as are lots of people). My body composition is improving slowly but surely, and my percentage of body water is slowly creeping up. The more fat I lose, the more it goes up (thank GOD). But it's only at 39%, and it should be at least 50%. The problem with this goal is that I need it to be tangible and concrete, and I'm not sure how to quantify water weight gain in a way that is attainable on a monthly basis. *le sigh*
I would also love to put on some muscle. Again, my percentage of muscle keeps increasing as my fat percentage goes down, but pounds wise, I've actually lost some muscle this year. The small amount I've lost, considering that I've lost 113lbs, is pretty fantastic. But eventually, I'd like some sweet gains. I want a big, amazing ass, what can I say (well, it's already pretty big and amazing, but I want it to be like Kim Kardashian-ey).
Also, I'm most certainly not done losing weight (at least, I hope not). I'd still like to lose a solid 50 more pounds, possibly more. But it's tricky, because I'm now at the point where people are starting to ask about my "goal weight." And I have no idea what it is. I hope I'll know it when I get there, but as of now, I have no idea what it is. Because it depends more on how I feel and look than the number on the scale (never thought I'd say that). I could surprise myself and stop before my 50lb loss. Maybe I'll get to 210 and decide that's perfect. Maybe I'll lose the 50 and decide I need to lose more.
I guess I'm just trying to throw this out there...make goals for yourself! Make them achievable, measurable, and REALISTIC, so you can pleasantly surprise yourself when you crush them.
Go gain a pound of muscle.
Go sit in a restaurant booth.
Go get that Kim Kardashian ass.
Counting calories is super triggering for me. I can't do it without feeling restricted, anxious, and stressed. It always always always leads to a binge and feeling badly (and sick). So I don't do it.
Weight Watchers was fantastic in terms of measuring intake without calorie counting, but, for me, it didn't teach me how to eat healthy. I could eat nothing but Snickers bars all day as long as I didn't go over my daily points. I was losing a little weight, which was great, but still feeding myself with a lot of processed crap.
Everybody is different, and different things work for different people. I know people who have lost tons of weight counting calories, on WW, on Atkins, or on another program, and it makes sense for them. Fantastic! Keep it up, yo!
What does this have to do with goals, you ask?
Until I had a plan that I could sustainably execute, my goals were just wishes. I wanted them, but wasn't taking appropriate steps to meet them.
Over the past year, my goals have evolved as my health and fitness have. My first goal was to get through my first workout without crying, dying, or vomiting. It may seem like a ridiculous or easy goal, but it was my Everest. I was so intimidated by the gym and my trainer at that time, and that first workout was terrifying. But I did it. Goal met. After I got into the swing of things, my first weight loss goal was 20lbs. After that, it was to be below 300lbs. Then to lose 75. Then 100. I've also had NSV related goals...for example, comfortably sitting in an airplane seat without a seatbelt extender was a goal I crushed on my trip to AZ in March. Even things like sitting in a restaurant booth comfortably or in a chair with arms without being in pain were goals that I had.
Now that I've met my 100lb goal (plus some, yay!), it's time to re-evaluate and make new goals. I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss. I want to gain some water weight, which probably sounds ridiculous to most of you. But even though I drink water all day (and pee about a billion times a day as a result), I am chronically dehydrated (as are lots of people). My body composition is improving slowly but surely, and my percentage of body water is slowly creeping up. The more fat I lose, the more it goes up (thank GOD). But it's only at 39%, and it should be at least 50%. The problem with this goal is that I need it to be tangible and concrete, and I'm not sure how to quantify water weight gain in a way that is attainable on a monthly basis. *le sigh*
I would also love to put on some muscle. Again, my percentage of muscle keeps increasing as my fat percentage goes down, but pounds wise, I've actually lost some muscle this year. The small amount I've lost, considering that I've lost 113lbs, is pretty fantastic. But eventually, I'd like some sweet gains. I want a big, amazing ass, what can I say (well, it's already pretty big and amazing, but I want it to be like Kim Kardashian-ey).
Also, I'm most certainly not done losing weight (at least, I hope not). I'd still like to lose a solid 50 more pounds, possibly more. But it's tricky, because I'm now at the point where people are starting to ask about my "goal weight." And I have no idea what it is. I hope I'll know it when I get there, but as of now, I have no idea what it is. Because it depends more on how I feel and look than the number on the scale (never thought I'd say that). I could surprise myself and stop before my 50lb loss. Maybe I'll get to 210 and decide that's perfect. Maybe I'll lose the 50 and decide I need to lose more.
I guess I'm just trying to throw this out there...make goals for yourself! Make them achievable, measurable, and REALISTIC, so you can pleasantly surprise yourself when you crush them.
Go gain a pound of muscle.
Go sit in a restaurant booth.
Go get that Kim Kardashian ass.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Choices
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| I actually hate this stock photo. But I'll get to that in a second... |
Choice is a beautiful, terrifying thing. I'm able to say that it's terrifying because it's something I, as a white, straight, cisgender, American, educated woman, am able to take for granted. A LOT. Not to get political on you, but holy shit, I have some serious privilege and associated guilt. Given the state of the world, I guess I'd rather have the guilt than not have the privilege, and it's crap to have to think that way.
Moving on...
Some of the choices we have to make are easy. Do I go to work today or stay in my sweatpants watching Netflix? Well, unless you are ill or have agoraphobia, you will probably make the decision to go to work. Unless you don't like gainful employment, of course (no judgement).
Some are more difficult. Where will I go to college? What do I want to be when I "grow up?" Do I want children? If so, how many? Who will I vote for (this may be easy or difficult depending on who's running)?
Some choices should be easy, but can challenge us (me) sometimes (a lot).
Will I eat this candy or won't I?
Will I work out today, or will I stay in my sweatpants watching Netflix (I like Netflix, ok?)?
Will I have all of the garlic naan ever made when I go out to dinner with my BFF?
Will I have a glass of water, or will I have a third latte?
The struggle is real, y'all.
There is a reason I get annoyed (somewhat secretly, but I'm not THAT good at hiding it) when people say they "slipped up" on their healthy eating and exercise is because it's not a slip up. It's not an accident. Nobody hog-tied you and forced you to eat Doritos all day (I hope). You didn't lose your footing and fall mouth first into a pan of brownies. The gym didn't secretly pack up and move to a different part of town without telling you.
It's not a slip up. It's not a mistake. It's a choice. You may not even realize it.
I recently read an article (and no, I won't cite it, because I can't even remember where/when exactly I saw it) that said "discipline is prioritizing what you want most of all over what you want right now." Truer words have never been spoken. It doesn't just apply to health and fitness, it applies to everything we do.
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| I couldn't find the original quote, but this is close enough. You get the idea. Also, don't tell me what to do, Silhouette Person. You don't know my life! |
For the first time in a long time, my health usually wins the top spot. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes, for example, I wake up at 5am absolutely frickin exhausted. The night before, school was my priority and I stayed up studying until midnight. Today, as much as I would like for my personal health to be the priority and go back to bed to rest, work needs to win because I'm scheduled to be in at 6 and SURPRISE, adulthood is no fun sometimes!
Today, I probably should have worked out, but I prioritized my friends and social relationships and went out to lunch instead.
Do I feel badly about it? Meh, tomorrow's a new day, the gym will still be there. And it's a choice I made. Consciously. Deliberately. They did not kidnap me and take me to Basil Cafe (although truthfully, I would LOVE that). There's no excuse, there's just what happened. The choice I made. And it was worth it.
I also don't like to think of it as "good choices" and "bad choices." Maybe "better choices" and "not as great" choices? I don't know how to phrase it. But I feel like calling it a bad choice shames us for what we do. And I am not hopping on that train. Are our less than spectacular choices what define us? NO. So why do we shame ourselves for them?
You can choose to spend your time excusing your "slip ups" or "cheating" or "mistakes" on your fitness journey. But I can almost guarantee, you will begin to feel badly about them.
What I've chosen to do is to own my choices, without apologies or excuses. For me, this is the best (only) way to forward movement, progress, and growth. It gives me the freedom to do what I want with the pride I feel whenever I make a choice that improves my life.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
The times they are a-changin'
It's time for a transition. A new start. New adventures. A change. *BARF*
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| Pictured above: ME |
So. My trainer is done training. He's moved on to explore different opportunities. I knew it was coming (thank god he weaned me off of his services by cutting his schedule down first). I've been waiting for this day for a few weeks, and I've anticipated being a sad panda about it.
Surprisingly, I'm not a wreck. I'm actually feeling really good, and way more optimistic than I thought I would be. Especially considering how anxious I am. I thrive on routine and "change" is a big fat scary boogeyman (unless I instigate the change, of course).
My being okay with this transition is no reflection on my trainer. Pretty sure he was frickin AWESOME and changed my life in ways I never could have or would have on my own. Buuuuuut...
Sometimes change is a good thing. Changing up my routine. Changing up my guidance. Exploring new mentors and new methods and new places. But a lot of change can lead to stress. Especially for an anxious little bee like myself.
In addition to my trainer leaving...
My trusty, rusty Toyota finally went to the big scrap heap in the sky. It's been sitting in a parking lot at Van's service for a week, waiting to be pitifully hauled away. Because of this...
My husband had to get a new job. Which is stressful for both him AND me. Also...
It's the beginning of a new semester. Which means ten tons of work and no time for funsies. And...
We have so much mandatory overtime at work right now it's not even cool.
What's the point? Am I looking for sympathy? Empathy? A getaway car?
Nope, just wanted to say, as much as I hate change, and sometimes transitions can suck it, I'm handling this pretty well.
And, cornball as it seems, I feel like, in large part, it has to do with my new habits.
I eliminate stress by moving my body (exercise) or sitting completely still (meditating) and if all else fails, I take a nap. In the past, I stifled my emotions and bottled up my stress by eating or getting drunk (or smoking stuff). Not the awesome-ist plan ever, and really stupid when you remember that I'm an educated person.
So thanks again to my lovely health gurus. Without your guidance, I'd be navigating all this change and transition with gin and Funyuns instead of deadlifts and cardio and naps and guided meditation.
Everyone knows deadlifts are more fun than gin, anyways. And I can't wait until my new trainer makes me do them until I swear at her. :)
| Pictured above: EVERYONE WHO HAS ANY INFLUENCE ON MY PLANS. DAMN YOU. |
Surprisingly, I'm not a wreck. I'm actually feeling really good, and way more optimistic than I thought I would be. Especially considering how anxious I am. I thrive on routine and "change" is a big fat scary boogeyman (unless I instigate the change, of course).
My being okay with this transition is no reflection on my trainer. Pretty sure he was frickin AWESOME and changed my life in ways I never could have or would have on my own. Buuuuuut...
Sometimes change is a good thing. Changing up my routine. Changing up my guidance. Exploring new mentors and new methods and new places. But a lot of change can lead to stress. Especially for an anxious little bee like myself.
In addition to my trainer leaving...
My trusty, rusty Toyota finally went to the big scrap heap in the sky. It's been sitting in a parking lot at Van's service for a week, waiting to be pitifully hauled away. Because of this...
My husband had to get a new job. Which is stressful for both him AND me. Also...
It's the beginning of a new semester. Which means ten tons of work and no time for funsies. And...
We have so much mandatory overtime at work right now it's not even cool.
What's the point? Am I looking for sympathy? Empathy? A getaway car?
Nope, just wanted to say, as much as I hate change, and sometimes transitions can suck it, I'm handling this pretty well.
And, cornball as it seems, I feel like, in large part, it has to do with my new habits.
I eliminate stress by moving my body (exercise) or sitting completely still (meditating) and if all else fails, I take a nap. In the past, I stifled my emotions and bottled up my stress by eating or getting drunk (or smoking stuff). Not the awesome-ist plan ever, and really stupid when you remember that I'm an educated person.
So thanks again to my lovely health gurus. Without your guidance, I'd be navigating all this change and transition with gin and Funyuns instead of deadlifts and cardio and naps and guided meditation.
Everyone knows deadlifts are more fun than gin, anyways. And I can't wait until my new trainer makes me do them until I swear at her. :)
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Cyberbullying
Lots of people have asked over the past year, why I don't make a public facebook page like Sunshine's Journey, LoseitconKatie, PrissyMelissa, etc. This post should explain everything...
I want to talk for a minute about bullying.
Specifically, cyberbullying. Among adults. Ugh.
About two years ago, I posted a comment on a blog. The topic of the blog was basically "fat people are disgusting, are responsible for the downfall of society, and should all be killed." It was titled something else, but those comments/sentiments were all present in the blog entry. I'd link it, but about two months after that, the woman thankfully took down all her hateful social media accounts and dismantled her blog. Hooray!
However, before that, she took it upon herself to try to "ruin" me. She read my comment, used my Facebook and Instagram accounts (both set as privately as possible, btw) to find out my full name, city, and employer, and set apart attempting to destroy my life. She sent an email to the customer service department at my workplace claiming that I'd sent her death threats (not true) and that I was using company time to harass and defame her (also not true). She posted links to my etsy site, facebook, instragram, and a twitter account that I started and then used twice in like 2007 on her twitter and blog. She threatened to post my address and send her "fans" after me. She threatened to sue me and call the frickin Inspector General's office to have my nursing license revoked. Thank god for timestamps and my company having common sense, or one simple, innocuous comment on a blog post could have had serious consequences for my career and life.
I changed all my internet personas to my fake stripper name.
Fast forward two years.
I've been following a lot of weight loss related Facebook and Instagram "celebrities" (I don't know what other word to use). They are a kind of support system for me, which is why I follow them. They bravely share their journeys with the world at large, and may suffer because of it. People can be downright hateful.
One, in particular, was the victim of such hatred this very week.
Her name is Stasia2point0, and she lives in AZ. Over the past several months, she has lost almost 100lb from her starting weight of 500lb. She has had some financial troubles, which she posts about from time to time. Some of her followers have taken it upon themselves to help her financially. COMPLETELY THEIR CHOICE. Recently, someone started a gofundme campaign to get her a new computer so she can start a youtube channel. I have to be honest, this elicited the biggest eyeroll of my life (seriously...a $2600 Macbook to make youtube videos? Come on...) but it was not her doing. It was one of her followers. If they want to get her a fancy ass computer, more power to them!
Another website of forums about bloggers got wind of this and went apeshit crazy. It started innocently enough...people expressed annoyance that she talks about her financial problems so much and felt she was grifting for gifts and money. While i have to admit, on a fitness page, the constant talk of financial needs gets annoying, money problems are part of general wellness, and it's her page, she can post what she damn well pleases. When it gets overwhelming, I just don't visit her page for a few days. That's the beauty of the internet, and life in general...ignore shit you don't like and move the hell on.
Anyway, the forum then dissolved into people questioning her honesty. Fair enough, I can imagine being skeptical of someone you don't know...but why waste your time speculating about it?
And then it further spiraled into people pulling her accounts from dating websites and commenting on her body, calling her names, critiquing her progress and whether it was good enough or fast enough, and basically tearing her down to make themselves feel good.
How, I ask you, HOW IS THAT PRODUCTIVE? Don't people have anything better to do with their time than call someone fat and make them feel sad? Dudes...Stasia knows she's got weight to lose, that's why she's on this health/fitness journey.
Do I agree with everything the woman has ever done or said? No. Does that matter? Not really. Does it justify calling her names and being hateful? HELL TO THE NO. I wouldn't wish what happened to her this week upon my worst enemy. Whether or not she is right in her actions, nobody deserves to be the subject of ridicule.
With the backlash from a blog post that I wrote about 6 weeks ago about nutritional supplements, I can't imagine how much worse it would have been if I'd had a public page or advertised/professional blog. The few assholes I got negativity and namecalling from could have (would have) been hundreds. I get down on myself enough without outside help, thankyouverymuch.
The moral of the story:
-My journey is for me and me alone. Yes, it makes me feel good when people say I motivate or inspire them, but that's not what this is about.
-I hope Stasia doesn't let this event tear her down. She is currently taking a social media hiatus and I hope, as it was for me, the hiatus is what she needs to remember why she is doing this and what really matters. And that she doesn't let this setback define her journey.
Have a MAGNIFICENT day! :)
I want to talk for a minute about bullying.
Specifically, cyberbullying. Among adults. Ugh.
About two years ago, I posted a comment on a blog. The topic of the blog was basically "fat people are disgusting, are responsible for the downfall of society, and should all be killed." It was titled something else, but those comments/sentiments were all present in the blog entry. I'd link it, but about two months after that, the woman thankfully took down all her hateful social media accounts and dismantled her blog. Hooray!
However, before that, she took it upon herself to try to "ruin" me. She read my comment, used my Facebook and Instagram accounts (both set as privately as possible, btw) to find out my full name, city, and employer, and set apart attempting to destroy my life. She sent an email to the customer service department at my workplace claiming that I'd sent her death threats (not true) and that I was using company time to harass and defame her (also not true). She posted links to my etsy site, facebook, instragram, and a twitter account that I started and then used twice in like 2007 on her twitter and blog. She threatened to post my address and send her "fans" after me. She threatened to sue me and call the frickin Inspector General's office to have my nursing license revoked. Thank god for timestamps and my company having common sense, or one simple, innocuous comment on a blog post could have had serious consequences for my career and life.
I changed all my internet personas to my fake stripper name.
Fast forward two years.
I've been following a lot of weight loss related Facebook and Instagram "celebrities" (I don't know what other word to use). They are a kind of support system for me, which is why I follow them. They bravely share their journeys with the world at large, and may suffer because of it. People can be downright hateful.
One, in particular, was the victim of such hatred this very week.
Her name is Stasia2point0, and she lives in AZ. Over the past several months, she has lost almost 100lb from her starting weight of 500lb. She has had some financial troubles, which she posts about from time to time. Some of her followers have taken it upon themselves to help her financially. COMPLETELY THEIR CHOICE. Recently, someone started a gofundme campaign to get her a new computer so she can start a youtube channel. I have to be honest, this elicited the biggest eyeroll of my life (seriously...a $2600 Macbook to make youtube videos? Come on...) but it was not her doing. It was one of her followers. If they want to get her a fancy ass computer, more power to them!
Another website of forums about bloggers got wind of this and went apeshit crazy. It started innocently enough...people expressed annoyance that she talks about her financial problems so much and felt she was grifting for gifts and money. While i have to admit, on a fitness page, the constant talk of financial needs gets annoying, money problems are part of general wellness, and it's her page, she can post what she damn well pleases. When it gets overwhelming, I just don't visit her page for a few days. That's the beauty of the internet, and life in general...ignore shit you don't like and move the hell on.
Anyway, the forum then dissolved into people questioning her honesty. Fair enough, I can imagine being skeptical of someone you don't know...but why waste your time speculating about it?
And then it further spiraled into people pulling her accounts from dating websites and commenting on her body, calling her names, critiquing her progress and whether it was good enough or fast enough, and basically tearing her down to make themselves feel good.
How, I ask you, HOW IS THAT PRODUCTIVE? Don't people have anything better to do with their time than call someone fat and make them feel sad? Dudes...Stasia knows she's got weight to lose, that's why she's on this health/fitness journey.
Do I agree with everything the woman has ever done or said? No. Does that matter? Not really. Does it justify calling her names and being hateful? HELL TO THE NO. I wouldn't wish what happened to her this week upon my worst enemy. Whether or not she is right in her actions, nobody deserves to be the subject of ridicule.
With the backlash from a blog post that I wrote about 6 weeks ago about nutritional supplements, I can't imagine how much worse it would have been if I'd had a public page or advertised/professional blog. The few assholes I got negativity and namecalling from could have (would have) been hundreds. I get down on myself enough without outside help, thankyouverymuch.
The moral of the story:
-My journey is for me and me alone. Yes, it makes me feel good when people say I motivate or inspire them, but that's not what this is about.
-I hope Stasia doesn't let this event tear her down. She is currently taking a social media hiatus and I hope, as it was for me, the hiatus is what she needs to remember why she is doing this and what really matters. And that she doesn't let this setback define her journey.
Have a MAGNIFICENT day! :)
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Let's talk about how awesome we are
I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty damn awesome.
I'm feeling so dang good lately, if I wasn't me, I'd want to BE me. I feel like I'm covered in a thin layer of glitter and unicorn farts (which, btw, smell like carrot cake I think) and I want to stand on top of a tall building with a megaphone shouting compliments to everyone so they feel as good as I feel.
That sort of thing is probably frowned upon. Also, I don't own a megaphone and the tallest building in my city (where I work, incidentally) is a whopping 10 stories. And there is no roof access unless you work for maintenance and wear a harness.
Thanks, little turtle!
Anyway, the awesomeness has little to do with weight loss at this point (though don't get me wrong, I still love that "side effect" of my nutrition and exercise plan and hope it continues for awhile). It's about doing things that make me happy, and how those things have changed over the past year to include a lot of healthy, active things.
I sometimes worry that people will misinterpret my newfound self-respect and happiness with arrogance and fat-shaming. Please, please, please, don't misinterpret it, because being arrogant and shaming people are two of the last things I would ever want to do. I've learned over the past several months that interpretation can cause serious problems and that the way a message is received is often more important than the way it's intended.
But also...I AM AWESOME AND I WANT TO SHOUT IT FROM THE TOP OF THE JOHNSON BANK BUILDING.
And more importantly...YOU are awesome and it's high time you knew it. If you already knew, kudos to you for realizing your amazingness. If you didn't know, well...welcome to the amazeballs club. It's pretty exclusive and I'm 100% sure you deserve to be a member. The only membership requirements are to take care of yourself (whatever that means to you!) and recognize your fabulousness. Your club t-shirt is in the mail.
I'm feeling so dang good lately, if I wasn't me, I'd want to BE me. I feel like I'm covered in a thin layer of glitter and unicorn farts (which, btw, smell like carrot cake I think) and I want to stand on top of a tall building with a megaphone shouting compliments to everyone so they feel as good as I feel.
That sort of thing is probably frowned upon. Also, I don't own a megaphone and the tallest building in my city (where I work, incidentally) is a whopping 10 stories. And there is no roof access unless you work for maintenance and wear a harness.
I was thinking...what is it that's making me feel so awesome? Good choices! Taking care of myself (physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually). Doing things that make me happy!
What awesome decisions have you made for yourself today? This week? This month? I hope you can think of at least 10 nice things you've done for yourself this month and/or 10 amazing, wonderful things about your fabulous, bad-ass self. Actually, I hope you can think of a lot more than that...but if you can't think of at least 10, you let me know, because we need to talk. Every time you treat yourself with respect and love, it's a tiny victory. Every time I make the choice to treat myself well, I picture this little turtle cheering me on:
 |
| Hooray! Good choices! Eeeeeeeee! |
Thanks, little turtle!
Anyway, the awesomeness has little to do with weight loss at this point (though don't get me wrong, I still love that "side effect" of my nutrition and exercise plan and hope it continues for awhile). It's about doing things that make me happy, and how those things have changed over the past year to include a lot of healthy, active things.
I sometimes worry that people will misinterpret my newfound self-respect and happiness with arrogance and fat-shaming. Please, please, please, don't misinterpret it, because being arrogant and shaming people are two of the last things I would ever want to do. I've learned over the past several months that interpretation can cause serious problems and that the way a message is received is often more important than the way it's intended.
But also...I AM AWESOME AND I WANT TO SHOUT IT FROM THE TOP OF THE JOHNSON BANK BUILDING.
And more importantly...YOU are awesome and it's high time you knew it. If you already knew, kudos to you for realizing your amazingness. If you didn't know, well...welcome to the amazeballs club. It's pretty exclusive and I'm 100% sure you deserve to be a member. The only membership requirements are to take care of yourself (whatever that means to you!) and recognize your fabulousness. Your club t-shirt is in the mail.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Trust the Process
I have a confession to make.
I weigh myself every day.
Sometimes multiple times a day.
I know, it's horrible. My trainer AND my nutritionist both tell me, in the nicest way possible, that I'm a freakin' idiot for doing this. And yet I can't stop.
I have to do it. I don't punish myself on "bad" days or reward myself on "good" days, I just have to know what the scale says!
I feel weird when I don't weigh myself. It's obsessive and I know it's bad, but I do it. Confession over.
Let's talk about why this may be the crappiest idea ever.
Last month, I went to my nutritionist's office for my body comp appt, like I always do. She weighs and measures me, sticks the EKG patches to my hand and foot and then we chat about how things went and she answers my 10,000 inevitable questions.
Last month, I weighed in at 255, which for me is pretty damn good. Friggin amazeballs good, actually.
The next day, and for about 2 weeks afterward, I consistently weighed in at 255. Sometimes my body likes to hold on to weight for as long as humanly possible and then drop several pounds overnight, so I wasn't too concerned or annoyed at this point.
Then, things took what I thought was a horrible turn. My weight started to creep upwards. A few days later, it was 257. Then 260. 261. 262. Another week and a half later and I was holding steady at 266.
And I was PISSED.
I was (am) still working out as much as I have been for the past year, 5-6x weekly for an hour. I had (have) been eating the same healthy, whole foods as I always have been.
Why in the holy hell had I gained 11 pounds in less than a month? I could understand it if I had avoided the gym all month and taken to eating a steady diet of cupcakes and Cheetos. In fact, I briefly considered eating cupcakes and Cheetos, because why not? If I'm going to gain weight anyway, I might as well go down in flames...
About 4 days before my nutritionist appointment, my weight started to trend downwards. It finally "landed" at 256, one pound above where I'd started the month (although my bathroom is an electromagnetic black hole...every scale that enters it becomes 2-5 lb heavy within 6 weeks, no lie).
I asked my nutritionist about my body's love of holding on to weight and then dumping several pounds instantaneously instead of gradually letting it go. Apparently, normal. I also asked her about my rapid weight gain this month and told her how pissed I was. After telling me (again) to stop weighing myself every damn day, she told me this can be normal, too. *le sigh* I don't WANT to gain weight when I'm working my ass off! Even if it's muscle and water (two things that I actually need to gain).
I hopped on the scale.
253.
Ok, not fantastic, but a loss. I'll take it.
Then she did my body composition analysis.
And this, my friends, is why you should not weigh yourself every day.
Even though I "only" lost 2 lb on the scale, I lost 12 lb of fat.
I also gained muscle and several pounds of water. I know a lot of people hear "water weight gain" and think of edema or bloating, but I'm chronically dehydrated despite drinking 3-5 Nalgenes of water a day, so for me, numerous pounds of water weight gain was excellent news.
The moral of the story?
I weigh myself every day.
Sometimes multiple times a day.
I know, it's horrible. My trainer AND my nutritionist both tell me, in the nicest way possible, that I'm a freakin' idiot for doing this. And yet I can't stop.
I have to do it. I don't punish myself on "bad" days or reward myself on "good" days, I just have to know what the scale says!
I feel weird when I don't weigh myself. It's obsessive and I know it's bad, but I do it. Confession over.
Let's talk about why this may be the crappiest idea ever.
Last month, I went to my nutritionist's office for my body comp appt, like I always do. She weighs and measures me, sticks the EKG patches to my hand and foot and then we chat about how things went and she answers my 10,000 inevitable questions.
Last month, I weighed in at 255, which for me is pretty damn good. Friggin amazeballs good, actually.
The next day, and for about 2 weeks afterward, I consistently weighed in at 255. Sometimes my body likes to hold on to weight for as long as humanly possible and then drop several pounds overnight, so I wasn't too concerned or annoyed at this point.
Then, things took what I thought was a horrible turn. My weight started to creep upwards. A few days later, it was 257. Then 260. 261. 262. Another week and a half later and I was holding steady at 266.
And I was PISSED.
I was (am) still working out as much as I have been for the past year, 5-6x weekly for an hour. I had (have) been eating the same healthy, whole foods as I always have been.
Why in the holy hell had I gained 11 pounds in less than a month? I could understand it if I had avoided the gym all month and taken to eating a steady diet of cupcakes and Cheetos. In fact, I briefly considered eating cupcakes and Cheetos, because why not? If I'm going to gain weight anyway, I might as well go down in flames...
About 4 days before my nutritionist appointment, my weight started to trend downwards. It finally "landed" at 256, one pound above where I'd started the month (although my bathroom is an electromagnetic black hole...every scale that enters it becomes 2-5 lb heavy within 6 weeks, no lie).
I asked my nutritionist about my body's love of holding on to weight and then dumping several pounds instantaneously instead of gradually letting it go. Apparently, normal. I also asked her about my rapid weight gain this month and told her how pissed I was. After telling me (again) to stop weighing myself every damn day, she told me this can be normal, too. *le sigh* I don't WANT to gain weight when I'm working my ass off! Even if it's muscle and water (two things that I actually need to gain).
I hopped on the scale.
253.
Ok, not fantastic, but a loss. I'll take it.
Then she did my body composition analysis.
And this, my friends, is why you should not weigh yourself every day.
Even though I "only" lost 2 lb on the scale, I lost 12 lb of fat.
I also gained muscle and several pounds of water. I know a lot of people hear "water weight gain" and think of edema or bloating, but I'm chronically dehydrated despite drinking 3-5 Nalgenes of water a day, so for me, numerous pounds of water weight gain was excellent news.
The moral of the story?
I hate hokey crap. "Trust the process." "Find your zen." "Keep calm and carry on." "#blessed" "If you build it, they will come."
Ugh. Just give me the info and/or tell me what to do without the crispy new age coating, please.
But in this case, true. Trust the process, indeed. "The process" has been serving me well for over a year now, one perceived setback shouldn't derail me.
Especially because it turned out to be AWESOME and not a setback at all.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Jen, Amanda, and Donovan are my dream team
As we're nearing my one year fit-iversary, there are some serious thank yous in order. Consider this my Oscar speech to the awesome trifecta that keeps me going.
 |
| Oh! This is so unexpected, I don't even have a speech prepared... |
JEN, MY QUEEN.
Oh, Jen. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I adore your face off. My life would be so different if I hadn't been fortunate enough to win Pay it Forward last year. I would still feel like crap and treat my body like crap allllll the time. I'd be tired and sad and miserable. I'd be pretending to be happy and feeling anything but. You are such an amazing role model and friend to me. I'm SO lucky to know you!
AMANDA.
You, my dear, are amazing. I look forward to our appointments with you and love when I run into you at the gym! You've taught me to fuel my body to be my best and to stop treating my body like a garbage disposal and instead, treat it like the amazing, beautiful machine that it is. Seems simple, but for me, it was a revelation! I hope everyone who works with you knows how lucky they are.
DONOVAN.
I know you've told me I'm the one doing the work, not you, but that's not entirely true. Without your guidance, support, and motivation, I wouldn't have come nearly as far this year as I have. And it's not just about the weight I've lost. I've overcome so many things by realizing and improving my strength and have uncovered self-confidence that I didn't even know I had. A million thank you's aren't enough.
EVERYONE ELSE.
If you're reading this, you've also been an integral part of this adventure. Whether from words of encouragement, high-fives, emotional support, listening to my constant complaining/stories/bragging, whatever. You all rock my socks off.
Friday, April 10, 2015
In response to the responses...
So, my last entry seriously pissed some people off, apparently.
And I'm sorry about that.
Not for what I wrote. Not to sound like a petulant child, but this is my blog and I will write as I see fit. It will always be my opinion and my experiences, not yours. If you disagree with what I'm saying, that's cool (and to be expected...if we were all the same, the world would be pretty dang dull). Start your own blog and write whatever the hell you want. Heck, start a blog about how stupid I am and how I know nothing about meal replacement products. I'm sure you'd get quite a few followers.
BUT.
PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE ALERT: If my "slamming" your beloved meal replacements upsets you so much that you need to write me a nasty Facebook message about it, I urge you to check your priorities. That goes for all of you who felt the need to send me messages, or wrote posts about me...even if you were "clever" enough to do it passive-aggressively (without mentioning me by name). You know who you are.
Is my opinion about meal replacements really THAT important to you? Honestly?
Are your meal replacements really worth attacking someone over?
Are they really?
REALLY?
Because they're meal replacements and I'm a human. I'm just saying. That's messed up. I mean, I know I tipped your sacred cow...but dang.
To close, let me quote myself directly from the blog that pissed people off so very much:
If you choose to drink/eat this stuff, more power to you! I've just been asked repeatedly why I don't, and growing increasingly frustrated with all the propaganda that comes my way from well-meaning friends. Just like the clothes you wear, totally your choice. Just 100% not for me. :)
Totally your choice. More power to you. Just
100% not for me. The end.
MIC DROP.
And I'm sorry about that.
Not for what I wrote. Not to sound like a petulant child, but this is my blog and I will write as I see fit. It will always be my opinion and my experiences, not yours. If you disagree with what I'm saying, that's cool (and to be expected...if we were all the same, the world would be pretty dang dull). Start your own blog and write whatever the hell you want. Heck, start a blog about how stupid I am and how I know nothing about meal replacement products. I'm sure you'd get quite a few followers.
BUT.
PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE ALERT: If my "slamming" your beloved meal replacements upsets you so much that you need to write me a nasty Facebook message about it, I urge you to check your priorities. That goes for all of you who felt the need to send me messages, or wrote posts about me...even if you were "clever" enough to do it passive-aggressively (without mentioning me by name). You know who you are.
Is my opinion about meal replacements really THAT important to you? Honestly?
Are your meal replacements really worth attacking someone over?
Are they really?
REALLY?
Because they're meal replacements and I'm a human. I'm just saying. That's messed up. I mean, I know I tipped your sacred cow...but dang.
To close, let me quote myself directly from the blog that pissed people off so very much:
If you choose to drink/eat this stuff, more power to you! I've just been asked repeatedly why I don't, and growing increasingly frustrated with all the propaganda that comes my way from well-meaning friends. Just like the clothes you wear, totally your choice. Just 100% not for me. :)
Totally your choice. More power to you. Just
100% not for me. The end.
MIC DROP.
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