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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Choices

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.

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!

I've written about priorities before.  I'll probably write about priorities again, because it's something I constantly have to remind myself of.  I have several priorities in my life that are constantly competing for the top position.  Work, school, my marriage, my friends, my family, Taco, home maintenance, my health.

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.

The times they are a-changin'

It's time for a transition.  A new start.  New adventures.  A change.  *BARF*

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.

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. :)

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.

Your meal replacement product is absolute crap.

Let me start by saying this is strictly my opinion of products.  NOT the people who sell them.  Also...it's an opinion.  I'm not an expert (obvi).

Now that I have your attention...

Hi there.

People ask me all the time what steps I've taken to lose all this weight and get heathier this year.

When I tell them, "clean eating and LOTS of exercise," the vast majority of them stand there, waiting for me to continue speaking.  When I don't, they invariably ask...

"No supplements?"

"No meal replacements?"

No.  None of that stuff.

Actual, factual food, and real, hard work.  Boom.  End of story.

When they then ask why I don't use Shakeology/Isagenix/Advocare/Herbalife, my response is invariably say this:
1) I'm doing fantastic without it.
2) most of them suck and aren't really that healthy
3) I'm not a fan of MLM in general
4) I don't want to pay for something that I feel has no value

I have a science background.   Buzzwords don't get me excited.  Facts do.

If this is the healthiest meal of your day, I'd hate to see what kind of crap you're eating the rest of the day.

You know what else builds champions?  Hard work.

No comment.

Their logo is green, so it has to be healthy...right?

Now, I know I just raised a lot of hackles.  Like half the people I know from the gym are slaves to Isagenix.  An online fitness group I participate in is on the Shakeology train.  I have co-workers who sell and use Herbalife, and relatives that sell and use Advocare.  Universally, people who use this type of product are fanatically devoted to it.  And that's cool...whatever floats your boat!

I just don't feel any of it is necessary, or healthy.

Here is why.

Exhibit A:  http://www.ancestral-nutrition.com/an-unbiased-review-of-herbalife/

Exhibit B: http://www.ancestral-nutrition.com/unbiased-review-shakeology/

Exhibit C: http://www.ancestral-nutrition.com/an-unbiased-review-of-isagenix/

Exhibit D: http://www.ancestral-nutrition.com/an-unbiased-review-of-advocare/

Please read the one(s) that pertain to you.  I'll wait here.

Ok, now that you've read the one(s) that pertain to you and are armed with a billion reasons why X-brand shake and bar and vitamins are the best thing ever, let me lay this on you...

I am aware that Dani's research is imperfect.  However, it's the first research I've seen that wasn't funded and published by the company selling the product.

I've seen dozens upon dozens of articles touting the awesomeness of these products.  I've seen Facebook links to information about their "nutritional quality."  100% of these articles and links have been directly from the company itself.

That's not research, guys.

That's propaganda.

And after every article about the "nutritional quality" are testimonials.  Sometimes the testimonials are from happy customers.  SOMETIMES THEY ARE FROM PEOPLE WHO'VE MADE A LOT OF MONEY PEDDLING THIS STUFF.  Red flag, yo.  The people I know that sell and use these products are good people...but it's easy to see how some shady characters could take serious advantage of people.  This is why I don't like MLM.

I've also had a lot of conversations with friends saying, "Well, X-brand may not be perfect, but it's better than Y-brand."

Being the best out of a category of not great things is still not good.

I think the number one reason why these products piss me off is this...

Many of them are officially called "meal replacement" items, but are heavily marketed as weight loss items.  "Slimcakes?"  "Isalean?"  "Advocare: We build champions?"  Come on.  Tell me that's not pushing overweight people to drop ten tons of money on snacks and shakes filled with chemicals, sugars, and GMOs, with a few "organic superfoods" thrown in to make the package wording sound appealing.

Every health professional I've talked to (not fitness professionals, heath professionals...nurses, doctors, chiropractors, and nutritionists) has told me they would never recommend this stuff to their clients or patients.  They do admit they've had patients who've lost weight using these products, but the vast majority have gained it back, plus some, once they stop the system.

And don't even get me started on cleanses.  Unless you have renal disease or liver failure, or for some reason, your body doesn't sweat, poop, or pee, I'm pretty sure Mother Nature designed your body to effectively "cleanse" itself without any outside help or starving.


I'm going to go ahead and read some of your minds right now...
Uh, Angie, WTF makes you such an expert?
You've only been "living this lifestyle" for like a year, what do you know?
Have you ever even TRIED these products?

Not an expert, just sharing my opinion and some unbiased, non-sponsored research.
In "living this lifestyle" along with my years of school in biochemistry, anatomy, physiology, and pathophysiology, I know a few things about the human body and how it works...and about how my human body has responded to exercise and real food.
I've tried three of the four companies and was not impressed by any of them.


I have a long way to go on my journey, but I've already come pretty far without the help of additives.  I think people sometimes want an easy solution, and that's not realistic.

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. :)

Finally...

Just because it's vegan doesn't mean it's healthy.  Oreos are vegan.

Just because its organic doesn't mean it's healthy.  There are organic cigarettes.

EAT REAL FOOD.

Vacation! Subtitle: I am AWESOME.

I just got back from a frickin amazeballs family vacation.  Myself, the hubs, and my mom and pops flew out to Phoenix last week and then met my sibs in Flagstaff.

We stayed in a sweet rental house (thanks, Ma and Pa) and hiked all over God's green earth.


We saw First People's homes built into the sides of cliffs.



We hiked the Grand Canyon.

We hiked for MILES around Sedona.

We went to a weird little town called Jerome, built into the side of a mountain.

We explored Phoenix and Flagstaff.

We sat in a hot tub for hours.

We got up and drove two hours to see an amazing sunrise.

We saw tons of elk so close to us we could have touched them (if it weren't for fleas and early mating-season aggression, that is).

I got to see my college roomie and fetus friend and her husband, and meet their sweet daughter Aida.

I ate fajitas pretty much every day.

I had amazing tequila (sorry not sorry, Amanda and Donovan).




But let's talk about the best parts.

It started with me sitting in an airplane seat comfortably.  My ass fit and everything.  It was a spring break miracle.
And then.  AND THEN!  I buckled my airplane seatbelt.  Without.  A.  Seatbelt.  Extender.  For the first time since before I met my husband.
Then, I put the tray table down and it didn't smack my boobs or my food baby on the way down.
And then I hiked for miles and miles up and down and around a mountain in Sedona and kept up with my family.
And then I hiked straight down into a gorge and back out.
And then I hiked around the Grand Canyon rim.

And then I hiked into the Grand Canyon (not all the way to the bottom, I don't have a death wish) to see a fossil wall and back out.
And then I comfortably sat in yet another airplane seat, buckled yet another airplane seatbelt without an extender, and used another tray table without my boobs or food baby getting in the way.

While tramping all over AZ, I thought a lot about the last vacation I took, when my husband, my bestie and I drove to Montana to meet my siblings.  It was gorgeous and amazing, and I missed out on parts of it because I had no stamina, no energy, and was unbelievably out of shape.  Instead of dwelling on that and feeling sad, I was (am) overjoyed that's no longer the case.  I can do the things I want to (most of them, anyway) and don't have to miss out on anything I want to do because of my fitness, or lack thereof.

Amazing how much can change in just under a year, huh?

A despreate plea on behalf of my trainer

I'm making a desperate plea to all fellow gym-goers out there.

For the love of God and all things holy...

RE-RACK YOUR WEIGHTS.

CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DAMN SELF.

If you want to see a generally kind, patient, positive, and sweet man (or any gym employee/polite gym-goer, really) get even a little bit annoyed, by all means, leave your weights on the machine.  Hell, leave them on the floor!  Re-rack multiple weights of plates on the same bar (this is most effective if you put 5lb plates under/before like 35-45lb plates). 

Mind you, this same man had the patience to tolerate listening to my whiny voice for 30 straight minutes today without acting upon his probable desire to smack me in the face to shut me up (but come ON, he made me do thrusters.  THRUSTERS, Y'ALL.  UGH.  Plus I'm just having one of those days...)...so it's not as if he's easily annoyed.

But what he cannot tolerate is a messy gym.

YOUR MOTHER DOES NOT WORK AT THE GYM.

YOUR CLEANING LADY/MAID DOES NOT WORK AT THE GYM.

And when you leave your crap all over the place for others (ie, employees, myself, other members) to clean up, it leaves me to draw one of five conclusions:

1) You are oblivious.

2) You were raised by wolves.

3) You are an asshole.

4) You are lazy.

5) Any/all of the above.

Ok, well this last one is sexist, but I can see how it would motivate the "bro" population to clean up after their damn selves.

Barbara Walters

Recently, my nutritionist asked me to film a testimonial to use in their office and/or on commercials.  I was flattered, honored, and, quite frankly, surprised to be asked.

But I'd be lying if I said I had no reservations.

My first thought was, "Uh, are you sure you want a client that has a solid 100lb left to lose to represent your business?"

But then I thought, "Hell, yes, you want me to do it.  Because I'm frickin awesome."

Because if a sedentary lady who was 200lb overweight, works full time, goes to graduate school full time, and volunteers for BBBS every week can make time to make health and fitness a priority, anybody can.

So, I said yes.

I went to the interview today.

It.  Was.  So.  Nervewracking.

Last time I did something similar, it was for live TV.  My palms were sweaty and cold and I was a little nauseated.

I thought...well, this time it's just me and my interviewer and a cameraman.  The interviewer's name was Bill Murray.  So excellent.

Sadly, 'twas not this Bill Murray.  But he was pretty cool nonetheless.

They're going to keep rolling until they get good footage and just use that, so it won't be so bad.

Or so I thought.

Until I cried.

Yes, that's right, I cried.  While being interviewed.  For a frickin commercial.  They were taping the entire time.  I probably had snot bubbles and everything.  Are you surprised?  I cry all the damn time!  Soooooooooo awkward.

But in my defense, it's not my fault.

He totally "Barbara Walters-ed" me.

If her tactics make Oprah cry, what hope did I have of keeping my tears in check?

After talking about the weight I've lost, doing the obligatory "posing" that comes along with it (awkward but hilarious), talking about why I believe in Nutritional Healing, and how amazeballs I feel, he asked how I felt before.

So, I started rattling of info about my sleep apnea, my hypertension and palpitations, and my crappy energy level, he stopped me and said "that's great, but we also need to hear about how you FELT before."

So I thought about it for a second.  And promptly lost my shit.

I started talking about how I didn't feel like a good nurse, a good wife, a good friend, or even a good mom to Taco.  About how I missed out on things and held myself back from doing things because I had no stamina and no energy.  About how my self-worth and pride were about a zero on a 1-10 scale.  While talking about these things, I cried big fat crocodile tears.  I actually wore makeup, and my tears left glamorous tracks riiiiiight through it.

I SAID ALL OF THIS STUFF.  OUT LOUD.  WHILE BEING FILMED.  FOR A TELEVISION COMMERCIAL.

I'm all about honesty and transparency, but DAMMIT ANYWAY, WHY COULDN'T I JUST HOLD MY SHIT TOGETHER??

Le sigh.


And that's what happens when the most awkward, emotional woman in northeast Wisconsin films a video testimonial.

Oh well.  I'll be interested to see the final product of today's ridiculousness. :)

Show and Tell

I'm experiencing an interesting phenomenon, in which I find myself wanting to cover my body more as it gets smaller.

It's odd, to say the least.

But not as odd as this photo that comes up when you google "very conservative dress."  Congratulations, you look like a human-sized crocheted condom.

Previously, I kept parts of me covered and hidden, all the time, no matter what.  To draw emphasis away from the parts of me that I didn't like (aka, almost everything), I wore a lot of makeup and cleavage-bearing shirts.  I've always loved my face and boobs.

Get it?  CLEAVAGE?  You're welcome, fellow nerds.

Anyway, before I started working out, eating well, and subsequently losing weight, I'd always thought that when I got thinner (notice I said thinNER, not thin.  I'm positive, not delusional) I'd want to show my body off.  New, cute clothes are a huge motivation for some people to lose weight.  Heck; new, cute clothes were one of my 1000 motivations to begin treating my body with more respect.  And generally speaking, in my mind, this involved a fair deal of visible skin.

What I've found is actually pretty surprising.

The exact opposite thing is happening.  The more weight I lose, the more I want to keep my body covered.

It's not because I'm ashamed.  It's not because I feel deformed, or gross, or like my formerly fatter self is in some way unworthy.

It's not because I have extra skin that I'm self-conscious about (not yet, anyway.  I've been lucky so far to have my skin recede with the rest of me, but I anticipate that this will be coming in the future.  It's almost impossible to escape it, so I'm just waiting.  Don't worry, I'm sure there will be some TMI blog posts when it happens).

On the contrary.

I am insanely proud of my "new" body (though it's not really new, it's just changed).

I worked (and am working) hard for it.

For the first time in forever, I feel like I own my body.

As soon as I typed the above sentence, I started singing songs from "Frozen."  Earworm level: 1000

Thus: I don't feel like I need to display it to prove my beauty, or my hard work, or my perseverance, or my sexiness, or my femininity, or anything.

I worked hard for it for ME.

NOT FOR YOU (well, not YOU specifically, dear reader...other people in general).

I will enjoy it as I see fit.

Of note, I've also completely stopped wearing makeup over the past year.  Mostly, this is practical in nature...I like a naked face when I work out.  I feel like if I worked out in makeup, my skin would feel choked and weird.  Plus, my face sweats like crazy, and nobody wants to look like a half-melted bomb pop.

Exhibit A.

 Now that I work out every day, it already means washing my face at least four times.  I didn't want to add makeup removal to that.  I'm a busy lady.

PREACH.

Here's the deal:  

While my choices are to eschew makeup (for the most part) and cover my body more than before (for the most part), these are MY choices and are absolutely not right for everyone.  

And my choices and opinions on this (and just about everything) are fluid and subject to change.

Whether you've recently lost weight, gained weight, stayed the same, grown an inch, gotten plastic surgery, are covered in tattoos or virgin-skinned, had a chemical peel, gotten dreadlocks, shaved your head, spent your whole paycheck at the MAC counter, wear combat boots or sky-high heels or Birkenstocks, or all or none of the above...

Whether you want to shake it around town in the nude, rock a burqa, or anything in between...

That's awesome!  Rock on with your badass self!

It's YOUR body, YOUR face, YOUR life.

YOU own it.

YOU earned it.

And everyone who wants to pass judgement can piss right off.

MIC DROP.  SENARIGHI OUT.

Progress update: 9 months in

Well...not quite 9 months.  It'll be 9 months on February 1.  But close enough.

To recap:  9 months ago, my amazing friend Jen (who was, at that time, a complete stranger to me) gave me the best birthday gift I've ever gotten when she selected me to receive a year of Anytime Fitness membership.  I got her call, and was so shocked I don't even think I thanked her while we were on the phone.  I stayed up late to tell my husband that night.  I was so excited and so scared.

On the day Jen gave me my membership, with some of the most awesome people I know (Clockwise from top left: Kirk, Nate, Beth, Jeffer, My awesome self, Donovan, Jen, Jena, Kate, and Mary).  My gurus and one heck of a support team.  They rule.

I went in for my fitness consultation with my trainer on my birthday, and it was probably the most intimidating experience of my life.  I'm used to people listening to me, but having people watch me is completely different.  Especially when I'm doing something that is completely foreign to me, which they do professionally.  Especially with a strange man that I don't know.  Especially when that man is buff and intimidating looking.  I got home and asked Jeff to pummel me with a meat tenderizing mallet (not kidding).  That first day was brutal, physically and mentally.

I started going to Nutritional Healing about a week later.  My nutritionist's advice and recommendations were a complicated mystery of serving numbers and portion sizes.  It was a lot of information to handle at once.

9 months later.  Training is still brutal, but I'm doing things now that I never would have dreamed I'd be able to do in the past.  It still feels kind of awkward to be watched while I work out, but I'm beyond the point where I care.  I huff and puff and make weird faces and get red-faced and sweaty and have to blow my nose like ten times a session and leave covered in chalk.  Control yourselves, single guys and ladies...I look IRRESISTABLE during training.


My nutritionist's recommendations are now second-nature.  Do I still eat chocolate?  Hell yes, because it's amazing, and I'm willing to do the extra minutes on the elliptical that it takes to burn it off.

One of the most surprising things to me is the atmosphere of trust my trainer and I have cultivated.  It's a strange relationship; trainer and client.  It teeters on the border of fitness, counseling, mentoring, friendship, and teacher-student.  It's weird and excellent.  I honestly wasn't sure, at first, if I'd be able to trust my trainer and really let my guard down enough to give 100% during my sessions.  The verbal attacks I've been subjected to in the past have been predominantly from men, and most of those men were very fit; so as a subgroup of the population, I was intimidated and scared of them.  A male trainer that I don't know?  A screaming drill-sargeant, who I am to let in to see my vulnerable self?  Yikes.

Fortunately, I could not have been more wrong.  My trainer, and the other trainers at the gym (whom I ask questions of on an almost daily basis, thanks dudes) are frickin amazing.  No screaming drill-sargeanting happening.  Will he call me out on my bullshit when I'm stalling because I don't want to run?  Yes.  But will he also patiently wait while I mentally prepare myself for box jumps instead of getting impatient?  Also, yes.

Flippin awesome.

Now, let's talk about my nutritionist.  She rocks my socks off.  Every month, Jeffer and I go in to get weighed, measured, and have our composition analyzed.  I'm at the point now where the nutrition is second-nature, but questions consistently come up.  She gives us all the factual information we need, her opinion when we ask for it, and also, calls us out on our bull.  Bonus: she's fun.

So, the updates.
Let's start from the beginning, and let the photos and captions tell the tale.

This is June, 2014.  I was about 6 weeks into my training and had lost 13lbs from my start weight of 350.

August, 2014.

This is October, 2014.  I think I had lost about 60lb at this point.

And this is from today.  Down 92lb from the first photo and 79 from my 32nd birthday.  It's kind of blurry, but you get the idea.  Also, my hair looks fantastic today.

In 9 months, I've lost 79lbs.  Overall, I've lost 92lbs from my heaviest weight.
I actually weigh less now than I did when I was full of parasites living overseas.  Bonus: this weight-loss is much healthier than intestinal worms.  The more you know.
I'm down 5 pants sizes and 3 shirt sizes, 11 inches in my waist and 9.5 in my hips.
My wedding dress has room for a second person to jump into it with me.
My energy level is fantastic.
And my confidence is better than it ever has been.

Now, again, I will say this.  MY VIEWS ON BODY POSITIVITY AT ANY SIZE AND BEAUTY AT ANY SIZE HAVE NOT CHANGED.  I am a champion for body positivity and loving yourself.  As long as you are happy and healthy, I honestly don't give a crap whether you weigh 100lb or 400lb.
My increased confidence is the best thing that's come out of this, and I don't know if it's from the weight loss, how much stronger I've gotten, or both.  But it's excellent.

I'm crushing goals, kicking ass, and taking names.

AND I'M 8LB AWAY FROM MY NEXT TATTOO.

Fat girl shopping

Disclaimers:
1) I am well aware of the fact that as a white American, I am privileged in ways that others are not.  This sucks and is unfair and I know it.
2) I am not trying to get into a "who's more oppressed than whom" pissing match here, just trying to make a point about something that frustrates me to no end.
3) Bah, humbug.

So.  Picture the last time you went shopping.  Just take a minute and try to recall.  What kind of selection was available in your size?  What part of the store was your size carried in?  Did the clothes designed for your gender stop at a certain size, and send all people bigger or smaller than that to a different part of the store to shop?  How was the lighting?  How did the salespeople treat you?

If you're a dude, there are a wide variety of choices available to you.  And whether you waist is 32 inches or 52 inches, your shirt size XS or XXL, in most stores, you can buy pants off the same clothes rack.  You lucky dog!  There are so many options for athletic wear for you that it has it's own section of the store.  Bonus!

If you're an average to below average sized lady, there are a wide variety of choices to you.  There are so many options for athletic wear for you that it often has it's own section of the store.  Bonus!  There are a plethora of brands and styles for you to choose from.  Chances are, if you walk into any store, anywhere (with the exception of plus-sized specialty stores) you can find multiple options in your size.

Another bonus?  Not everything is black!  Average to below average sized ladies are permitted to want colorful things.  You lucky ladies, you!

If you're an above average sized lady, you have known exactly where this was going from the beginning.

Our section of the store is about  1/4-1/3 the size of the "regular" sized ladies clothes, if we're lucky.  A sizable percentage of the options in the section are black, grey, navy, or brown (why would you want to draw attention to your fat by wearing bright colors?).  We are stuffed into the back of the store (why would you want to draw attention to fat people by making their clothing visible?).  If any athletic wear is offered in our size, there is generally one brand available and one rack of it (for example, in the sprawling cacophony that is Scheels, there is exactly one rack of Nike plus-sized athletic wear.  At Target, Kohls, and Younkers, there are exactly zero racks of plus-sized athletic wear.  In Shopko, there is exactly one rack of Energy Zone athletic wear.  I could go on, but you get it).  After all, fatties must not workout or they wouldn't be so fat, right?  RIGHT?

And if you live in a smaller town, things get worse.

When I lived in Door County, I had to drive for an hour JUST TO BUY  BRAS THAT FIT ME.  That's right.  The closest bras that fit my body at that time were in Green Bay.

When I was home for Christmas this year, about 70lb lighter than when I lived in Door County, I wanted new sweatpants, because my old sweatpants fit me 70lb ago and made me look like a hobo.  Even being several sizes smaller (but still a fat girl by all standards, really), I had to go to three stores to find a pair of suitable sweatpants.  SWEATPANTS.  I was not exactly seeking high-fashion...I just wanted something soft to wear to sit on the couch and watch Twilight Zone re-runs.

But seriously.

There are a lot of cute little boutique stores close to my apartment, and I like to window-shop (and sometimes actual-shop).  These boutiques are tiny, have a tiny selection (as most boutiques do, hence the name), with a tiny size offering (small and medium, large if they're feeling generous), and exorbitant prices.  But it's fun to go.  They also sell shoes and bags and household items and things that are accessible to my fat self.

My experience when shopping at these places has been fucking horrible.

If you are fat and walk into Hey, Daisy! for example, the employees will look at you, pause, and then go right back to talking to each other without so much as saying hello.  This happened once and I was annoyed.  This happened again, and I was infuriated.  So I decided to do an experiment.  Of all the specialty shops downtown that sell clothing, exactly one was welcoming and friendly when my fat self walked in (Thanks, Beatnik Betty's!).  The others must have decided that fat money doesn't spend the same and disregarded me.  Yes, I am aware that I will never ever ever fit into your clothing, but there are entire sections of your little store dedicated to things that I might have liked in my life.  That is, until you decided you didn't want my money.  I'm all about supporting local businesses, but downtown Appleton really needs to step up it's customer service game.


Again, I am aware that there are worse atrocities than being shoved to the back of the store to buy a limited selection of shapeless black clothing, and being treated poorly in a retail store.  I KNOW.

I've written about this before.  Why am I revisiting it?  Because it is still happening.  Because it sucks.

Also, because as I get closer and closer to not needing to shop in the fat girl section any more, I get more and more pissed that a fat girl section exists.  It's sizeist and sexist that my father and my husband, with their very different body sizes, can buy pants, belts, and shirts off the same clothing rack, and that my BFF and I, with our different body sizes, can't.  We have to go to opposite ends of the store to get every single garment except shoes.  Sometimes, we have to go to entirely different stores.

Double standard.

Not cool.

Resolutions

It's that magical time of year again.  That time were we flit from party to party, gorging cookies and fudge and Christmas crack and Dutch babies and ham and potatoes and we eat more butter than Paula Deen and more sugar than Wilford Brimley.

Yeeeeeeeeee Haw!

 The spirit of the season, for me, is being with family and loved ones...which frequently seems to revolve around food.  We go to my in-laws house for lunch, my parents house for dinner, co-workers bring delicious treats to work, neighbors bake cookies.  

How in the world do we justify this?

Well, for some of us, this is how we eat all the time, so it's just another day/week/season.

For others, we somehow have the willpower to resist everything delicious and unhealthy that's put in front of is.

And yet others live a primarily healthy lifestyle but have a holiday free-for-all.  Why?

SWEET, GLORIOUS, NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS ARE COMING!

Yes!  That moment when you wake up on January 1st, the whole glorious year ahead of you, is amazing.  It feels like a clean slate!  Every mistake, silly thing, "cheat" day, skipped workout, foul remark, sin, whatever that you participated in over the last year seems like a distant memory...it might as well not exist any more.  You are perfect and your track record is unblemished.  New year, new start.

Remember that scene in Forrest Gump when Forrest and Lieutenant are celebrating New Years with Cunning Carla and Long Limbs Lenore?

You can almost smell the stale cigarette smoke and Dr.Pepper fumes, can't you?

Well, either Carla or Lenore (which one, I haven't the slightest) has a great line, even though she's only in the movie for like 2 minutes.  She says to Forrest:

 "Don't you just love New Years?  You get to start all over again.  Everybody gets a second chance."

And it's so true.  "New year, new me" is the motto of so many people I know.  New Year's Resolutions is one of my most and least favorite traditions.  I've never really gotten in to NY Resolutions - I've always been more of a birthday resolutions type of gal.  For me, turning another year older is a fitting time to try to make a positive change; especially one you've been thinking about for a loooooong time but haven't had the motivation/courage/gumption/ability to try to achieve.  But that's just me.  Lots of people are gung-ho about their NY Resolutions.  And really, ANY time is a fitting time to make a positive change in your life...but New Year's is a milestone date, and people take the opportunity to make promises to themselves.

Preach it, Morpheus.

Until about a month in.  Maybe more if they're REALLY dedicated.  And then a lot of people fall off the resolution wagon.

I looked up some statistics on New Year's Resolutions from the Journal of Clinical Psychology (and no, I will not cite it in APA format).  Apparently 75% of individuals last through one week of their new resolution.  Seventy-one percent last two weeks, 64% make it through an entire month, and only 46% are succeeding at their resolutions after six months or more.

Forty-six percent.  Less than half of us who make resolutions will be successful at six months, and my guess is, even less will be successful long-term.

Why?

THINGS GET IN THE WAY.

We have jobs.  We have wives or husbands or partners or girlfriends or boyfriends or significant others.  We have kids.  We have dogs or cats or parakeets or potbelly pigs or horses or lizards or hedgehogs.  We have houses to maintain.  We have bills to pay.  We have graduate school.  We like to marathon Netflix in our spare time.

In short: We have lives.  Busy, exhausting, stressful lives.  

Another way of putting this:  We do not make ourselves a priority.

Yet another way of putting this:  Some of us thrive on martyrdom and don't ask for help/support when we need it.

We ABSOLUTELY need to make ourselves a priority.  And we ABSOLUTELY need a support system.

I've had a huge mind frame shift this past year, where I'm treating myself like the "leading lady" of my life for the first time, and it's amazing.  

Don't get me wrong...sometimes my "wants" still come after others' "needs."  When my husband is sick and needs me to go to CVS for cough drops and Theraflu instead of getting a second workout in, I do it.  When my dog needs to be walked so I have to take a study break, I do it.  When a co-worker's child is in town from across the country for only a few days, I pick up her shift so she can spend time with him.  But it's all give and take.  When I'm sick, Jeff brings me pho and tea.  Taco rewards me in snuggles and by being adorable.  My co-workers are so flexible and help me out by picking up extra shifts when my sister is in town (and during finals week).  So I'm not saying be a selfish a-hole 100% of the time.  You have to make others your first priority at times.  That pretty much goes without saying.

However, we need to set goals for ourselves and make them a high priority in our lives.  And we need to surround ourselves with people who support our goals and ideally, share our goals.

When I told my husband I wanted to go back to school, we both went about making my success in school a high priority in our lives.  My husband got a new job so we could move to Appleton, I got a job in Appleton, we found a place to live in the area.  We decided to put the quest for a human baby on hold, but decided to get a dog so we'd still have something cuddly to come home to (that's slightly lower-maintenance than a human child.  Slightly).  I made sure my work hours would work around school, he made sure his work hours would allow him to occasionally see his wife.  My success in school is a high priority for both of us because it affects both of our lives.

The same thing happened with getting healthy.  When I was given my ATF membership (thanks Jen, my queen!) and we started seeing a nutritionist, we both started eating better and calling the other one out on unhealthy habits.  When we inadvertently sabotage ourselves or each other, we talk about it.  Eventually, Jeff saw how freakishly strong I was getting and decided to join the gym, too, before I could beat him at arm wrestling (kidding...this may or may not be why he joined.  Also, I will never beat that monster at arm wrestling).

I consider my friends and family a big part of why I've been so successful at last year's birthday resolution.  They support my goals and several of them are either trying to get healthier or living insanely healthy lifestyles already.  It really does help!  

And no, I'm not saying to give up your friends and get new ones.  If your resolution is to quit smoking, by no means do you have to stop hanging out with your smoker friends.  But you do need at least one person in your corner who doesn't smoke or who has successfully quit smoking, to cheer you on and back you up.  They will be your sounding board and motivator.  They'll put you in check if/when you mess up.  They are an integral part of your success.

I'm lucky, I have a LOT of people around to keep me accountable.  The gift-giver, Jen.  Do I want to let her money and time go to waste?  HELL to the no.  Likewise for my nutritionist and trainer...if I don't follow their instructions and do what they tell me to do at home and at the gym, I'm essentially wasting their time and straight up disrespecting them.  I frequently ask myself "What would Amanda/Donovan do?"  I want to be alive, mobile, and healthy for as long as possible to keep being ridiculous with my husband, besties, sibs, and parents, so they're motivating, also.  Even my dog keeps me in check...he needs daily walks and I need to find the time and energy to do it.  And despite his teeny little legs, that fool is FAST.

The moral of the story is this.  Set a resolution if you want.  Or change today.  Whatever works for you to set and achieve your goals!  Any time is a fantastic time to make positive changes in your life.  Whether that includes fitness or not, strive to be even more awesome in 2015!  Find yourself a support system that will help you meet your goals.  You are worth the time and energy and I hope you can find a way to prioritize your goal this year!  

One last comment: Fellow gym-goers, I know January can be frustrating.  The gym is flooded with newbies.  The squat rack is always taken (usually by somebody curling).  Your trainer is booked out for weeks and there's even a wait for cardio machines.  

Welcome, resolution gym-goers!  I hope you stick around so I'm not the new kid any more :)

Two things to keep in mind: 

1) As stated above, 54% of the resolution gym-goers will be gone in 6 months (which may make you happy but actually is pretty depressing when you think about it).  So hang in there, you'll have the gym to yourself all too soon.

2) You were new once, too.  Be patient and don't be a butthead.  Hope they stick with it so in a few months, they'll know what they're doing and can spot you.

Done and done.

This post was going to be about compulsive weighing but then I got pissed at a stock photo and the theme changed

Does anybody else feel chained to their scale?  Or weigh yourself frequently?  Like...daily?  Or even multiple times a day?  Just to see how things change throughout the day?  Or find out how much your clothes weigh?  Or how much that burrito sitting in your stomach weighs?

I can't decide if it's out of sheer, morbid curiosity, or if I am legitimately addicted to my scale.


**But now, a rant.**

I had a lengthy blog post planned regarding frequent weighing, and how I'm ridiculous and step on my scale out of habit like 5 times a day, because I'm weird and I love to weigh myself.

Instead, I bring you this:

I hate this graphic SO MUCH.

I found this image while searching for suitable stock photos or memes to use for this blog entry.

For some reason, it made me irrationally angry.

Does the number on the scale immediately make you feel the need to exercise?  If it does, exercise is your punishment for being "fat," and that is seriously messed up.  First of all, being "fat" is NOT SOMETHING THAT DESERVES PUNISHMENT.  It is a state of being.  Lots of people on this wonderful earth are fat, and they do not deserve punishment simply for being fat, or eating bad food, or gaining a pound.  

STOP USING EXERCISE AS A PUNISHMENT FOR "BAD" BEHAVIOR!  Exercise, while not always fun, shouldn't be used that way.  How do you expect to enjoy an activity when you feel like you have to do it because you were "bad?"  Exercise is an amazing privilege.  Even when I am silently cursing my trainer for making me do those Roman chair ab thingies that make my shoulders scream and I look like a moron, at least a teeny, tiny part of me is glad I can use my limbs (however feebly) to do them (like 4 of them at a time, on a good day...but still).  Every time I am forced to run, I hate it so fucking much.  My shins hurt, my hip hurts, I get out of breath.  It's awful.  But guess what, I can move one leg in front of the other.  Tons of people probably wish they could run, and can't.  So I'm going to suffer through it and then appreciate that I did it.  Even though it's the worst thing ever.

Gah.  I hate that frickin image so much I could spit.

This is more like it.  Enjoy your body and USE IT!

This, I love.  Don't take it for granted, indeed.

My apologies if this entry makes no sense...I was absolutely hell-bent on writing about frequent weighing and why I think it's the devil but I love it so much...but that image just struck a chord with me and I couldn't stop myself.