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?

Setbacks and Sickness

So...winter can suck it.  Big time.  I've been deaf in my right ear because of a eustacean tube dysfunction for over a month.  It's not awful, but it's annoying, unpleasant, and uncomfortable.  Multiple courses of steroids haven't fixed it, so I'll be half deaf until they figure out the mystery of my right ear.  It's a pain in my ass, but I'm dealing.

However, the past two weeks have been awful.  I got a sinus infection about two weeks ago, which migrated down to my chest and settled into a lovely case of bronchitis.  I've been on Augmentin (finally finished it today, woohoo!) and another steroid burst (four days left, woohoo!) and I still feel like poo.

Even though my voice is back and I'm back at work after missing a few days (thank GOD, I was getting so stinkin' bored), it's hard not to be able to do the things I want to do.

I've only been able to work out twice in the past two weeks, and I had to half-ass it both times.  I tried to run last week and coughed so hard I peed my pants.  I PEED MY MOTHERFUCKING PANTS.  I thought stress incontinence was a hell saved for women who've given birth and/or the elderly.  I was wrong.  Bronchitis is a bitch.


Anyway, I took 5 days off and went back to the gym for a light workout last weekend.  Again, I coughed until I almost fell over.  Awesome.
Today, I went back to workout again, and once again, took it super easy.  I biked, I did abs, I biked some more.  It was awful, because it hardly felt like I did anything.  But I didn't cough nearly as much as last time.  Score!

Since I got sick, I've felt sluggish and lazy and gross and icky in general.  But it's impossible for me to lay on the couch all day and cough.  As soon as I was considered non-contagious, I wanted to hit the gym again.  So I started researching online about exercising with bronchitis.  I'm a nurse, I already knew the answer, and I've given this advice before, but I didn't want to believe it.

In case you were curious, here's what I found.

DON'T DO IT.

Above the neck illness (mild headache, stuffy nose) = go ahead and work out if you feel up to it.

Below the neck illness (lung congestion, cough, vomiting) = stay the hell home and recuperate.

I know, I know, I KNOW...Angie, why you no listen to your own advice??

Pictured above: me

But as many of you know, my biggest fear is complacency.  I've had this mindset that taking a break is not an option...even for illness.  Also, I worry that after missing so many workouts, I've backslid horribly and my progress is going down the crapper with each day spent away from working out.  I worry that when I'm finally able to start hitting it hard again, it'll be like starting all over again - fucking miserable and impossible and the worst thing EVER.  Sad panda face.

PIctured above: me

Well, I've had to change my mindset.  Obviously, because pushing myself too hard through the tail end of this illness could also drag it out for weeks or months - and that's the last thing I want.

I've gotten some sweet and much needed texts, facebook messages, and emails from friends and health professionals that have all told me pretty much the same thing...for the love of God and all that is holy, take it easy on yourself!

I was feeling really badly about not working out and cancelling a bunch of training appointments, but after talking with my trainer today, he also reminded me to listen to myself and ease my way back into it.  And - it's fine, shit happens, tomorrow's a new day and the gym will be waiting when I'm ready.



The moral of the story?

Sometimes your body needs a break.
I am not invincible.
I need to listen to the wisdom of others and take it easy (but I will not be skipping the gym any more...just doing easy workouts for awhile to keep myself moving).
Shit happens, tomorrow is a new day, and the gym will be waiting when I'm ready.

I just wish my lungs would catch up with the rest of me!

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.

Transparency

If you haven't, you may want to read the previous entry for some background information. Follow the link below (if it works, otherwise copy and paste it...I'm too lazy to set up the link right now).

 http://iamnotgoodatnamingblogs.blogspot.com/2015/02/barbara-walters.html



Discovery: It's relatively easy for me to be open and honest with you, since most of you are my friends/family/fellow gym-goers/co-workers/neighbors, and through the partial anonymity of the internet, than it is to be transparent in person.

Or, say, on television.

As most of you know, I was asked to film a testimonial for my nutritionist's office.  I was really flattered and honored to be asked.  I thought, if I could go on live television to talk about myself and this process three months and 20lb ago, I can certainly film a testimonial now.

Turns out, I may not know myself quite as well as I thought.

In the previous entry, I talked about the interview experience.  It was painfully awkward but I made it through.  The interviewer and cameraman tried their damndest to put me at ease, and were so welcoming and nice.  I just didn't feel comfortable.  Also, as you may recall, I cried, which is one of my least favorite things to do in front of people, especially strangers.

I waited anxiously to see what the finished product of the commercial would look like.  Thinking about it made me a little (a lot) antsy, so it's a dang good thing I had a busy week (as always).

Thursday night, they sent me a copy.  Everyone involved said they loved it.

It would be fair to say that I was not a fan.

I watched it while sitting on a spinning bike at the gym.  Then I watched it again.  The first time, I sat, mouth agape, as I watched myself.  The second time, I laughed out loud...and not in a good way.

All I could think was "I look awful and I sound awful."

Then I felt awful because I was the only one who had seen it at that point who didn't like it.  I reminded myself that everyone's their own harshest critic.  So I watched it again.

Then I had to get the hell out of the gym to process this.

Which I did as soon as I got home.

Panic set in.

The rapid-fire thoughts going through my head included...
People are going to see this.
I've put my story out there to be played by television stations at will.
People are going to judge me.
Oh my God what was I thinking?
Is that really what my voice sounds like?  How does anybody tolerate listening to me?
Oh my GOD what was I thinking?
Is that really what I look like?  Good Lord.
OH MY GOD what was I THINKING?

And the resounding theme:

I AM NOT READY FOR THIS.

I texted my best friend, and emailed her the video link.  I can always count on her to be honest and give it to me straight.  She and her boyfriend loved it.

I thought: Well, maybe it's not as bad as I think.  I filmed it, maybe I should just live with the consequences of my choice to agree to do this and put myself out there.

And then I started panicking again.

I texted my journey guru, Jen, who talked me down off the ledge.

I realized (through Jen's amazing words) that it's okay to say no.  It's okay not to be ready to share everything with everyone.  It's okay to realize that this made me feel powerless and was really triggering for me.  It's okay to say yes and then change your mind.  And it's okay to ask for what you need to feel safe.

And for me, at this point, what I needed to feel safe was to ask my nutritionist not to use the filmed commercial, at least until I'm ready.  A point which I am not confident will ever occur (though it may).  A request which she happily honored.

This entire chain of events was probably the most surprising thing that's happened to me...well, ever.  I thought I knew myself pretty well but I still have the capability to shock myself.

Surprise!

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.

Therapy

Pushing yourself physically can be a surprisingly emotional experience.  I say this from experience, because I cry at the gym with frightening regularity.  

Yes, it's embarrassing.  

Yes, it makes me feel awkward.  

Yes, I really really really 

hate crying in front of people.  

But sometimes I just can't hold it in.  When the emotions are there, bubbling right under the surface, I have to let them out...whether its joy, despair, anger, frustration, pride, etc.  I feel like if I keep it in I will seriously explode.

*** Side note: dear God, someone give my trainer a raise for all of my emotional issues that he has to deal with.  Seriously...whatever he makes is not enough.***

Imagine you've spent your life encased in a distancing, isolating, and in that way "safe" suit of armor.  Now, imagine your armor is gone.  Or in my case, partially gone and receeding more and more each day.

Part of you is glad to be rid of it!  It restricted your movements.  It prevented you from doing things.  It isolated you and made you uncomfortable.

But it was also safe in there.

And it's terrifying to not have it any more.

It can make you feel vulnerable to attack and exposed to everyone and small and meek and uncomfortable.

IF you let it.

And it's really, really hard not to let it make you feel that way, at least at first.

This is part of what I'm going through right now.  When you spend your entire adult life and most of your childhood being of above-average size, you don't know how to function differently.  You are used to negative comments or no comments being made about your body and appearance.  So, as nice as it is to hear compliments about your body, it may make you start to feel all of the above mentioned, unpleasant things (especially coming from people you don't know all that well). 

Even though you weren't strong before you started this process (at least, not as strong as you are now), you somehow feel weaker without your armor (as happy as you are to be shedding it).

Like I said, it's really hard not to get sucked into this mental trap of feeling weak or like a victim.

You know what helps?  What will make you feel stronger and empowered and fierce and like a bad-ass and like you could cut any mofo who tried to hurt you now that you don't have your armor?

Lifting heavy things.

Using muscles that you previously neglected.  

Sweating your face off.

Jumping onto tall things because you couldn't before.

Slamming things on the ground.

Throwing heavy things into the air.

Punching stuff (with boxing gloves on, of course, and only when invited to do so...don't just randomly start punching stuff, please).

Sometimes, doing this stuff is the absolute best medicine.

Yesterday morning, I went into the gym in a foul mood.  After making an ass of myself, crying all over my trainer for like the dozenth time, and having a short but revealing conversation, it was time to work out.

I felt like absolute crap.  And I really, really didn't want to be there.

30 minutes later, I felt amazing.  I was tired, red, sweaty, and sore.  But my mind was clear and my spirit was lifted and I was ready to seize the rest of my day.

I'm not saying that working out can or will fix all of your problems.  Thats overly simplistic and just not a realistic expectation.  

What I am saying is that, for me, moving my body helps me work through tricky situations, get over things that happened to me earlier in the day, clears my mind, makes my heart happy, and improves my mood immensely. 

You should give it a whirl.