Tuesday, February 19, 2013

I didn't bother with pictures today

But I finally went back to the gym after a week and a half lapse.

I weighed myself today, too. On the first day I went to the gym in Peters Hall, it said I weighed 250. Now, the  little weight on top is gone so I can't tell you exactly how much I am down, but when I put the big weight up to 250, the arrow part hit the... bottom? Top? whichever side that indicates that I weight less than the weighted thing on top is indicating.

I know I've been losing a little, at least. Pants that were uncomfortably tight before are now just tight. I don't exactly push myself when working out (except when the wii fit fucked me over the other week) but I've been paying closer attention to what, when, and how much I eat. I've always been a second or more helpings person. This change did not come overnight, though.

When I first started working out, I figured I could still eat the same way because I was moving around a lot more. But over time (5 weeks) I have wanted to eat less in order to become satisfied and I definitely don't snack as much. I'm pretty sure I need to keep doing both (work out and eat decently) in order to get to my goal.

Here's the deal. I didn't start working out because of a resolution. I don't like resolutions, especially those of the new year's persuasion. I also don't work out because I want to be seen differently, I want to be sexier, I want to eat whatever I want, I have the desire (heh no) to, or anything like that. 

I work out because I want to fit into my old clothes. I don't want to buy a new wardrobe every so often to adjust with my expanding waistline. I also don't care if I'm a statistic-- 35% of Americans over 20 are obese. I'm a human; I'm a statistic no matter what I do. Am I self-conscious? Hell yes. Do I care? Yeah. Again, I'm human. But I'm not interested in being a fitness fanatic. 

My goal is to get back into a size 10 (female, American). I have no qualms telling the world that I am obese according to The Powers That Be, that I am on a good day an American size 18, that I get winded just shaving my legs, and that I have been over 250 lbs (I stopped looking at that point).

I wonder if my mother will read this. If so, I hope she forgives me for what I'm about to reveal.

When I was young, 6-7 or so, my mother told me how much she weighed. I can't remember if I caught her crying or she asked me to come into the bathroom, but I remember she was standing on the scale and made me swear I would never tell anyone what that shameful number was. I'm still not going to tell anyone, but let me be clear that I have surpassed that terrible number that devastated my mum back in the early 1990's.

You cannot fault my mother. She is and was a product of her generation. Also, she had 3 kids in 4 years, so I suppose that can take a toll on a woman's body. At any rate, within the past few years, I have been to the doctor and they weighed me with their (admittedly broken) machine that told me I was at or above that dreaded number. The first time I saw it, I was suddenly that little girl standing in my parents' bathroom staring at a number and thinking it was the worst fate available for a girl. it's still in the back of my mind, but I try not to think about it too much.

On one hand, I can see how someone could make the case for my mindset being "it's only a number." But it isn't only a number. It's actually nothing to me. A size 10 is an abstract goal because that's the size I was when I remember being the most satisfied with how I felt in my own body. It's also nothing to my in the way that I don't give a damn who knows how much I weigh, what my BMI is, or about any illness I may suffer from. I don't. I don't care. I don't mind. However you want to look at it.

Will being a size 10 make me happy? Fuck I don't know. I just thought it was a nice goal to set for myself. Will I award myself an ice cream sundae whenever I meet it? PROBABLY.

Anyway, I didn't bother taking pictures at the gym today. I was halfway through a random workout (that's how I've figured out the bikes work the best, if you let it choose the resistance and stuff for you) and accidentally hit the "reset" button instead of checking how much time in that particular interval I had left. I actually yelled out (GAH!) and startled some people around me. Whoops. I started over, but of course I had reset it and the random is truly random-- it resets to another random course when a workout is completed or aborted. At any rate, I biked 6-7 miles in 20 minutes. I figure that's okay. I sweated a little. Not a lot.

Two weeks ago, the news said that most people give up on their fitness-related new years resolutions on or by Feb. 7. I felt a little bad about that, because that was the week I fucked up my calves running in place because of that fucking wii fit. For the record, the pain lasted all damn week even after I took a hot bath with epsom salts and shit to ease the muscle tension.

I heard that teachers get a workout because they tend to stand most of the day. One of my classrooms (in which I teach two back to back 50 minute classes) is regularly over 90 degrees (no windows, I can't leave the door open, and maintenance doesn't believe I'm an instructor so they won't do anything about it) and I stand for 2 hours straight. Yesterday was one of those days. I was sweating like hell. It was so gross. I'm not a fan of sweating while I'm teaching.

So I burn calories (admittedly, it is only a few) just doing my job. If you think about it, I am holding up a 250+ lb body on my little feet. My calves are fucking massive. I can't wear boots because none will fit over my calves. Forget about tucking my pants into said boots. It takes a lot of muscle to hold me up.

I've feared that once I get my weight down a little that something bad would happen to my calves-- they would lose muscle mass, become atrophied, they would sag and get fatty... Because they aren't working as hard as they did before. However, something occurred to me today: My OCD.

I promise I'm going somewhere with this.

My OCD tic has always been that things needed to be even. Not in the numerical sense, but like pencils and books needed to be lined up right on the desk, curtains should hang exactly the same way on both sides of a window, and for me personally, if I did something (like pop a knuckle or bend a fingernail [just... don't ask]) on one hand, I had to do it on the other one to be even. At some point, I started to feel the need to flex every muscle I was able to consciously flex on my own at the same time, correspondingly on each side. I still do it. Now though it's mostly my legs. Maybe this has no scientific value, but I think another reason my legs are so fucking big is because I am constantly flexing the muscles in them. It's not necessarily an RLS thing, it's just how my brain works. I needed to tighten the muscles in my legs, and it had to be even so I had to do it on both legs.

That's my story for the day.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Free as my hair

Today I cut my hair. Finally. It was like, overnight, My hair became unmanageable. When I went to brush it out, it was like I wanted to stop brushing at a certain point, where I was used to stopping, but there was like 3 more inches of hair left to brush. It sucked.

It was uncomfortably long. Even more than that, I had people telling me not to cut my hair. That they liked me better with long hair. Ugh.  I don't like me with long hair. The picture above was taken about 3 weeks ago. Not like it's grown all that much since then.

So I cut those 3 inches off today. I've been pretty sick of it for a while now. 

I'm also sick of people's opinions. Something as seemingly inane as my hair can drive me up the wall. I *almost* went and got a pixie cut but I stopped myself. Apparently some people's happiness depend on my hair length. Also, I don't think a pixie cut would suit me in this current form. read: I don't want to be the fat chick with short hair.

Too much of what everyone else thinks keeps me from doing things. they might not be earth-changing things, they may not be the most important things, but it's the little things that make up the bigger things.

I took control of my hair. It may not seem like a huge things to everyone else, but it was a big thing for me. I haven't cut it since June 2011. No trim, not cut, no shaping, nothing. It's nice to control something.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Losing Friends and Acquaintances.

FIRST. This is not a "woe is me, feel bad for me, I have no friends" post.
SECOND. You can look back to this post to see my explanation of how friendship kind of works in my head.

Moving on.

I went on kind of an unfriending spree this week on Facebook. I won't go over who I deleted, but I will say that I'm wrestling with it.

Myself, I get too emotional about this shit. Just last night, I saw that someone I knew (in person and on the internet; they live in a different state and we met on a website; we've met in person twice) had unfriended me. I no idea how long ago it was, what I did wrong, or if they even had a reason. Maybe they were just culling the herd.

But the thing is, is on a different website, this person is super-friendly to me. I sent a message and asked if they knew who I was, since my real name is not shown there. I guess they know who I am, but I haven't gotten an explanation as to why they have "unfriended" me on other websites. Not that they owe me an explanation. It's my insecurity, not theirs.

I will/would gladly tell those whom I have unfriended what their sin against me was. If they're interested.

But this is starting to make me re-think the whole "internet friends are real friends" idea. I have people out there that I think I will be in touch with for a long time. But then, the person above was one of those people. And something unknown happened.

I'm not beating myself up over this, but I have a problem. I really do invest myself in too many people. I know that's like someone whining that they are too beautiful or they have too much time on their hands. But I do say too much to too many and expect too much in return.

It's hard to convey exact meaning on the internet. We try to explain ourselves as best as we can, when we care, but it seems that the shit always ends up hitting the fan at some point. Some grievance will be committed, someone will completely (and vociferously) disagree with you, and things will fall apart.

Is it even worth having friendships?

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Working on it

This week hasn't been so great as far as working out has gone. On Monday, I tried to work out with the Wii Fit Active game and it kicked my ass. I am still paying for it-- since then, my thighs and calves have burned like hell every time I've moved. It's really frustrating to be doing kind of well, and then this thing that is supposed to help you just makes you worse. Every movement I make now is labored and painful. I just not got out of an hour-long epsom salt soak/bath. Hopefully that will make a difference tomorrow.

I read (on the internet) that muscles are built while at rest. That is how it was phrased. I of course can't find the link now. But at any rate, muscles repair themselves while at rest. I must've torn the shit out of my muscles for them to be hurting this bad for this long. The worst part is waking up. I can generally get through the night without encountering any pain issues. But I also sleep with my legs bent, so my muscles kind of "set" that way. When I get up and stretch, it's utter agony. (If that's not how it works, then just hush--that's how it works in my brain.) And I have to continue my whole day--on my feet-- in this pain. I wish it would just go away.

As mentioned before, I haven't been able to work out since then. I've tried doing really basic stretches and light yoga to try and work out the pain in my legs, but it's not helped. But I know I can't give up. This is just a minor setback, and I can re-start as soon as my legs feel better. This is no reason to quit.

One thing I have noticed that is making a big difference is my relationship with food. Yesterday, I didn't even bother to pack my gym bag and just came straight home after class. Without thinking about it, I fell into the same old routine-- the tv is on, a commercial comes up, so I go into the kitchen for something to eat. I was halfway through a cheese sandwich before I realised what I had done. I was startled. I haven't done this in what seems like a very long time!

I've been really good about not over-eating and portion control and even to some extent paying attention to my caloric intake. For another example, Andy and I went to O'Charley's on Sunday. I always order a salad with my meal, eat pretty much all of my meal, and split a mini-desert with Andy. This time, I got just an entree, and only ate half. Yes, I had *some* bread, but no more than usual.

There is a final example that happened tonight that got me thinking about this. When I got off the bus tonight, I went into the store and got M&Ms and my prescription. I'm not really the type that goes gaga for chocolate or wine or anything like that. The reason I am overweight is because I don't like moving around and I love cheese. Among other things. But, I felt like I could use chocolate in the house in the future, so I grabbed a bag. I did actually go into the store with the two items I bought in mind.

I went upstairs with my bag of chocolates, intending to have a nice long soak in the tub and some chocolate and read, but something else happened. I opened the bag, one piece fell into my hand, and I ate it. That was all. I had that one piece. A month ago, the whole bag would have been gone in less than half an hour. Then I'd be left feeling sad, for a variety of reasons. But I only had one. Once I noticed this, at the end of my soak, I had a few more (because I was thinking about them) and put them on the dining room table. Where (for lack of a better space) they belong. Not on my bedside table, not in my bed (don't judge me!) and certainly not in my tummy.

I'm not saying I'm a new woman. I'm not. I'm still cranky as hell, irritating, and lazy. But I'm working on it. I'm attempting to work out and get more active, I'm more conscious of what I eat, I have been drinking green tea almost every day, and I'm more aware of the things around me.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Happy Pancake day!

I think that's the proper greeting. It's probably acceptable in some circles to wish each other Happy Pancake Day.

Andy had a bad day at work and I figured he didn't want to go anywhere. In fact, at the suggestion that we go out to IHOP for free pancakes, he shrugged and kind of mumbled "nah." I was sad. FREE PANCAKES, DUDE.

So, as I am wont to do, I whined about it on Facebook. A former student said that she'd like to go, along with her roommate (another former student). Fun!  

I went to leave and either Andy had changed his mind or, according to him, he has never disinterested in going. Meh. Misunderstandings. So, I went to pick up the girls at their dorm and off we went! We ordered food and Student 1 was wondering how we were supposed to order the free pancakes. She suggested that we order our food then just mumble: "andfreepancakes" afterward. It was really funny to us, because we ordered like that. "Cheese eggs, bacon, andfreepancakes." "Two biscuits with bacon and cheese, andfreepancakes." It was really really funny to us. The server was a good sport. Andy high-fived him and kept referring to him as his name. I said that our server probably thought Andy was flirting with him.

Anyway, none of that is particularly remarkable. 

My students EAT SO WEIRD.

First, student 1, a self described sugar lover ("I LOVE SUGAR!"- Student 1) put little bits of flavoured syrup on her hash browns. First strawberry, then blueberry after Andy suggested it. According to her, she puts either jelly or syrup on everything. Okay.

Then I look over at Student 2, who has made a sampler platter of sorts out of the three flavours of syrup. I guess she wanted to try them all.
Student 1 was not wearing a fez. I obviously put it there to protect her ID

THEN I look over to see Student 1 PICKING UP AND TEARING APART her pancakes. WTF. Apparently this is a thing RU students do now. 


Also, Andy left a $10 tip for a $7 bill. I'm a good tipper, but I admit to being a little irritated.

I had a fun night. I hope it cheered Andy up a little.

Monday, February 4, 2013


The bus rides today were crazy.

First, the bus driver left VERY early (they are supposed to stay at the stop I get on/off at until the hour turn) and I told Andy, who told the dispatcher who radioed the bus driver and told her she had to turn around and go back. She flipped her shit and just yelled and bitched about it, then drove like a maniac the rest of the way. I was very glad to get off the bus.

While I was waiting for the bus to depart this evening, the numpties were out in full force.

There is a certain way that we expect others to act in public. I get that everyone is their own person, and fuck society, and blah blah blah. But... come on. Have a little respect for the people around you.

Two older women (women in their 40's) (by older I mean older than me) were play fighting all over the bus. They kept knocking into me (and eventually stopped apologising, even though I never said "It's okay." I never say "It's okay" because it's not) and running all over the bus and kicking each other and throwing things. It was very annoying. Sure, have fun, I don't know their situation or anything, but really... Again, have some respect for your fellow bus riders.

This is not a new thing. Every evening, they do this shit. It's so tiring. And when they aren't trying to make merry with each other, they are interrogating the other passengers. I hope they recognize me from previous interrogations and remember that I'm not a talker.

There was that, and screaming children, which you can't really do much about.

I just wish people would leave me alone. I generally don't want to talk to anyone. Really ever. I've said it before, but having headphones in usually means that that person is otherwise occupied. I'm not doing anything important-- just listening to music-- but I like my space. I like my quiet time. 

Friday, February 1, 2013

Annoying people and taxes

Today we got our taxes done. We have always had them done, especially since I have a mountain of student loan debt and we bought our house. So far, I'm glad that no obnoxious dickwad on facebook has given us shit about having them done professionally. Everyone has a fucking opinion on how EVERYTHING should be run. If I don't drink the right kind of beer, someone has something shitty to say about it. If I post too often, someone has something to say. If I merely comment that we changed our dog food, I get endless (unsolicited) advice on everything from what to feed a dog to the evils of those who don't spay and neuter.

Unless I ask for it, I never want your opinion. I imagine that everyone else has the same policy.

Today, we ran into someone we used to work with. I can't stand the guy. Call him Bob. I don't know anyone named Bob. But we unfortunately know this guy. He came in after us to the taxes place, with his (I was surprised*) wife. Bob worked with us both at Walmart. Then I worked with him at another job, but thankfully I only saw him a handful of times. He's a total douche. He's that terrible combination of super nerd, know-it-all, and mega religious. It's... annoying.

He was (is?) friends with my ex before Andy. They went to the same (Pentecostal) church together, and tried to talk my ex into dumping me immediately because I am Jewish. Bob said, and I quote, that I am "worse than someone that is 'lost' because [I] don't believe in Jesus." he wrote me off immediately because I wasn't the same religion as him. Of course that irritated me. And, remember, we all worked together (Me, Andy, Bob, and ex before Andy). At Walmart.

Over time, he just managed to piss me off over and over. He is unusually nosy and inserts himself into every conversation he walks past. Tonight was kind of no different. I haven't seen him in 2 years; Andy for probably closer to 4. First, Bob wanted to talk to us. He introduced us to his wife, which I guess was nice but he HAS to know I don't like him and I definitely don't care. Then he asked us a few times how we were and what we were up to (HOW DARE HE). Then "Call Me Maybe" came on the radio in the tax place and even though we hadn't spoken to him in a few minutes, I remarked to Andy that I had just gotten that fucking song out of my head. Bob inserts himself into the exchange and says: "It can't get stuck in my head, because I've never heard it before."

He's that type of guy.

So more than death and taxes are guaranteed in this life, especially if you have ever had co workers and you participate in social networking.

*I really thought he was gay, but that he would never come out because he is so crazy religious. Aside from that, assuming he is straight, I can't imagine what kind of woman could put up with his shit. She didn't look happy to be there, but doing taxes isn't exactly the most exhilarating thing ever.