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.

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.

Daily Life

Today, when I woke up, I couldn't believe that it was 6:20 am. It was still pitch black dark outside (I know it's winter) and Top Gear was still playing on Netflix. I must have advanced it in my sleep. I remember continuing once. Also, after going to bed at 9, Amy decided it would be awesome to start crying and freaking out at 11. I was just barely asleep. Gah.

I went to bed irritated about something, but it kept escaping me as to why. Finally, I remembered: one of my student loans had sent back my payment. Again. I've been struggling with figuring out why this company keeps sending back my payments, and why they keep saying I am behind, despite my paying more than the amount due before the due date.

It turns out, my account number on my online bill pay was off by one number. My bad. I thought I had checked it, but I must've missed the error when I did. This time I caught it.

I had called the company, ready to be angry and argumentative with them. But for once, I kept my temper and the conversation turned out fine! I was (and still am) very surprised at myself. Usually, I get myself ready for a fight and stay in that mindset for a long time. But this time, I knew that something wasn't quite right, and despite my best efforts, the problem could be me. It was.

So, the number I was sending the money to doesn't correspond with another account, thankfully. The bank has been sending back my payments 2 months late after trying to send it to the loan company. On one hand, it's good, because my money is coming back to me, and the loan company is willing to waive the late fees if I fax them the statements saying that the bank returned the payments. On the other hand, it's still a little bit of a clusterfuck and there is some residual annoyance over the situation.

In other news, I went to the gym today. I found the bike that worked. Turns out something weird happens with the type of bike I like to use... If you choose a preset course that requires bpm, you're screwed. None of the machines have bpm sensors that work. I figured that much out today. I had to keep resetting the bike for a few reasons. One reason was that I was trying to see what worked and what didn't on that particular bike. The resistance kind of worked, but I could only turn it up, not down. Also, almost all of the preset courses require bpm monitoring, except the cross-country course (which  goes from resistance level 1 to 4 to 7 in 5 minutes... ouch) and the resistance course. I didn't try the second one though. It started on level 6. No.

The second reason I had to keep restarting was because my left thigh was hurting like a motherfucker. I guess because my legs hurt so bad after being on my feet all evening (from 2-6:15) (okay in hindsight that doesn't seem like long... BUT I'm a weakling and I'm not used to it), the pain never really went away there. I actually had a hard time falling asleep (and staying asleep) because my legs and feet were hurting so badly. It was almost as bad as last semester, when on the first day, I was on my feet from 2-7:45 after 3 months of exerting little or no energy on anything. That week, I was in so much pain I felt like vomiting at the end of the day.

I'm proud of myself, though. I managed to bike 3 miles on resistance level 6 for like 20 miles. No pictures this time, because of the constant restarting. I really need to start stretching better. Wellllll I need to start being in shape but I have to start somewhere.

It's been really hard for me to keep myself busy. I know I need to get used to getting up so early, so I set my alarm for the same time every day, despite not needing to be on campus until 1 on MWF. So I don't have anything to do until then on those days. And when I get home on TR, I also don't have anything to do.

Everything needs to change in my routine, apparently. I know there are things around the house that should get done, and I also could be using that time to work out or do yoga or something. But I am so used to doing nothing. Napping. Reading. Watching Netflix. Damn I am a lazy ass.

I think I will start to unfuck my habitat. Maybe knit more. Definitely clean more. I even loaded the dishwasher and *gasp* started it today! That's 2 loads in like 3 days. That's amazing for me. What's even more amazing (and telling of how lazy I am) is that we had that many dirty dishes.