beautiful and dirty, dirty rich.

I have a nagging suspicion that someone I know is reading this, in which case... STOP IT. Kthnx.

I had two slices of bread with my sandwich today and I feel bloated. I'm also seriously concerned about the poo I'll have to take later.

I re-bandaged my finger and it's not as bad as I thought! I let it air dry for a few hours before I attacked it with peroxide, I even was able to cut off some of the loose skin. Progress.

Subconsciously over the last few months I've been making strategic choices with my foods. Things like... beans OR meat, cheese OR dressing, cheese OR avocado, etc. Basically, the only things I'm allowed to "double up" on in any one meal are fruits and vegetables. It's becoming more and more of a problem with my growing love/need for avocados.

Because of my upbringing, I have really positive associations with avocados. I always considered them to be guilt-free health foods because they're fruit with the healthy kinds of fats. Imagine my surprise when I found that the average avocado has a whopping 500 calories. FIVE HUNDRED.

True story: I have eaten multiple avocados in a single sitting. BAD NEWS BEARS.

Everything about this news breaks my heart because avocados used to be immune thanks to their fruit classification, but now they're hanging in the fats/protein department because I couldn't possibly justify having cheese and/or meat on the same plate.

Avocado needs to be on everything. EVERYTHING. Including boyfriend. Mmm... imagine getting to lick that off a man's body.

my universe will never be the same.

lazy list wednesday. sue me, okay?

• I cut the tip of my finger on a mandolin slicer 2 days ago. I was cutting up cucumbers for a salad and next thing I know there's blood everywhere. It turns out it was just a superficial cut, but oh holy Jesus there was a lot of blood. Conclusion: salads are the devil.
• I was being dumb when we went grocery shopping over the weekend and I forgot two of my most essential food items, yogurt and balsamic vinaigrette salad dressing. Instead of going back to the grocery store, we made a beeline for Walmart to pick up some household items and I stocked up there. There was a bigger selection than what my regular grocery store has, so I swapped out the balsamic for a Greek vinaigrette and I picked up a single serving container of honey flavored Oikos Greek yogurt (umm Greek much? jeez). The dressing: huge disappointment. The yogurt: CHANGED MY LIFE. Seriously, I had dreams about how creamy and delicious it was.
• I ordered a shit ton of VS panties the other day, because most of the panties I own now don't fit. OMG WHO AM I? MY PANTIES DON'T FIT. That fact would normally make me really happy, minus the fact that I have to tug at my ass while running to keep my drawers from falling to my knees.
• My financial frivolity didn't stop there! I ordered a pair of VFF Bikila LS yesterday, too. They were on crazy-sale, like 52% off (CRAZY, I KNOW) and for once I got a pair that has normal colors (seriously, I love my Sprints, but olive and baby blue and lime green, really?).
• My friend has been nagging me to go swimming with her for weeks now, and yesterday she finally backed me into a corner I couldn't talk my way out of. But I told her she would have to wait until after my run. Instead of running around like normal and then driving to the pool, I dropped my car off at home and RAN to the pool. I RAN TO THE POOL. It was 2.54 miles of sunny torture.
• I plan on reading Born to Run by Christopher McDougall this weekend, and in preparation I've been doing some wiki-reading on the subject of the Tarahumara people of Mexico. I have the extreme pleasure of being able to claim ancestry of this tribe (true story, my mom's maternal grandmother was a Tarahumara) which gives me hope for my future in distance running. I still think Marathons are retarded, in fact everything over ten miles is just plain dumb, but I GOT THIS IN MY BLOOD.
• The grocery store sucked this week and the fresh loose spinach I have at home is going bad so I decided to skip the salad today. For lunch: turkey on wheat. I don't know how it happened, but I pretty much cut out all bread and I don't miss it. That's not counting tortillas, because I'm Mexican and I would die without tortillas. But seriously, as I was packing my lunch, I pulled out a piece of bread and thought to myself, "That's too much bread." Kinda makes me sick to my stomach.
• Last night boyfriend was talking to his mom and she was asking about me. He told her that I've been running a lot and that I've lost 45 pounds. I'm actually at 47 pounds now which brought up two points: firstly, ohmygod I am one really good dieting week away from 50 pounds; and secondly, it sounds SO much more impressive when someone else says it.
• FIFTY POUNDS. !!!!! I have no words.

love will find a way.

In an insane turn of events, I ran to the closest Redbox.

I RAN TO REDBOX.

Did you catch that? No? I RAN TO REDBOX.

So the Redbox by my apartment is half a mile away. I know this because my first attempt at weight loss (almost exactly one year ago) included walking to and from that Redbox every day. We had picked up a pair of movies and watched them last night, but both me and boyfriend forgot to return them today. By a lovely turn of events, I got out of class an hour early and I got to see boyfriend off before he went to the gym. We had a quick chat about the movies after which I volunteered to drop them off before the 9pm deadline. I don't exactly know what I had in mind, but I knew I was going to work this to my advantage.

After scarfing down a horrible delicious dinner (quesadilla on wheat), I threw on my warmest running clothes and walked out the door with the two DVDs in hand. I ran all the way to Redbox and back, plus a run around the block, for a total of 1.86mi.




A few things to note:

• In April 2011, I could barely walk half a mile without huffing and puffing, and less than one year later I ran four times that LIKE A PRO.
  
• When I'm driving and I see runners on the sides of the road, I like to refer to them as "rock stars" in my head because... well, they're fking rock stars! Changing my attitudes about other runners has helped change my attitude towards myself, and I feel the difference.
  
• Running in the cold is easily the most genius idea ever. It's hovering around 47 degrees outside, which is (in my opinion) optimum running weather.
  
• Thank Jesus I have a shopping problem. Like, seriously. The more I run, the more I realize how important the little things are to keeping me on track. Like... performance fleece? GENIUS. Wrist sweatbands have changed my running experience forever. And those water bottles everyone likes to make fun of me for... CAN'T RUN WITHOUT 'EM.
  
• There's no better feeling that finishing a run knowing that you did it. There's no such thing as failing or quitting if you see it start to finish. Even if you walk. Even if you have to take a break. Even if you feel like it wasn't your best. The point is, you did it and no one can take that away from you.

A second trip to the scale this afternoon gave a reading of 246.0. I don't want to get too excited, so for now I'm maintaining a healthy level of skepticism.

i get a feeling that i never never never had before.

I struggle with the idea that I've lost close to 50 pounds. Probably because I struggled with the idea of having gained 50+ pounds. I have to be the most oblivious person on earth, because it all feels like more of the same to me.

Despite my horrible, horrible eating this weekend, the scale read 247.5 this morning. Not entirely sure how that happened.

This is the last week of March, which means my 5 pounds/5k challenge is coming to an end. Believe me, I will have both accomplished before Friday morning.




For giggles I went through my under-bed storage containers trolling for jeans. My current ones (size 18) are hanging in all the wrong places. I like the idea that my jeans fit baggy, but it's a mess visually. I didn't think I would be able to move into the next size down, though, so I've been patiently sticking it out with the sizes I have now until a happy shopping day came along. Not today. My curiosity got the best of me and I just had to, HAD TO, try on a pair of old 16's I kept in storage.

They fit. They fit NICELY. No muffin top. I'm afraid to wear them in public in case it's an optical illusion, I'll have to wait until my boyfriend or one of my chick friends comes around to confirm that I'm not going out of my god damn mind.




Sometimes it feels like nothing has changed.


Blood at Mercy this afternoon... uneventful. As usual.

who can say.

248.0 on the scale this morning, then sushi for lunch. BOO YA.

I just ran 2.14 miles in 29:00. Map My Run calculates my pace at 13:33 which I think is hella impressive considering how many times I had to walk (three... but it felt like more). My HRM says I burned 538 calories.

Makes me feel a shit ton better about that happy meal I had last night. But it came with an Optimus Prime toy, I couldn't say no! And I had to have another shamrock shake before they go away again.

I HAD TO.

but tonight i'm f**king you.

Do you know what I don't understand?

Lululemon.

I. DON'T. GET. IT.

I'm trying, I'm trying really hard, but if I want to sweat in $100 I'll throw a Benjamin under my armpit or down my bra.



Pursuant to a nasty text I received from my father, I spent the day chasing down car-related things. First I had to grab my new license plates from the county, and then I had to meet with an insurance agent who raped the shit out of my pocketbook and shook my hand with much gusto as he wished me "good luck" on my impending marriage. I'm pretty sure he was thinking of all the commission he made off of me, 'cause clearly his head wasn't in the right place. Impending marriage? Good luck? Yeah... what the hell.

It took less time than I thought it would and I was proud at how well I had managed my free time before work, but the sudden freedom I experienced at 1:40pm gave me the impression that I would have time to fit in a run before work. Instead, my brain was ready for a run but the clock and reality got the best of me. I've had this super disappointed feeling in my chest all afternoon because I feel like I was cheated, even though all of this is entirely my fault. Ugh, adulthood.

Really, I have no business running today since I'm still sore from that ass kicking handed to me by the hill around the corner from my apartment. But my brain wanted to run and now my brain is disappointed. Fuck.

My new sweat bands were delivered today! They still have a very umm... fresh and chemical smell to them from the packaging and I'm afraid they're a little snug, but I imagine a few cycles through the wash will take care of both problems. Nonetheless, I am still uber pumped to have another new running accessory to throw into the mix.


Here's to hoping for a super skinny weekend. I could seriously use a breakthrough. 249.0 and ready.

oh it's good for nothing.

I just ran 2.16 miles in 32:47 IN THE RAIN. It was actually less time than that but the stopwatch feature on my heart rate monitor confuses me and I always screw things up.

Firstly, omg hills. Secondly, omg downhills. I think I dislike downhills worse.

I feel really effing good right now.


PS - ran for the first time in my new Sprints. I need more of these shoes.

on the path unwinding.

Is a calorie a calorie?

True story, my dad and I had a conversation about this exact topic over the weekend. Meanwhile, I have a friend on Facebook starting a riot between protein shake fanatics over which brand is the best.

What's so hard about eating right?

Before I start to give the impression that I'm sitting on a high horse, here are some facts:
I'm sitting in my clean workout clothes thinking about the workout I promised I would do this morning.
As of this morning, I weight 248.5 or 249 (my scale couldn't make up its mind).
I love bad foods. Maybe more than the average person.

Okay, let's resume.

On this blog, I put a heavy emphasis on the exercise I do and I'm afraid I've been giving a skewed impression of my priorities. The truth is, exercise is important to me mostly because it keeps my food habits in check. I eat better when I exercise, bottom line. That being said, it's not really that hard to eat better. The hard part is convincing the people around you to join you on your journey towards better health, or if that fails, convincing the people around you to shut the hell up when you choose the pricy salad instead of the cheap unlimited pizza buffet.

So while it might be true that 2000 calories of Cheetos is the same as 2000 calories of rabbit food in terms of caloric benefits, I can tell you from experience you're a thousand times less likely to go for a run after pounding a bag of Cheetos.

Even though Cheetos are so god damn delicious.




I didn't PMS this month and I seem to be low on the bloating. Scale read 248.5 at the first reading, one bathroom trip later is was reading 249.0. What the hell? Whatever, this is good news.

Dr Stern called yesterday! ... while I was driving. Damn near swerved into another car reaching for my phone. Except I just knew it was her calling before I picked up the phone and I had to answer. Yes, had to. She got my ABG results and she said everything is good and I can continue on my current dose of Diamox. Honestly, I was hoping I could increase the Diamox, but in the end I can accept this as good news. She also said I'm due for another basic metabolic panel next week to check my potassium on the Lasix. Things are getting confusing having to do everything over the phone, considering half the time I catch her while she's at her other office and she doesn't have my chart with her. Whatever. Six weeks until my next appointment.

I'm falling in love with my legs. It's almost a problem because I'm already in mad-love with myself in general.



Ps... that banner pic: Cheetos. #fuckyeah

what do you say to taking chances...

My sister was a giant bitch with severe self esteem issues. It was a personal hobby of hers to make me cry. You know all the attention school bullies get in the media today? Yeah, well imagine you share a room with your bully and your parents ignore all your pleas for help. I was labelled a crybaby at a very young age stemming from my complaints from being bullied; eventually I learned to hide my tears.

One of the things my sister said to me that I'll never forget: you have tree trunk legs. Despite being siblings, we're as opposite as can be. She has an apple shape with thin, shapely legs, while I'm a pear with my pockets of fat distributed everywhere. Including my legs. I've always hated my legs, probably because I was told at a very young age that they were essentially ugly. Thanks sister, it's no wonder we have no relationship.

Over the last few years I've given up caring what my legs look like because Iowa summers are relentless in both the heat and humidity departments and my even most desperate attempts to keep my legs covered almost always end in heat stroke. But my heart breaks a little every time I look at shorts or summer dresses knowing that my legs are still tree trunks. Even more than seeing my weight start with a 1, my most wanted weight loss goal is to have thin, shapely legs. I honestly have no idea if my genetics allow it, but if you've ever seen Celine Dion in a miniskirt then you must know exactly why this is a big deal to me.


There, now you can say you've seen Celine Dion in a miniskirt

The reason for my superfluous preamble is to comment on the state of my legs. This time last year they were jiggly, cellulite-ridden, couldn't carry me half a mile if I was being chased by an ax murderer. These days, my legs are still tree trunks. But now, they're solid. You couldn't knock me over if you tried. Still some cellulite here and there, but it's mostly muscle. Even the tendons around my feet are strong, like kick-like-a-horse strong.

I still have no idea if I'll ever have slinky toned legs like they do in the magazines, but for now I'm happy that my legs can take me farther than ever before.




Yesterday was.... ugh.

After work I made a pit stop at home and then went directly to the hospital for my ABG test. I went straight to the lab with my order form thingy and I got the same line, "You need to go to registration first." BITCH, NO I DON'T. I was JUST in there last Monday, you would think making such frequent trips they would remember my face. I'm pretty fuckin' memorable. Well what NO ONE bothered to inform me was that ABG is done in the respiratory department on the other end of the hospital. The lady at the lab was nice enough to give me directions, after which I found my way without a problem.

I got to the Cardiology unit and I waited and wait and waited... eventually my nice respiratory therapist lady took me in for the test. Right off the bat she says to me, "I've never gotten an ABG on the first try. Let's hope I don't have to stick you too many times." Thanks for instilling me with such confidence. So I watched her break eight needle kits before she finally figured out how to properly remove them from the packaging. She stuck my right wrist first and it was an epic failure. A PAINFUL epic failure. She moved on to my left wrist and desperately wiggled the needle around the subcutaneous space until she struck my artery.

Let me tell you something. Doctors are NOT joking when they say having an ABG done is painful. IT SURE FUCKIN' IS.

The nice lady had me wait in the lobby until my results came back; after ten minutes she returned and told me everything was fine and I was good to go. I don't know exactly what "everything is fine" means, but I imagine that my blood pH is good enough that I shouldn't expect to see the inside of an ER anytime soon. So yay?

I'm half expecting a call from Dr Stern today with further instructions. I'm half expecting to not receive a call at all, in which case I'm going to be a solid wreck this week until I get a word with the doc. Ugh.

I left the hospital and went directly to Walgreen's to pick up the Lasix that Dr Stern was so kind to call in for me, since I was down to my last four pills I was really cutting it close. I collected boyfriend from work and we had dinner together. I ordered the 7 Seas Burrito and OH MY G how have I not had this before? My life has changed for the better. Afterwards we went to the grocery store to stock up on produce and I almost kinda wish I hadn't. Everything was expensive and there was limited selection at both stores we visited... not a good week to be eating. Maybe it's a good week to diet?

The burrito created a glob of food cement in my stomach that refused to move for hours. At 9pm I had enough and threw on my favorite tights to go running. I realized when running at my parents' this weekend that I like repetition and measurable distances, therefore running in circles is my comfort zone. I hate being thrown for a loop and it really helps reduce my anxiety and boost my overall performance if I know what's ahead, so I mapped out a run around the block where I live. It's 1.08 miles in a loop around the block without crossing any streets. I did that twice last night and it was incredible. It's hilly where I live so there were some really really slow spots, but I did it. I did it TWICE. My heart rate monitor says I burned 584 calories in the 30+ minutes I was out there. Due to a technological issue during a pit stop, I don't know what my exact time was, but whatevs. I did it.

I so totally freaking did it.

And my legs look amazing.

i must confess that my loneliness is killing me now.

note: not my foot.

I don't know what the fuck is going on with my weight. Up one day, down another. But it's always within a safe 4 pound range (2 pounds in any direction) so I convince myself it's water. Or other bloat-related things.

I realize why March hasn't been especially productive and I make no apologies for it. I am hurting my body. Except at first, hurting my body came with really great incentives like lose-six-pounds-in-one-week that made the downside of not-being-able-to-walk-without-praying-to-baby-Jesus-for-strength worth it.

Newsflash: it's not worth it.

For the first time in weeks I can't remember what it feels like to have to wince and hobble my way around. I'm sore, but it all feels so good. And I'm pretty sure the muscle imbalance I was experiencing with my legs has resolved itself. Taking it easy FTW!

I visited my parents this weekend since boyfriend went out of town for a man-adventure. It was wonderful and incredible, and I'm sure I would have more to say on the subject if you asked me at a different time, but right now it's just a blur of laughs and good food and puppy kisses. I can never get enough puppy kisses.

This weekend did bring a few opportunities that have me buzzing with excitement. Firstly, I went shopping with my momma and I scored loads of new workout gear. It's surreal how my gym bag has taken over my life, but I feel like a runner. I'm almost being swallowed by running tights and Body Glide and hair bands and playlists for my iPod. AND THE VIBRAMS. Ugh, it just feels good.

Secondly, I hadn't worked out in days and I attacked a block of two year old Parmesan cheese on Saturday and I knew I was going to have too much green beer for St. Patty's, so I convinced myself to take a run. Outside. On asphalt.

I RAN OUTSIDE ON ASPHALT. !!!!!

It was dark and late when I finally got around to running and my parents we worried I'd get raped or kidnapped, so they limited me to the area by their house. For simplicity/measurement, I ran around the block three times, Map My Run tells me I did 1.89mi and my heart rate monitor says I ran for 23:59 (a whopping pace of 12:41). It was easier than I thought it would be, but I certainly felt it kicking my ass when I woke up the next morning. Running on asphalt is a different monster and suddenly I understand why runners only run every other day.

Now that the weather is nice, I'm looking forward to getting to pick between the treadmill and the sidewalk. As long as we're being honest, I have to admit running outside rocks my face off.

250, and anxiously awaiting Dr Stern to return my phone call.

get up and shake the glitter off your clothes.

My heart is aching for Las Vegas right now. I have a few friends there now who are clogging up my Facebook feed with their horrible, terrible, good-for-nothing photos. And by that I mean, I hate them and I'm so terribly jealous.

Even though my only reason for going to Vegas isn't an option until June:



Bonjour, Céline. Come back to Vegas soon, k? I need something to look forward to.


You would think on a semi-good news day such as today (ps fuck St Patty's), I would be in better spirits. But alas, the bad news bears (aka Dr Stern) called yesterday with something I had been half expecting for a while now.

My bicarb had dropped even lower. She had to consult a nephrologist (seriously, it's like I'm collecting specialists now) who suggested I come in for an arterial blood gas (ABG) test. They're going to stick me in my wrist and check my blood pH to see exactly how fucked I am.

Doc says she wants to do everything she can to keep me on the Diamox, but apparently this situation is bad. Bad, bad, bad. In my frustration (and stupidity) I forgot to mention the headaches, and the fact that I'm a few days away from running out of Lasix. SHIT GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKER.




Things are so much better in Vegas...

248.5 FTW? I can't even be happy about that right now.

a few small repairs

Still no call from the doc. My friend astutely pointed out that it's spring break (duh) and there's a chance she's on vacation, or at least out of the office. So fuuuuuuck. I'm anxious to get back to a full dose of Diamox because I'm afraid the headaches are back.

The headaches are back.

Before, I didn't notice them because it was a constant dull throbbing and I didn't know any better. It also explains why I took so many naps before. I honestly cannot remember the last time I napped... I don't nap anymore, I sleep. Because sleep is for grown-ups.

Speaking of sleep, I slept for over ten hours last night. TEN. I naturally woke at 5am but I snuggled in bed for another half hour for good measure. I feel incredible today. Naturally, that means work is going to be a nightmare. For some reason when I'm well rested time goes by really slow. Eff that.

After work yesterday I picked up boyfriend and we went to the mall. I've been having this problem lately when I workout, I get overheated and it makes me want to quit that much sooner. Let's be real here, working out is already hard enough without having additional external forces making you want to quit. QUITTING IS NO BUENO. So my purpose for going to the mall was to find cropped running pants or capris (apparently in the fitness world there's a difference between cropped pants and capri pants). I was so pleased with the pants I had gotten from Old Navy last summer that I went back there again, and BAM within five minutes I found my dream capris. DREAM CAPRIS. Since I was already at the store I decided to peruse the merchandise (seriously... I am ALL UP in every single rack when I go shopping) and I walked out with a red cardigan, a nice red blouse for work, a new spiffy exercise headband, and a ruched striped tee for the summer. I had an old Groupon that expired that was still good for $10 and the nice chick at the register said there was a promotion going on, $10 off for purchases over $50. My merchandise total: $52. So after my two awesome discounts I came out of that store with some serious swag for a mere $32. HOW'S THAT FOR AWESOME.

I had every intention to go to the gym last night to try out my new exercise gear and instead I fell into a nap that turned into a ten hour sleep marathon. I had been trying on my new clothes when this happened and I am thrilled to report that I slept in my new capris and headband and both were comfy as fuck (execuse my language). I'm seriously impressed with the headband which didn't fall off my fat head in all ten hours of sleep despite my very violent thrashing (I'm a messy sleeper).

I feel different this morning, perhaps it's because I fell asleep on a stomach full of Mexican food (bad choice). I'm going with an all-fruit breakfast, and I switched up my usual lunch salad for a veggie wrap (tomato and avocado on wheat with extra salt). I'm going to give my Vibrams a break today and run in my Adipures (mostly cuz it matches so perfectly with my new outfit).

I'm just rambling now.

OH OH OH. I ordered Body Glide the other day and it's being delivered today, and my new Vibrams come tomorrow. UPS guy = Santa Claus.

filler in the space that happened to be free

I had this idea that I would get hot and skinny before going to Las Vegas last summer. I don't know what the hell I was thinking considering we booked our trip a mere 50 days before departure, which is obviously not enough time to make any serious progress in the sexy category. My "get sexy" plan was actually a pretty big undertaking: I did a substantial overhaul of my wardrobe (seriously, I spent thousands of dollars... and most of those items don't fit anymore), and I decided to re-enroll myself in the Proactiv skincare system.

Oh dear, did I say that out loud?

I have naturally good skin, like unusually good. But in the last few years I've developed this weird patchy bumpy thing along the edges of my cheeks and forehead. It's so subtle that the only people who can see it are myself, my boyfriend, and my dental hygienist (eww). It looks like the beginning of a rash, except it's normal colored, it doesn't itch or hurt, and it never goes away and it never gets worse. A slathering of Proactiv a couple times a week and the problem goes away like POOF.

The purpose of mentioning this is that it's been uber important to my weight loss process to maintain other aspects of my beauty regimen, mostly for self esteem reasons. I'm 43 pounds lighter and the only thing that changed is that my boobs shrunk. Seriously. It gets upsetting day after day to realize that I'm still wearing the same jeans as last year (THE EXACT SAME PAIR) and I still can't run a non-stop 5k and I'm still on medication. TWO medications.

Someone recently told me that I lost weight around my face. I don't see it, but I know that my skin looks hella good. Even at a cost of $30 a month (seriously, Proactiv, you're raping my wallet), it's so totally worth it.




So let me tell you my newest problem: mood swings. Except, I don't realize I'm in a mood swing until after it's over. As you can imagine, this is a nightmare for the people around me. Not only that, but it's also affecting the way I eat (or, at least, the way I see food). I could have sworn I was pigging out like crazy over the last few days and I was certain I had gained weight, so you can imagine my surprise yesterday when I got the grand reading of 249.5. The truth is, even my pig-outs are health conscious (wheat bread, ALWAYS wheat bread). And my fear of getting stuck in a weight plateau: (mostly) irrational. Because I've seen 250 on the scale for a few days now, I got it in my head that I've been stuck at 250 for ages. A quick review of my blog and I see that I've lost six pounds in two weeks. SIX POUNDS IN TWO WEEKS. But if you were to ask me during one of my moods, I would tell you that March is a wash and I will try harder next month.

It's March fucking twelfth. Uhh... apparently it's the thirteenth. Four day weekends fuck me sideways.

How is it that I am so willing to give up on a month before it's even half over? Ugh, hormones. I don't even get to blame this on my ovaries, I'm just THAT crazy.




I went to Mercy yesterday to have blood taken. I'm hoping that my super healthy diet and my lack of exercise recently has given my body a chance to stabilize my electrolytes, more specifically my bicarbonate levels. I miss Diamox. I really, truly do. I meant to go to the hospital early in the morning so that the lab would have plenty of time to process my results and get it sent over to Dr Stern early so that she would call me on the same day, but alas the wonderful feeling of sleeping in 'cause it's spring break got the best of me. As I anxiously await her call (I've been at work since 6am, it's been agonizing waiting for time to pass since the moment I woke up) I'm nervously Googling all I can on the benefits of coconut water.

I bought a bottle last night, it was on sale ($2.50 for 11 ounces... eek!) and I thought it would hit the spot after my brutal workout yesterday. I would consider it an understatement to say that I love coconuts. LOVE LOVE LOVE. I do not love coconut water. I don't know if it's the bad taste side effect thingy from my meds or if I'm just not meant to have coconut water in my life, but choking down a single gulp was almost too much. I'd say there's at least 7 ounces of coconut water in my fridge at this very moment, and that's after several attempts at drinking it.

I can't decide if I want to hear Dr Stern tell me I have to stay on the Lasix so that I'll have the opportunity to try other brands (and other flavors?) of coconut water, or if I'll be relieved to have her tell me that I'm done with Lasix and I can lay off the drastic attempts to pump up the potassium.

I'm starting to hate bananas.




PS - The Hawkeye men's basketball team made the NIT this year! I think a group of us are going to the game tonight... GO HAWKS.

temporary fix.

choses que j'ai fait ce weekend:

Okay, back up. I was checking up on my French grammar (because those damn VANDERTRAMP verbs still stump me) and I Googled "j'ai fait" and the first thing that came up was this:

"Almodóvar : "J'ai fait un cunninlingus à une actrice..."

Oh, Pedro. Vraiment? Look dude, I respect your artistic integrity, but it wouldn't hurt to exercise a little tact.

Onward:

On Friday I took the day off from work to accommodate my family's stop through town. I had lunch with boyfriend (two salads, one bowl of soup at Chili's) and for dinner my parents brought homemade burritos (I had one, it was chile relleno). Later that night I got munchy so I had a small cup of rice and beans with a bit of fresh salsa sprinkled in.

Saturday I made quesadillas for me and the boys. I had half of one on wheat with minimal cheese. For dinner my parents took us out to dinner, I ordered the baked ziti with shrimp and chicken and I had two small slices of wheat table bread. It was super indulgent. As if that wasn't bad enough, I convinced boyfriend to go to McD's for ice cream and I ordered a MEDIUM shamrock shake. I know, I'm ashamed. When it came down to it, thinking of only having a small made me break out in sweats so I had a moment of weakness and asked for a medium. Seriously, I'm just proud I resisted the large, it was that necessary.

On Sunday I had a small bowl of huevos con chorizo then I took my HEALED self to the gym. The pain in my right upper thigh finally went away after a very long five days away from the gym. I ran 2 miles on the treadmill and did another 2.5 miles on the elliptical. I WAS ON FIRE.

For dinner boyfriend baked some chicken drumsticks and I whipped up a pot of mashed potatoes. It was my intention to leave the potatoes for boyfriend and take the meat from one drumstick to add to a salad, and instead I ate all that and a salad. Shame.

Last week felt so out of control being away from the gym. I was aggravated and stressed and I lost control of things. I honestly felt like my eating was running away from my grips and I feared what the scale would have to say to me. Today's weigh-in: 249.5.

Encore, dans le cas où vous n'avez pas entendu la première fois: 249.5!!

It doesn't feel the way I thought it would. I thought there would be tears, or at least a jump for joy. Not even a single leap. Nothing. Rien de tout. I was happy for all of eight seconds before the lengthy to-do list in my head recaptured my attention.

Give blood, post office, gym, bank, pilates, dinner, clean...

Ugh. Today's sad, sad realization (it's also happy and enlightening at the same time) is that EVERY.POUND.COUNTS. Every half pound, and every tiny fraction that accumulated over the last few months. It all counts. So this weekend's half pound is important, but no more important than the half pound before it or the half pound after it. The truth is, I still have a long way to go. I'm proud of every single thing I've accomplished but I don't have the luxury of indulging in self-congratulatory practices every time the scale changes a little. It's all good, but my butt still bounces when I run.

Gotta work on that.

250 ..... WHAT!

more on this later.

what do you say?

All my years of studying French never prepared me for this. Les Quebecois. We were exposed to all the various French (as in France) accents, to Senegal, to Côte d'Ivoire, but not les Quebecois. I feel cheated that the many, many years I've spent studying the language never covered the subject of our Canadian friends.

Ugh, Canada. I love you. But seriously, Quebec, I don't understand what you're saying. Plus lent, non?

The reason I'm posting a video from a cooking show is because food is delicious. But I'm fighting with food right now, so if I can't eat any I might as well watch it. I'm *aheam* stopped up. I'm in serious need of a good dump. HAHAHA. You need to know this.

I feel off. I blame the stress of midterms. I was so desperate I was forced to do something naughty... I doubled up on the Diamox. Just once though! I was torn about it, especially considering that I'm supposed to be on a Diamox break to give my kidneys a chance to recover (reminder: blood test on Monday). But I really really really needed a pick-me-up.


I got Friday off from work, so I'm looking at a four day weekend and NO CLASSES NEXT WEEK. And I get to puppysit this weekend. Things are looking up.

the wonders of my world.

I can't say no to a white russian.

I can say no to the gym. And to studying. And to going to bed at appropriate times.

Basically, I have my priorities in the right place. My Spring Break officially starts Wednesday night. On the agenda: unfettered drinking, sibling bonding time this weekend, parents on Friday and Sunday.

WHATEVER EFFING GOES.

Because at the end of the day, I so totally deserve it.

we can do anything.

This weekend was a weight maintenance weekend, without me realizing that it was a weight maintenance weekend. Ugh, the worst.

On Friday I didn't workout and I had a huge lunch that threw off my hunger so I skipped dinner. Problem #1. When I came home late at night I had half a turkey sandwich and a rice krispy treat. And then we went to bed. Problem #2.

On Saturday I realized my last avocado was dangerously close to going bad so I made some fresh guacamole. I had a grilled wheat quesadilla with my guacamole and I was hella proud of myself for having made TWO lunches (fried quesadillas with extra cheese for boyfriend, and then my lunch) and resisting the deliciousness/convenience of just eating what boyfriend ate. Except... I forgot that I'm lactose intolerant. Problem #3.

I went to the gym despite feeling absolutely dreadful, thinking I would make it to a mile and be done. I RAN FOR TWO. TWO WHOLE MILES. At my current pace, I would finish a 5k in under 44 minutes, which isn't super impressive, but the point is that it's within reach. I went for two miles on the elliptical and hobbled home to do a half hour of Pilates.

I had some leftover guacamole from lunch that inspired me to make flautas (fried rolled tacos). Problem #4. I ATE WAY TOO MUCH. But it was soooooo delicious I just couldn't say no. After dinner we met some friends to go bowling. There was lots of beer, but I had one Woodchuck and stole a few sips of beer from boyfriend's glass to limit my intake. I was proud of myself. After bowling boyfriend wanted to hit the bars but our friends weren't interested, so we went home instead. Boyfriend's calls for more beer put me in the drinking mood so I ran out for a bottle of Kahlua. Problem #5. I had 1½ tall glasses of White Russian before I passed out cold.

Sunday morning boyfriend made sausage and eggs and I ate too much. Problem #6. Then we spent the whole damn day catching up on the newest season of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. Problem #7. For dinner boyfriend made buffalo chicken burgers with french fries and I ate like I wasn't on a diet. Problem #8. I went to the gym way too soon after eating, all I was able to accomplish was 1 mile on the treadmill and 1 mile on the elliptical. Problem #9. It was bad news.

Overall, the weekend wasn't completely out of control, but in writing it out I can identify no less than NINE places where I made poor decisions. I don't know where my determination went this weekend, I'm just happy I had enough sense about me to keep going to the gym despite the grossness I felt from the excessive eating and drinking.

Scale is steady at 251.0.


On a side note, I found my measurements from January 2011. For giggles, I measured myself today. I see progress, but it's not exactly impressive (which, I might add, was exactly what I was expecting). I think the last 40 pounds will be more dramatic than the first 40. True story.

go run, run, run.

WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH WOULD A COMPANY MAKE A 680 CALORIE DRINK ONLY COST $2.59?! It's like McDonald's has some sort of arrangement with the healthcare industry. BLASPHEMY.

Even a small is a whopping 540 calories. I'd have to ask for no whipped cream (seriously, McCafé, wtf is with the gratuitous use of whipped cream?!) and throw half of it out and exercise strenuously for a solid half hour to even justify THINKING of having one of these monstrosities.

But it's only around for a limited time, and if we're being honest with ourselves, then you know that the return of the Shamrock Shake is kind of a big deal. BIG EFFING DEAL. I would not feel right about myself if I didn't have one this year.



I like how my legs look. And my ass, and my hips, and my stomach, and just about everything about myself these days. It's absolutely intoxicating.

I broke my own rule and now I'm consumed with calorie counts. I took a day off from the gym (it was WELL DESERVED since I had gone five days straight and my body is tired) and had lunch with boyfriend. I'm estimating my lunch to have been around 1000 calories and it's not sitting well with my decision to skip the gym. Also, I'm uncomfortably full.

Scale read 251.0 this morning. Actually, at first it said 253.5 and I almost punched a hole in the wall. But I was standing on it funny the first time and I ALWAYS weigh myself twice for verification so when it stepped on the scale the second time and got a reading of 251.0, I was relieved. It said 251.0 the third, fourth, and fifth times too, just for good measure. This means *drumroll* I'm a little over a pound from saying au revoir to the 250s and UN GROS BONJOUR to the lower end of the 200s.

249.5 > 250.0

I know that's bad math logic, buttttt it makes perfect life-sense.

Goal for Monday morning: 249.5. I've never felt more capable than I do now.

i'm starting with the [wo]man in the mirror.

Sometimes I feel like my weight is a collection of the food I've eaten. Like that banana I had for breakfast... its full weight will be reflected on the scale. Never mind its nutritional value or the the fuel it contributed to my metabolic process. It's just weight.

Don't get the wrong impression. I'm an intelligent, well-educated, reasonable individual, and I know damn well that there's more to that banana than calories and mass. But sometimes, just sometimes, I pick up an apple and think, "huh... that's a heavy apple" and I grab for a smaller one. True story.


My bestie and I have been supporting each other's weight processes for the better part of 8 years now. I say "weight processes" because there have been times that we encouraged binge eating, binge drinking, serial napping, as well as all the activities we've undertaken while trying to lose weight, too. We've been lamenting the differences in our lifestyles for years now, with promises that we'll "start working out together soon" or "I'll meet you in your city next week" or "we should plan weekly meals together." I'm sad (and not surprised) to say that it's never happened. But today we put our intellects together to come up with a solution that requires no extraordinary measures: texting. Instead of trying to coordinate our schedules, we're doing our own thing on our own time and texting each other about it. GENIUS.

Let me tell you why it's genius:

• We text all the time anyhow
  
• No driving required
  
• No schedule changes required
  
• Can be done anytime, anywhere
  
• And most importantly, we're challenging ourselves while still being accountable to the other person.
  

In other news, I've been going through my closet this week. There are items that I throw on that used to fit and now they're horribly baggy, and other items that I would avoid because they didn't fit that fit perfectly now. My closet is a mess. Today I tackled the large storage bin of pants/shorts that's been hiding under my bed. I don't care much for my legs so I avoid shorts, but summers in Iowa are brutal so shorts are unavoidable. With the weather forecasting temperatures in the mid 60s next week (!!) I thought this project would prove to be fruitful.

Quite. the. opposite.

None of my damn shorts fit anymore. I mean, there's so much extra fabric, and they barely cling to my body without falling down. There's no chance in hell most of these items will last another month, much less serve me through the summer. My first impulse is to go shopping, but I think I'm going to resist the urge and hold out for more weight loss. Running has made my legs happy beautiful (or, at least better looking than before) and it would tickle me pink to buy TWO sizes smaller instead of just going down one size.



Sometimes, I don't believe this is happening.

daydream believer.

February 1: 264.5
March 1: 252.0

I was feeling like February wasn't my month, like I should pat myself on the back for trying and give it my all next month.

I had a sneaking suspicion yesterday that I had officially reached 40 pounds but I couldn't verify that until this morning.

Today, March 1, 2012, I have lost 40 pounds.

My panties fit better, all my jeans are baggy, and there's nothing in my closet I can't wear.

My next goal is a small one: to reach 245. It is the weight at which I met my boyfriend; the heaviest I've been as a single lady, and the skinniest I've been as one-half of this relationship. Timeline: end of spring break.