i just crush a lot.

Phase 1 of my weight loss happened primarily in the kitchen. Better foods and less of everything else made the weight fly off because that's how metabolisms work: I was eating too many calories for what my body needed. But Phase 1 actually STARTED in the gym. I couldn't handle having to revamp my entire diet because of the huge commitment involved: PICKING better foods, BUYING better foods, and EATING better foods. You have to know 1) what to buy, 2) where to find it, 3) how to use it/cook with it, 4) actually make something of it before it becomes a fixture of your life. For example: I know chia seeds are really good for you. I have no fucking clue in this sweet world where I could find those in my grocery store and even if I did bring a bag home, they would most likely take up space in the back of my pantry never to be eaten. So for me, chia seeds are no good because I won't commit to using them.

But committing to the gym... that was something different. In the very beginning, it was embarrassingly obvious that I had zero athletic ability and that baby steps in ANY direction were going to make a world of difference. My routine has changed tremendously in the last year-and-a-half, and despite knowing that my struggles with weight loss are really struggles with food, I keep plugging away at the treadmill.

Why? Good question.

Because exercise keeps me motivated. It's the burn in my abs, the fatigue in my lower legs, the tingle in my shoulders that remind me throughout the day to make smart choices. I desperately wanted bread today, anything with bread. White bread with barely any nutritional value, dismal quantities of fiber and way too much salt for something that's not even salty, I wanted THAT. But the memory of the sweat dripping off my face as I did my bench presses at the gym today reminded me that I am better than that.

Exercising makes me want to get up earlier so that I have more time to do everything I want to do with my day. It helps me make better food choices because I absolutely DO NOT believe in the theory of eating something to "burn it off" later. It makes me feel good about myself because I'm stronger, leaner, more flexible, and every day is a surprise to see what my body does next. I feel like I've finally had a breakthrough with the gym. I don't dread the treadmill (I promise I'll stop calling it the dreadmill) and I've expanded my weight lifting routine so I'm actually excited to go in every day. It feels pretty effing good.

And, and, and. Who doesn't love a challenge?!

I've been speed and hill training on the treadmill lately (increasing my speed by 0.1 every 2 minutes until my body can't handle it, and running at a 5.0 incline) and the burst of triumph in my chest gave me a bounce in my step that not even a long day at work could take away. I did two new things today: I ran at a 5.3 (my normal is 4.9) and I ran at a 7.5 incline (usually go for 5.0). My face was flushed, my shirt was soaked in sweat, it took me a while to catch my breath, but I did it and no one can take that away from me. Sure, the girl in front of me was running at 8.7 mph fresh as a fucking flower, but that's her business. MY business was AWESOME and that's all that matters.

I'm excited for tomorrow. I'm happy that I made the choice to put myself in an uncomfortable scenario for a fraction of my day because now I know I'm better for it. I'm proud that I didn't quit, and I'm thrilled to get to do it all over again.

On a final note: that video above... OMG. It's literally been on repeat at home for days. I watched the video over and over and over on the treadmill, and then I did the same on my iPod while lifting weights... two days in a row. Mad love for Miss Celine.

mo li hua.

A must read for ladies everywhere.

I am not going to lie, I am a huge fan of the c-word, and of the b-word, and of the s-word (slut... YEAH I SAID IT), and all their derivatives and synonyms and equally deplorable counterparts. That being said, NO ONE is allowed to refer to me by any of those names without my permission. In college, it was all too easy to give way to the habit of greeting our friends with a "hey slut" or "what's up, bitch?" and to anyone whom I may have offended in speaking that way, I am truly, honestly, deeply sorry. But [brace yourself for a seriously unpopular opinion here] I'm not afraid of these words, in fact I find it empowering to embrace them.

Call me a bitch, and I'll show you one.

If you think I'm a slut, well... that's your business. I'm not ashamed of what I do in bed.

As far as c--t, I just think it's funny. Plain funny. If a man calls me a c--t, I'll say it right back to him. In our society this kind of degradation is so rampant that it's almost become meaningless, but what does it say if a woman calls a man a c--t? I'm not sure, but I know that men don't like it. Besides, what is a c--t anyway? I know it's supposed to refer to female genitalia, but what does it mean to personify it? Don't know, don't care. It doesn't hurt me, and I'll call you one right back just to watch you squirm.

I personally believe that we need to stop weaponizing words, and the first step in accomplishing that is to stop being afraid to use them. There is a whole arsenal of adjectives that are so taboo that only the rudest of people would think to use them and that's where they get their power -- exclusivity. I'm not advocating for b---- and s--- and c--- to be thrown around in casual conversation, not at all.

A man thinks it's degrading to call you a bitch. Okay, so he calls you a bitch. If he thinks it's degrading for a WOMAN to be a bitch, imagine how he would feel if you called him (a MAN) a bitch. I promise it'll hurt him more than it hurts you.

Words only hurt if you allow them to. So go ahead, call me a c--t. I get a real kick out of it because I am SECURE in WHO I AM to know that your thoughts don't affect my good nature. I am who I am regardless of what you think of me or what you call me. So suck it.

Secondly, bravo on the closing quote in that link. I have a little name, clocking in at three whopping letters, but not a day goes by that I'm not called the wrong name or having to correct someone. I often get asked, "does it matter?" Yes, it fucking matters.

It's laziness at its worst to assume that you, a stranger, can rename me because my name is inconvenient to remember and unusual to pronounce. It's rude to my parents who gave a lot of thought on what to name me, it strips away the sentimentality and the meaning (it's a family name, and a nod to my grandparents' religious convictions and their importance in my life); I am not a rose, I would not be the same by any other name. It's rude to me to sweep aside a lifetime of being me because you can't be bothered to repeat after me: Ah-nah. Not Anna.

It has taken decades (I can say that plural, even at 26 I can say it's been a decades-long struggle) to embrace that my name makes me and that I make the name. True fact: I went by a nickname for the first half of my life, so I can honestly say that there IS a difference when it comes to the name/personality relationship. So if I am meeting you for the first time, be a dear and say it as I say it. Let me be the person I am meant to be, the person I introduce myself as, not as the person you decide you want me to be.

You don't know what I've gone through to earn and to love and to accept every letter, every syllable of my name. Respect it.

close your eyes, have no fear.

Today I celebrate a very special day. On February 26, 2009, I realized a lifelong dream of seeing Celine Dion perform in concert. I had front row floor seats for her FINAL show on the Taking Chances World Tour in Omaha. I have the best memories of that night and I still can't believe it happened, or that I've been so fortunate as to see her two more times since then. The video above is not my own, I lost all my recordings from the night when I broke my phone. I purposely wore a bright pink blazer to stand out in the crowd and if you look hard you can spot me (well, my arms and shoulders). To give you an idea of the impeccable view I had from my seats, at 2:00 Miss Celine stands on the edge of the stage... she spent that entire segment singing at me. The people who rushed the stage were sitting right next to me... bunch of weirdos but it made for fun company that night. So, to wrap this up, gros bisous to Celine for the music, hugs and kisses to my momma for making good on a promise and being my concert buddy.

PS - my shoe shipment arrives tomorrow. I might have to call in sick to work to head out for a run.

Alright.

This morning I met with my neurologist. I was running a bit late because at the last minute boyfriend asked for a ride to work and I couldn't say no. I walked straight up to the receptionist and she says, "Ana, right? Dr Stern is actually at the office today."

Um... what the fuck.

In almost two years of seeing this doc, I have only ever met with her in one place. I didn't know she had an office? I thought this WAS the office! Thankfully the receptionist was sweet enough to give me directions and call over to the other office to let them know I was on my way (since I was three minutes past my appointment time at this point). It was no biggie in the end, this other office is located in a building adjacent to where I was. I was told I could take the sky walk, but I opted to go outside and cross the street instead. Two minutes later, I was in Suite 105. Easy peasy.

After updating my patient records and providing them with my new insurance information (this is the THIRD time I've used my new plan and it's been immensely better than before... thank sweet baby Jesus), I was in an exam room waiting to be seen. My doc gets straight to the point and there's very little chatter (I like that about her, I don't make conversation)... we talked about weight, my headaches, chapped lips and dry skin, I asked about the hives I've been experiencing and she referred me to a PCP. And then she blind sighted me.

"Any pregnancy plans?

No joke, I thought my lungs stopped working. WHAT?! Pregnancy plans?? Are you fucking kidding me? Aside from the fact that I've had this conversation with her before, I assume that everyone I know on more than just a casual level knows one thing about me: I don't want kids. So yeah, to ask if I am planning a pregnancy will be answered with a very enthusiastic "fuck no." Once I got over the shock and calmed myself down from the most offensive thing I could think of being asked, I came to some conclusions: she's my doctor and she has a right to know; it's a relevant question because it affects my meds; and I'm a female in my late 20s... it's not unreasonable to expect kids. I shouldn't be so sensitive about the subject but I am. Forgive me. I told her "No kids... ever. You can put that in my chart." She gave me the eyebrow, scribbled something, and then asked about birth control. MY NEUROLOGIST. Bahahaha, that'll wake you up.

This entire visit was not at all what I expected, so I'll eat my words from yesterday. I was caught off guard every step of the way, but the most unsettling part came at the end. She asked when my next vision appoint was, which was confusing because I went just last week and my ophthalmologist swore she'd fax over her workup the same day. I don't know if it was never sent or if it was never read, but that part kinda bothered me. I told her everything I could remember about my meeting with the eye doc to catch her up to speed and then we resumed as usual.

What I wasn't expecting was this: good news. Or any news. I was expecting more of the same. And it went a little like how I had anticipated, but mostly it went the other way. Doc says things keep getting "better and better" and as soon as things are perfect, she'll start weening me off the meds.

The lesson of my last two visits with my neurologist is that this is absolutely in my control: my meds have stayed the same, my weight has stayed the same, my papilledema has stayed the same, but if I make a change surely the rest will follow. It's in my hands, I will make this a reality.

Lastly, because I'm on a shopping kick apparently, eBay has my favorite earbuds on sale in COLORS! I have been ordering the white ones from Amazon, but these are cheaper and prettier. I'm in for a pink pair.

that's just who i am this week.

I have a serious thing for cats. Boyfriend won't let me have one (not that our lease would allow it anyway) so naturally, I'm obsessed with getting one. I don't like being told no.

Richard Parker is my new crush. Life of Pi made me all kinds of sad, but I love that kitty hardcore.

OKAY. Onward.

I meet with my neurologist in 24 hours. Kinda terrified even though I KNOW what she's going to say (she's going to ask me if I've lost any weight and the answer will be a disappointing "not really," then she'll flash a light in my eyes, tell me what my ophthalmologist already saw, and then ask me some questions about my recent headaches. She'll write me a new 'scrip, give me a write-up for some blood work, shake my hand, the end). On the one hand, I think it's kind of a waste of an appointment, but on the other hand I'm all about official stuff and I like having confirmation. It feels so unfinished to not meet with her regularly even if nothing new is happening.

Speaking of cats, I have a sort of deal going with boyfriend: if the goaltender for the Pens scores a goal, I get a cat. It's been over two years since I struck this deal and I've been patiently following the Pens (hockey is not my favorite sport) in hopes that my team wouldn't let me down. Last night against the Tampa Bay Lightening, the Pens were up 5-3 in the final seconds with Tampa pulling the goalie in a vain attempt to catch up. The love of my life, Marc-Andre Fleury, took a shot from the trapezoid that went straight through center ice into Tampa Bay territory. It crossed the blue line before some fucker stopped the puck. There were seconds when the puck was gliding across the surface of the ice when reality suspended for a moment and I actually had a chance of winning a cat. IT ALMOST HAPPENED. Boyfriend was on the edge of his seat absolutely convinced that the impossible was indeed possible. But noooooo. Fuck that Tampa Bay defenseman, whoever he is. If I was more ambitious, I'd find out his name and address and send him threats.

I love you, MAF. We'll get it next time.

I'm so distraught over this missed opportunity that I had to soothe my soul with some purchases:

Some Bikilas for the cat I had planned to name Carlos.
...and a pair of Komodo Sport LS for the orange tabby that I would have named Richard Parker.

60% off plus free shipping plus 5% cash back from my bank made this absolutely irresistible. In total, I scored these 2 pairs for the magical price of $85 and I'M SO EFFING EXCITED. They came from www.6pm.com, I've never heard of it or ordered from them before but I'm 100% confident that these shoes will fit well so I don't expect to have to deal with their returns department. No word on the shipping and handling time though, so it could be a while before I have anything to say about my new shoes.

My barefoot shoes went from five to seven just like that. SEVEN. Who does that?? I'm outrageous.

sings a song that reminds him of the better times.

Things about today:

I woke up at 7am. Either I'm up at 5:30 for work, or I'm up whenever I feel like it (somewhere between 12 and 1). There usually is no middle ground. Surprisingly, I felt GREAT this morning. It's incredible what I've been able to accomplish simply by not sleeping the day away.

I had time to sip my morning coffee, took a nice drive to my ophthalmologist's office, drove home. Found that boyfriend hadn't made his way to school yet so I offered him a ride. It was nice having a few minutes to chat with him and to wish him a good day in person (usually I send that in a text when I wake up).

Took care of some stuff at home, no pressure or time commitments. I had a test to take at school (at the testing center) so I made my over while singing my lungs off in the car. Test went well (I think?) and it feels really good to have that out of the way early in the week (it wasn't due until Friday).

Went back home to catch up on some emails, got bored with the internet and decided to go to the gym. I added another month to my membership (it would have ended tomorrow but since the weather is not letting up, I took the plunge for another month). I miss running outdoors, but any exercise is better than no exercise so on the dreadmill I went. Started watching Celine Dion's Taking Chances World Tour (Montreal) on my iPad. I own the Boston show on DVD but I never got the chance to buy the French show... that's the good thing about running on the treadmill. Boyfriend usually has the iPad at the gym because I'm almost always running outside, but if I plan things right I can go to the gym early in the day and get to watch videos during a run. Technology, genius.

Lunch, shower, dress for work. Today is one of those special kind of days when the sun shines just right and your heart swells with happiness.

I know I can make the right food choices when I dedicate myself. I know I can get myself to exercise because I love the feeling of getting my ass kicked by a good run. My next serious goal is to wake up earlier every day. I have a life to live!

it's what i got.

Back to the harsh realities of life!

The past four days have been a huge lesson in dealing with uncertainty. I find myself failing at my goals more often than I'd like to admit because of one reason alone: I'm too insistent on controlling my environment.

Going out to eat happens. Having to make a meal at the gas station happens. Unexpected drinks with friends happens. Not being able to sleep, not having access to food, not taking in fluids like you normally do... all of that is more common than uncommon. I've said it before, I need to learn to roll with the punches.

This weekend involved a lot of beer. And since we were at the mercy of our hosts, the restaurant/food choices were pretty much made for me (Friday night's dinner was a local barbeque joint, Saturday brunch was delivery pizza, Sunday brunch was omelets and cinnamon rolls). I got to make ONE decision and I decided to make it count. Saturday night's dinner wasn't exactly meant to be a dinner, we had tickets for Food and Froth at the Milwaukee Public Museum where we were promised all you can eat AND drink for the hours of the event (7-10pm). A friend of ours had gone last year and suggested that we have a pre-event "dinner" comprised of appetizers because he said it would be hard to make a meal out of the food at the event. Our group met at the restaurant in Double Tree in downtown Milwaukee, and while everyone else was splitting nachos and cheese curds and soup served in bread bowls, I sprang for the salad even at a whopping $15 (they didn't offer anything smaller than entrée-sized).

I'm highly susceptible to the "when in Rome" mentality and to peer pressure as well, so it was a huge deal for me to have gone against the grain. Sure, I got weird looks when my monster sized salad was brought to my seat, but fuck you. Believe me, I would have LOVED to have had cheese curds (we WERE in Wisconsin, after all) but I rationalized my restraint by reminding myself to be selective with my indulgences. I chose beer over an unhealthy-albeit-yummy dinner and I feel really good about that choice. Go me.

I haven't weighed myself since last week, and that won't change anytime soon. Beer gives me serious bloating issues to the point of it being actual legit medical edema so I'm allowing my meds (oh how covenient you are, Mr Diamox) to do their jobs and flush out my body in time.

And for some super exciting awesome news:
I GOT TO SEE MY OPHTHALMOLOGIST TODAY!

I FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY got my insurance stuff sorted out and my new cards were mailed to me last week. I called both my doctors' offices beforehand to make absolutely certain that I wouldn't have any more insurance problems and I was assured I was good to go. Even so, I was nervous coming in for my first appointment this morning on the new insurance.

I wasn't exactly sure what the co-pay/co-insurance situation is with this new plan, so I came equipped with cash, credit, and my checkbook just in case. I had no problems checking in with the ladies in the front office and the same can be said for the process as I left the appointment. A huge relief, for certain.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but when I was forced with the choice of having to find new doctors or a new insurance plan, I told my contact at the Health Benefits office that I didn't have a preference as long as I could stay with my neurologist... all the other doctors I'd be willing to switch. I take that back. I only see my ophthalmologist once a year, but she's fantastic. Just plain wonderful. After 14 months of not seeing her she remembered me, remembered details of my case, and was genuinely interested in seeing progress in my condition. I feel really good being in her care. My vision has improved significantly since I first came in to see her in 2011 and it's been extraordinarily helpful to have a doctor taking notes on my conversations. Sometimes I feel like nothing is changing because change happens so slowly, but then I have a 14 month visit that bring me back to reality: I have moved mountains to get where I am today.

Dr T tells me there's still just a tiny bit of swelling in my left optic nerve (I was expecting this), but my eyes look good and my headaches are gone. It's not news, but it's still wonderful.

So today, I am happy for what I have. It's not perfect, it's not ideal, but it's good and I get to say it's mine.

it drowns a love i thought i knew.

That's how I feel this week.

What do you mean it's lunch time? Fuck it.

What do you mean I should go to the gym? Fuck it.

What do you mean I have assignments to submit and emails to respond to and an entire to-do list that hasn't even been touched? Fuck it.

I am a firm believer that there are some days/weeks when it's absolutely okay to say fuck it if you need that time to catch your breath.

I just need to catch my breath.

everybody everywhere.

Some housekeeping:

Some personal things came up and Vegas is off the table for March. Thinking about rescheduling for June. I've known about this for a few weeks, but my heart ached so much at the thought that I couldn't bear to say it out loud (or type it, in this case). I sat on this knowledge for a week before I told boyfriend, and even then it was teary eyed and filled with anger. I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that it was beyond my control and I am sad.

Super, super sad.

Secondly, I am positively AWFUL at blogging over the weekend. I work a 40 hour week Monday-Thursday and then have a three-day weekend, so you would think that my work days would be super busy and my off days would be prime blogging time. Clearly not so. I'll see what I can do to work on that.

My gym buddy (boyfriend) has a raging case of ITBS and this weekend in exercising can be summed up in one word: FAIL. It's really hard for me to keep from giggling because (in my mind) ITBS stands for the Iowa Test of Basic Skills and I bet there are thousands of school aged kids that will testify that ITBS is a serious injury... bahahaha. But seriously. This ITBS stuff is no joke and I'm really worried I've lost my workout pal for the next 2-4 weeks, not to mention the half hour of time I'm losing every night to having to roll out his outer thigh with a rolling pin (he's not too big on foam rolling). He is MUCH more motivated than I am so his injury means that I'll have to muster inspiration on my own. Daaaaangerous times we're living in.

I went out for a sporadic run on Saturday and it had the potential to be wonderful. It was 7 km in no particular direction and things were going great until I entered University Heights. The sidewalks were completely frozen over without so much as a single crumble of salt. For fucking seriously, UH? It's mind boggling because it had been in the mid 40s earlier in the day and it was above freezing when I was out running which any reasonable person can deduce that the presence of frozen ice means that at no point in the recent days had the city bothered to salt the sidewalks. That ice had been there for days, if not weeks. Iowa City sidewalks: beautiful; Coralville sidewalks: fucking beautiful; University Heights: downright shameful.

And on a serious note...

I woke up 20 minutes before my alarm this morning with a raging headache. Not to tout myself as being special or anything, but I'm not allowed to have headaches. A headache for me is not just another bump in the road, it's not something I can shrug my shoulders at, pop some Tylenol and move on with my day. It's kind of a BFD.

My headaches are usually followed by an appointment with my neurologist. And then the flood of questions. It gets super personal super quickly, I have to know my stuff inside and out. What I've eaten, what I drink and how often, the times at which I've taken my meds, stress patterns, any recent changes in my schedule, how often I go to the bathroom (and what happens in the bathroom)... that's just the start. The saddest part about my condition is that I can't get a headache like everyone else. I can't chalk it up to stress and go about as usual. I'm not exactly sure what this morning's headache means, but I can tell you that it's gone. I'm still worried.

On a final happier note, I love my city. I spend a lot of time defending Iowa to outsiders, people who think we're country bumpkins living in fields of corn [true story, I have never been in a corn field]. I've never lived anywhere except for cities (Des Moines, the capital, and Iowa City, a decent size college down) butttttt... I have to admit something totally cringe worthy. I love that there are places not far from where I live where there are no street lights. A little farther out from that, there are no sidewalks. And a tiny stretch beyond that, there's no traffic. You can run down the middle of the road for miles and not have to worry about a car coming by. No one is lurking in the shadows waiting to attack you or rob you, we're just a bunch of happy people living our lives peacefully. Out in the country. Surrounded by corn.

i know it's gonna be.

217.5!

I know I've been here before, but it feels so damn good to know that I've found something that works.

I've been fighting Spark People since I joined because I thought the food tracker was ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS. Normal people don't have time for that.

I took a deep breath and a few days of patience to figure out that I buy the same things at the grocery store, without fail. I can narrow down my meals to individual food items even down to the brand. I don't buy into sales prices or coupons or strategic product placements; I buy the same things every time. With that in mind, I've been adding items to my Favorites in my food tracker and slowly I've built a "virtual pantry" that matches entirely with what I actually eat. A few days of work and suddenly things got a lot easier.

Since joining I've lost 2.5 pounds. It doesn't sound like much, but that's 5% of my total goal.

throw your hands up at me.

I gave a detailed breakdown of my weekend which was out of character for this blog, but the purpose was a demonstration to myself to see exactly how important routine is to the weight loss process. It's Tuesday, I have been back in the comfort of my own home for 48 hours now, and STILL I am dealing with the disruptions from this weekend.

I can't stop going out of town. I can't put my life on hold while I lose my final 50. I have been through this before and I can tell you, it's not worth it. I need to still be able to live my life normally, I can't decline social invitations, I can't shut myself in while I starve and exercise myself into a smaller body.

I have to learn how to do both.

There has been a lot of talk on routine lately because I know that the next few months will be anything but ordinary.

Next week: Milwaukee
Spring break: Las Vegas
Saturdays in March/April: weekend HR certification classes

Plus all the things that have yet to be planned. Something always comes up. ALWAYS.

The good news is that the weather is finally cooperating. I woke up to check the weather forecast for the week and found nothing but sunshine and happiness. 37, 37, 36, 36, 43 on Saturday. And with that, it looks like I have a week of long runs scheduled.

when it's all over please get up and leave.

Thoughts on this weekend:

Boyfriend and I spent the weekend with my family in Des Moines. I had gotten him a pair of tickets for the Book of Mormon for his birthday and our show was on Friday night. I knew even before we got home that this weekend was going to be a challenge in eating right (no offense to my parents, but there is a REASON I was fat in the first place) so we took some steps on Friday morning to mitigate the damages: it set us back an hour, but I insisted on going to the gym Friday afternoon. The worst part about traveling is coming home and realizing how out-of-whack you are. BAD NEWS BEARS. Also, can we please take a minute to Internet high-five me? Boyfriend wanted to get burritos from our favorite Mexican place for lunch on Friday and I said no. It took every bit of strength I had to resist the temptation but I did it, I beat my food cravings. Go me.

Eating at my parents' place was extremely difficult, however. They're super busy people and they hadn't had a chance to go grocery shopping this week so we arrived to a house completely devoid of vegetables. Friday night we had takeout, and thanks to the rush we encountered getting to the Civic Center for our show, we didn't have much time to linger over our plates. Appropriate serving sizes for the win! We went to the show and went straight home to bed afterwards, and that was our Friday [The Book of Mormon was FANTASTIC, by the way].

Go see it!

On Saturday morning my momma very sweetly made us breakfast, but I almost died to find eggs, beans, and sausage on the table. Protein, protein, protein, and piles of fat. I don't know what my parents thing they're doing, but some green leafy shit every once in a while would be nice (I did appreciate the beans though, yay fiber). I found the only piece of fruit in the house (an orange) and ate it with my breakfast to curb the amount of bad stuff I could eat and it worked, crisis averted. I had expected to spend the weekend lounging around (which is why I insisted on gymming on Friday) so it was a nice surprise to have my mom ask me to help paint the newly renovated basement. We spent all afternoon painting two rooms and a hallway and the experience was an eye opener. I am SO glad I've taken the time over the last couple of years to get in shape because it helps, IT TOTALLY HELPS, in even the most unexpected ways. My mom and my brother were pooped after painting the first room and had to take frequent breaks after that, but I kept going. My arms never got tired, my energy level never dropped, plus I learned that I'm small and flexible enough to fit inside a storage cubby (a happy thing, despite the fact that I had to paint said storage cubby). For dinner we had brisket and potato salad, and I was actually happy to see protein and carbs on the table because I definitely needed it after that workout.

I don't know what I was thinking on Sunday morning, but I totally gorged myself on eggs, potatoes, and meat at breakfast. At the time I was totally aware of what I was doing, but I can't even begin to rationalize it now. My bad. We stayed with my parents until late afternoon (I was playing with my nephew, I didn't want to leave his chubby little cheeks!) but then headed back home for the Super Bowl. It's not that we wanted to watch the game, we just needed a few hours at the end of the night to re-acclimate ourselves to our normal life.

A few things on the Super Bowl:
- Saying "the Ravens won" tastes sooooo bad in my mouth. Can't even say the words. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME. It hurts my Steelers-lovin' soul to say it out loud, so I'm just going to pretend both teams lost.
- I am not a Beyoncé fan so it goes without saying that I was not excited about the halftime show. The nicest thing I have to say is that her ass looked fantastic. BUT OMG DESTINY'S CHILD. I knew they were gonna be there, but color-me-disappointed I was really hoping for some "Say My Name" action. Quelle dommage.
- Football's over. THANK GOODNESS. Baseball is still a ways off. If only the hockey lockout had continued, I could have been a very happy girl this morning. But nooooooo. Screw you, NHL.

The lesson from this weekend is that traveling is hard on weight loss. I ate too much yesterday. I feel so sluggish today. We're going to Milwaukee in two weeks. I don't want to go to the gym tonight. I miss running outdoors. This weather sucks. I'm just rambling now.