I am trying an new plan. Not really, just more of a strict version of the old. I better lose more than 2 pounds a week though. I'd need a steady 3 to stick with this / keep my motivation and will power up.
Of course, since I am losing NOTHING, maybe I should be happy with 2.
I'm wondering if this has to do with quitting smoking -- that I can't seem to lose it. I don't know.
Anyway, my new plan is.......ketosis.
Before anyone panics, all that means is your body is using stored fat for energy. You have to deprive it of carbs (its usual energy source) and eat enough protein that its not turning to muscle. Most low carb diets have this in mind, BUT many of them don't go low enough or if you give yourself a carb treat even one day a week, you can defeat the whole purpose -- what I believe has been happening to me.
It takes several hours to up to 3 days to enter Ketosis, so
Friday night, Pizza, I exit Ketosis, I don't resume low carb diet till Monday.
By Wednesday or Thursday, I enter Ketosis, and less then 2 days later, it's Friday night and I exit again.
So....I will be eating no carbs this weekend. That will be hard. The only way I will be able to do this for 2 months and 17 days if is if I am losing 3 pounds a week. Once I get out of the 150's, I will be much more motivated as well. DH first met me at 147. My goal is AT LEAST 137 by wedding, though I am really hoping for 127 (hey, the camera adds 10 pounds). The weight I hope to be able to maintain is 137. (I'd love to maintain 127, I just don't think I can get my body to naturally maintain that.)
As for health risks / isn't Ketosis dangerous, etc., etc. -- No. Well, if you're diabetic you could run into some problems. But no, not really. There's alot of confusion surrounding it, but ketosis just means your body is producing more ketones than normal and those that it doesn't need it expels as waste, through urine and breath.
So....off to the stone for some breath mints and ketostix (50 sticks for $15, you pee on it and if it turns purple, you are in Ketosis. Seeing that little stick is going to help me over the weekend say no to all carbs*).
I really, REALLY hope I lose more than 2 pounds a week. 2 pounds is what a normal diet and exercise is supposed to do. I would hate to forgo ALL sugar and all drinking and all breads and past and pizza just to lose the same as what normal people on normal diets lose. *sigh*
*One must stay under 30 carbs to enter Ketosis, during the week I eat under 20; over the weekend I will stay under 30 and check with the Ketostix to ensure I am not eating too much.
PS -- I just remembered it's my birthday tomorrow and friday night me, DH and whole bunch of friends are going to outback, my favorite restaurant, where I am getting coconut shrimp, bloomin onion, cocktails, and dessert. *sigh*.
Ok, AFTER that, I will not be eating carbs until goal weight.
%^$#%&%
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Wedding Plans Moving Ahead
I am so excited.
Try pulling an elegant Wedding off for $2000 in 2 months and 17 days.
[The picture is of an engagement ring set inside the wedding band.]
The only thing I am waiting on before sending out invitations is for the Venue to get back to me. I called a million times yesterday but no answer and even left messages saying "I want to give you money!" Actually, I just said I want to put down a deposit, I do realize they probably don't want their beautiful mansion overtaken by a psycho.
But anyway....I stripped all my grand ideas and plans down to what I really wanted which is the photographer and the setting. I found a photographer. And I am stunned. I was really thinking I wouldn't find what I wanted for under $1000, but I did. I am so excited. I love her work. She has very similar vision as I (I'm a semi-professional wedding and portrait photographer), and I am so confident to have her shoot my wedding.
Second is the beautiful stone mansion (hereafter referred to as the castle) I wanted to get married at the first moment I saw it. Outside a authentic castle in Europe, I've not seen anything as beautiful as this.
I am going to be a princess for a day, and have the photographs to remember it for always. :)
If the mansion/castle doesn't have the date I'm looking for (the year anniversary of when we first met-in-person), I will book it on a random Friday. I'd say earlier but I probably won't be at goal, so I guess later, but hopefully not so late the leaves turn. I want the garden lush and green.
Oh, and after 4 hours of searching, I found the ring. Woo-hoo. That is not to say, it only took 4 hours. It's taken months, but then took 4 hours on Internet searching for the same one 50% less. :)
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Movies and Nudity
Before I rant, I really, really hope that I am not the only one who feels this way. I guess it doesn't really matter, but if I'm the only one, then it is my problem, my fault, my issue, and I should just get over it, live with it, deal with it, move on, not let it bother me, etc.
Anyway...
An actual terror comes over me at the thought of going to see or renting an R-rated movie, (or even some Pg-13 movies), with my significant other, if I know it has an actress in it who flaunts her body, or is playing a character that flaunts her body, and obviously worse, if she is naked.
Esp when the only point is for the male audience to be lusting after her. The more she takes off, the uglier I become. Shame overflows me and I spend the rest of the movie hating myself, feeling absolutely ugly, and mentally planning how not to eat for the next several months or berating myself for what I’ve already eaten that day/week/month and how I am the only one to blame for not being beautiful / not achieving my ideal weight.
I don't need to see some random guys dick to call something pornography. If she's naked, and breathing heavy, in the throes of passion, acting all orgasmic, it's pornography. And not only would I not want my significant other watching porn, I definitely don't want to be sitting right there next to him while he does.
My things become bigger and bigger, and the humongous fat between the upper area such an ugly, blubbery mass of ugliness. My arms are huge, my things are huge, my butt is disgusting, and, if that wasn't enough, my stomach is so disfigured from my pregnancy when I was 19 that even when....IF.....I reach goal, there is no chance at my being completely free or sexy without hiding.
I say IF since my body seems to REFUSE to lose weight even though it's scientifically and mathematically impossible. (I burned 800 calories at the gym today, stayed on the elliptical for over an hour). I am contemplating going on a liquid diet, though I don't see the point -- meaning, if I consume 800 calories (440 of them being from protein to ensure I consume the 110 grams needed to maintain my muscle), what difference does it make if they are liquid or chewable. I would think digesting means you would burn more calories.
I feel like screaming. Inside I am screaming. I feel so freaking, horribly ugly. Actually, I will rephrase that. I don't feel ugly. I know -- mentally -- that I am pretty. I feel so unsexy. So not what any man would want. Sure, i guess they could block out the sight of my stomach, but I just feel that if I was walking around in an outfit trying to be sexy in a room full of model-thin girls, I would be invisible and worth nothing and last choice. And I am so freaking sick of being fat / too heavy to feel sexy or like I have the right to even try to act sexy. I am too fat. There is way too much squishiness for me to act like I am
I think the porn industry is destroying marriages, because if I feel like this at a size 10 at 5'5, I can't even imagine how a soccer mom in a size 12 or 14 or 16 feels, esp if her poor stretched out stomach has seen 2 or 3 kids. And it's not even so much the porn industry, its what Naomi Wolf calls beauty porn -- the "sex sells everything" advertisement that prevails, with every ultra-thin, half-dressed young woman's expression being that of anticipating orgasm. And she notes, that it's not "sex sells" it's that "sexual DISSATISFACTION sells", because if committed men and women, husband and wives were happily fueling their passions into each other, they wouldn't need the product being sold that "promised" it.
With the barrage of underweight, perfect (ie. airbrushed), and fake (ie -- you can't have boobs and have a bf of 17% or less) images thrown at us thousands of times a day that we know our men are also seeing, it's no wonder women come to bed feeling less than, wanting to do it in the dark, or not wanting to do it at all, so he doesn't feel our squishy imperfections.
I will end with this note, also by Naomi Wolf:
If a girl's only window on male sexuality were a stream of easily available, well-lit, cheap images of young men in their late teens/early 20's smiling encouraging and readily cuddly erect the color of roses or mocha, she might well look at, masturbate to, and, as an adult, "need" beauty pornography based on the bodies of men. And if those initiating penises were shown to the girl as pneumatically erectile, swerving neither left nor right, tasting of cinnamon or forest berries, innocent of random hairs, and ever ready; if they were presented alongside their measurements, lengths, and circumference to the quarter inch; if they seemed to be available to her with no troublesome personality attached; if her sweet pleasure seemed to be the only reason for them to exist -- then a real men would probably approach the bed of their lovers with, to say the least, a failing heart.
I wish men would just try to imagine living in a world where the above bombarded from every direction -- commercials, billboards, movies, TV shows, magazine covers, music videos, etc. -- all the while telling them quite clearly that this was the ONLY way they could be worthwhile, be found sexy and attractive, and have any happiness, that is was the sole basis for their self-esteem, that strength, career, status, and prestige (comparable to a girl-smarts, creativity, etc.) was so secondary to their self-worth that it was almost non-existent. I would like THAT man to ever complain again that his wife doesn't initiate it often enough, doesn't like to be touched, or wants to do it in the dark.
Anyway...
An actual terror comes over me at the thought of going to see or renting an R-rated movie, (or even some Pg-13 movies), with my significant other, if I know it has an actress in it who flaunts her body, or is playing a character that flaunts her body, and obviously worse, if she is naked.
Esp when the only point is for the male audience to be lusting after her. The more she takes off, the uglier I become. Shame overflows me and I spend the rest of the movie hating myself, feeling absolutely ugly, and mentally planning how not to eat for the next several months or berating myself for what I’ve already eaten that day/week/month and how I am the only one to blame for not being beautiful / not achieving my ideal weight.
I don't need to see some random guys dick to call something pornography. If she's naked, and breathing heavy, in the throes of passion, acting all orgasmic, it's pornography. And not only would I not want my significant other watching porn, I definitely don't want to be sitting right there next to him while he does.
My things become bigger and bigger, and the humongous fat between the upper area such an ugly, blubbery mass of ugliness. My arms are huge, my things are huge, my butt is disgusting, and, if that wasn't enough, my stomach is so disfigured from my pregnancy when I was 19 that even when....IF.....I reach goal, there is no chance at my being completely free or sexy without hiding.
I say IF since my body seems to REFUSE to lose weight even though it's scientifically and mathematically impossible. (I burned 800 calories at the gym today, stayed on the elliptical for over an hour). I am contemplating going on a liquid diet, though I don't see the point -- meaning, if I consume 800 calories (440 of them being from protein to ensure I consume the 110 grams needed to maintain my muscle), what difference does it make if they are liquid or chewable. I would think digesting means you would burn more calories.
I feel like screaming. Inside I am screaming. I feel so freaking, horribly ugly. Actually, I will rephrase that. I don't feel ugly. I know -- mentally -- that I am pretty. I feel so unsexy. So not what any man would want. Sure, i guess they could block out the sight of my stomach, but I just feel that if I was walking around in an outfit trying to be sexy in a room full of model-thin girls, I would be invisible and worth nothing and last choice. And I am so freaking sick of being fat / too heavy to feel sexy or like I have the right to even try to act sexy. I am too fat. There is way too much squishiness for me to act like I am
I think the porn industry is destroying marriages, because if I feel like this at a size 10 at 5'5, I can't even imagine how a soccer mom in a size 12 or 14 or 16 feels, esp if her poor stretched out stomach has seen 2 or 3 kids. And it's not even so much the porn industry, its what Naomi Wolf calls beauty porn -- the "sex sells everything" advertisement that prevails, with every ultra-thin, half-dressed young woman's expression being that of anticipating orgasm. And she notes, that it's not "sex sells" it's that "sexual DISSATISFACTION sells", because if committed men and women, husband and wives were happily fueling their passions into each other, they wouldn't need the product being sold that "promised" it.
With the barrage of underweight, perfect (ie. airbrushed), and fake (ie -- you can't have boobs and have a bf of 17% or less) images thrown at us thousands of times a day that we know our men are also seeing, it's no wonder women come to bed feeling less than, wanting to do it in the dark, or not wanting to do it at all, so he doesn't feel our squishy imperfections.
I will end with this note, also by Naomi Wolf:
If a girl's only window on male sexuality were a stream of easily available, well-lit, cheap images of young men in their late teens/early 20's smiling encouraging and readily cuddly erect the color of roses or mocha, she might well look at, masturbate to, and, as an adult, "need" beauty pornography based on the bodies of men. And if those initiating penises were shown to the girl as pneumatically erectile, swerving neither left nor right, tasting of cinnamon or forest berries, innocent of random hairs, and ever ready; if they were presented alongside their measurements, lengths, and circumference to the quarter inch; if they seemed to be available to her with no troublesome personality attached; if her sweet pleasure seemed to be the only reason for them to exist -- then a real men would probably approach the bed of their lovers with, to say the least, a failing heart.
I wish men would just try to imagine living in a world where the above bombarded from every direction -- commercials, billboards, movies, TV shows, magazine covers, music videos, etc. -- all the while telling them quite clearly that this was the ONLY way they could be worthwhile, be found sexy and attractive, and have any happiness, that is was the sole basis for their self-esteem, that strength, career, status, and prestige (comparable to a girl-smarts, creativity, etc.) was so secondary to their self-worth that it was almost non-existent. I would like THAT man to ever complain again that his wife doesn't initiate it often enough, doesn't like to be touched, or wants to do it in the dark.
Weigh-in
I weighed in Friday morning (my usual weigh-in day) and lost .2 pounds. Point Two.
This is despite the fact that I created a calorie deficit of 1750 on Thursday, 1000 in my eating and 750 in exercise. (Ate 1000 less than needed to maintain my weight, burned off 750 calories by 2 miles on elliptical, 3+ miles on the treadmill, and 18 minutes of high-impact Jillian Michaels Cardio DVD).
Mathematically, scientifically, whatever you want to call it, I created enough of a deficiency to have lost 1/2 a pound Thursday. 1/2 a pound just on Thursday, let alone that i worked out Wednesday and stuck to my diet all week.
And, unless I decide to elope, which would devastate me, there is no way in heck I can afford to get married in September. My stripped down list of cost and 35 guest list amounts to $4500 and we have $800 and can only realistically save $100 a week, which would bring us to March.
It's already hard enough living together and not having sex, I don't really feel like waiting another 6 months, though that would make it exactly 5 years since I last had sex.
I am so heartbroken right now, on top of feeling so ridiculously ugly. I want to scream and rage. I want to claw the fat off my body. I can't articulate well how I feel right now. I hope I am not the only normal weighted person who feels this way. I hate being alone....with my self-hatred and frustrations and self-consciousness.
This is despite the fact that I created a calorie deficit of 1750 on Thursday, 1000 in my eating and 750 in exercise. (Ate 1000 less than needed to maintain my weight, burned off 750 calories by 2 miles on elliptical, 3+ miles on the treadmill, and 18 minutes of high-impact Jillian Michaels Cardio DVD).
Mathematically, scientifically, whatever you want to call it, I created enough of a deficiency to have lost 1/2 a pound Thursday. 1/2 a pound just on Thursday, let alone that i worked out Wednesday and stuck to my diet all week.
And, unless I decide to elope, which would devastate me, there is no way in heck I can afford to get married in September. My stripped down list of cost and 35 guest list amounts to $4500 and we have $800 and can only realistically save $100 a week, which would bring us to March.
It's already hard enough living together and not having sex, I don't really feel like waiting another 6 months, though that would make it exactly 5 years since I last had sex.
I am so heartbroken right now, on top of feeling so ridiculously ugly. I want to scream and rage. I want to claw the fat off my body. I can't articulate well how I feel right now. I hope I am not the only normal weighted person who feels this way. I hate being alone....with my self-hatred and frustrations and self-consciousness.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Blogging instead of Running
Yup. Instead of running / going to the gym, or even packing for that matter (NOTHING is packed), I sit at my computer and blog as though there are people out there who actually care about whether or not I did my workout, what my wedding plans are, etc.
*sigh*
I think it's the whole concept of feeling like maybe you're not alone. maybe there are people out there who can totally relate and you don't have to keep everything all bottle up inside. I wish I had a girlfriend, a real, live bonifide girlfriend. I have two friends I met within the last year and a half -- girls from my church. We occasionally get together and do stuff, (one of whom tricked me into trying on a wedding dress), but we are not close enough to be really real with, if you know what I mean. I don't feel at all comfortable opening up to the one (she just repeats everything, or talks about the personal stuff you shared with her to you in a room full of people at regular volume. I can't believe how many times she's done this!) Anyway, the other one, is very closed up and withdrawn and refuses to open up to me, though she is the one I know I could trust and open up to, but it not being mutual makes for a very difficult close relationship.
I moved alot as a child, and never went to school, so though I had the occasional playmate (if we were living in a neighborhood), I never had any friends. Back then they were all guy friends anyway, cuz I was such a tomboy. I had a boy's bike (I would never ride a sissy, banana seat bike; I wanted the blue and black BMX that the boy rode standing up, with one foot on steering and one on seat!). And I got, lol. For my 7th birthday. I was so short I had to stick it in the street while I stood on the curb just to get on.
Anyway, my family was....strange. I don't want to divulge too much, but it was very cult-like. I wasn't really allowed to have friends, one of many reasons I wasn't allowed to go to school. And because of the abuse by my father (not sexual, but very hard to explain -- it was emotional and psychological and if there was ever a list called: How to destroy your daughter's self-esteem and make her feel absolutely worthless, and never be good enough or deserve love, teach her she must earn forgiveness for even the slightest flaw and even then will have any past mistakes thrown in her face to prove her worthlessness so that she lives life almost 2 decades later so full of shame at even the slightest mistake and often feeling like she doesn't deserve to exist because she isn't good enough/earned the right to....if there was such a list, my father followed it to a T for 31/2 years (from 14 to 17 when I got married and ran away, the first time).
Anyway, I have very little social skills and often feel very socially awkward. I run and hide anytime I see someone I know in a store because 1) I am ashamed at how ugly I look, and 2) I have no idea what to say and just stammer and look stupid after I manage a weak "hi". So as you can see, a very shy and withdrawn person who is terrified of meeting new people would have much difficulty making friends. *sigh*
Now that is not so say I am not better now. I am. My DF has an ex who was anti-social, abusive, broke up every friendship he had, and isolated him from his parents. When I visited/met them last Christmas and some old friends of his came over I noticed there were all outside (the friends) in the snow. He was out there too, and so I just grabbed my coat and told his mom I was going out to introduce myself / let myself be introduced. She was almost in tears, so happy that he was with a "normal" person. And I did, with no fear of shame, etc. I am very secure in his love for me (and I've never been that way any other man before) and am not fearful to meet new people. That however, doesn't mean I suddenly know how to be a social butterfly, or make friends, or get people (who have a million friends already) to not only add me to their friend list, but want me to be their best friend. Most people's best friends stem form childhood, high school, or college. I had none of those experiences.
But anyway, I do have alot of acquaintances now, because I will just walk up to people and say hi. I find so often that I look at people (especially thin, beautiful girls) like they are not a real person. They are perfect and their very existence makes it very clear that I am worthless. I have found however, that if I say something, anything, and they respond, it often shows me that they are a person. And probably a nice person. And probably have problems of their own (though most likely not looming homelessness). And that they feel not good enough or not pretty enough or at least have bad mirror days too.
The other day there was this girl on the treadmill beside me. Pretty face, thin. Probably a size 4, maybe 6 (I didn't stare that long). I started feeling so fat as I ran beside her. She ran a full mile straight (quite impressive) where as I walk/run/walk for 3 miles. I tried to ignore the feelings of shame creeping up, tried to buy myself in my Koontz book. For the most part, she never looked at me, I never looked at her. She was very focused, I was trying very hard to be focused. But the point is, when she finished her mile, she was breathless and cooling down and I noticed she was in long sleeves. I looked straight at her and said, "Aren't you hot?"
She took her ipod earpiece out and I repeated myself and she gave a half laugh and said yes but she wanted to sweat it out. She went back to her workout and I went back to mine, but in that instant she was no longer this perfect model-lookalike who was everything I wasn't. She was just a person. She was human. Sure she was thinner than me, but she was just a girl, a girl trying to find her way in this world as much as I was.
That probably makes no sense. And I have just spent the last 45 minutes writing my third blog post of the day and even if I want to sit here and imagine that the whole world, or even just a handful of girls, are out there hinging on every word I write and can't wait to see what else happens in the drama of my life, I will never get thin or fit into my wedding dress by sitting on my butt and blogging. So I must go, and hopefully workout.
Wish me luck!
*sigh*
I think it's the whole concept of feeling like maybe you're not alone. maybe there are people out there who can totally relate and you don't have to keep everything all bottle up inside. I wish I had a girlfriend, a real, live bonifide girlfriend. I have two friends I met within the last year and a half -- girls from my church. We occasionally get together and do stuff, (one of whom tricked me into trying on a wedding dress), but we are not close enough to be really real with, if you know what I mean. I don't feel at all comfortable opening up to the one (she just repeats everything, or talks about the personal stuff you shared with her to you in a room full of people at regular volume. I can't believe how many times she's done this!) Anyway, the other one, is very closed up and withdrawn and refuses to open up to me, though she is the one I know I could trust and open up to, but it not being mutual makes for a very difficult close relationship.
I moved alot as a child, and never went to school, so though I had the occasional playmate (if we were living in a neighborhood), I never had any friends. Back then they were all guy friends anyway, cuz I was such a tomboy. I had a boy's bike (I would never ride a sissy, banana seat bike; I wanted the blue and black BMX that the boy rode standing up, with one foot on steering and one on seat!). And I got, lol. For my 7th birthday. I was so short I had to stick it in the street while I stood on the curb just to get on.
Anyway, my family was....strange. I don't want to divulge too much, but it was very cult-like. I wasn't really allowed to have friends, one of many reasons I wasn't allowed to go to school. And because of the abuse by my father (not sexual, but very hard to explain -- it was emotional and psychological and if there was ever a list called: How to destroy your daughter's self-esteem and make her feel absolutely worthless, and never be good enough or deserve love, teach her she must earn forgiveness for even the slightest flaw and even then will have any past mistakes thrown in her face to prove her worthlessness so that she lives life almost 2 decades later so full of shame at even the slightest mistake and often feeling like she doesn't deserve to exist because she isn't good enough/earned the right to....if there was such a list, my father followed it to a T for 31/2 years (from 14 to 17 when I got married and ran away, the first time).
Anyway, I have very little social skills and often feel very socially awkward. I run and hide anytime I see someone I know in a store because 1) I am ashamed at how ugly I look, and 2) I have no idea what to say and just stammer and look stupid after I manage a weak "hi". So as you can see, a very shy and withdrawn person who is terrified of meeting new people would have much difficulty making friends. *sigh*
Now that is not so say I am not better now. I am. My DF has an ex who was anti-social, abusive, broke up every friendship he had, and isolated him from his parents. When I visited/met them last Christmas and some old friends of his came over I noticed there were all outside (the friends) in the snow. He was out there too, and so I just grabbed my coat and told his mom I was going out to introduce myself / let myself be introduced. She was almost in tears, so happy that he was with a "normal" person. And I did, with no fear of shame, etc. I am very secure in his love for me (and I've never been that way any other man before) and am not fearful to meet new people. That however, doesn't mean I suddenly know how to be a social butterfly, or make friends, or get people (who have a million friends already) to not only add me to their friend list, but want me to be their best friend. Most people's best friends stem form childhood, high school, or college. I had none of those experiences.
But anyway, I do have alot of acquaintances now, because I will just walk up to people and say hi. I find so often that I look at people (especially thin, beautiful girls) like they are not a real person. They are perfect and their very existence makes it very clear that I am worthless. I have found however, that if I say something, anything, and they respond, it often shows me that they are a person. And probably a nice person. And probably have problems of their own (though most likely not looming homelessness). And that they feel not good enough or not pretty enough or at least have bad mirror days too.
The other day there was this girl on the treadmill beside me. Pretty face, thin. Probably a size 4, maybe 6 (I didn't stare that long). I started feeling so fat as I ran beside her. She ran a full mile straight (quite impressive) where as I walk/run/walk for 3 miles. I tried to ignore the feelings of shame creeping up, tried to buy myself in my Koontz book. For the most part, she never looked at me, I never looked at her. She was very focused, I was trying very hard to be focused. But the point is, when she finished her mile, she was breathless and cooling down and I noticed she was in long sleeves. I looked straight at her and said, "Aren't you hot?"
She took her ipod earpiece out and I repeated myself and she gave a half laugh and said yes but she wanted to sweat it out. She went back to her workout and I went back to mine, but in that instant she was no longer this perfect model-lookalike who was everything I wasn't. She was just a person. She was human. Sure she was thinner than me, but she was just a girl, a girl trying to find her way in this world as much as I was.
That probably makes no sense. And I have just spent the last 45 minutes writing my third blog post of the day and even if I want to sit here and imagine that the whole world, or even just a handful of girls, are out there hinging on every word I write and can't wait to see what else happens in the drama of my life, I will never get thin or fit into my wedding dress by sitting on my butt and blogging. So I must go, and hopefully workout.
Wish me luck!
Unofficial Wedding Plans -- Part 2
....because of the dress.
Yes, the one and only thing official about this wedding thus far, is that I have the dress.
And it's gorgeous. (As gorgeous as a size 10 dress could be, but I'll never get my ribs in something smaller anyway). And best of all, it's almost medieval fantasy.
This is the story of how I got my dress.
Last year, a month after finally meeting my boyfriend in person (we met online in a Christian fantasy writers forum), my girlfriends and I went to David's just to look around. Well, the one girl decided to trick me into trying on a dress. She acted like she wanted to try one on, but wouldn't if I didn't do it too, made me go first, and all along never had any intention of doing so.
But anyway, here's the thing: I was NEVER going to buy a dress from David's. I had already collected business cards from designers at the Renaissance Faire and was going to have a dress custom made for me, like a white, pouffy version of something Arwen would wear.
I felt very guilty taking up the salesperson's time as I tried to explain that I wanted something medieval/fantasy-style. She told me the only that was even remotely similar was this ballroom style gown with a lace coat. I took one look at it (in the bag) and said, that's not what I'm talking about.
This is when my girlfriend stepped in and pulled her trick.
So I find myself in the dressing room, being buttoned into a size 34D corset (i was thinner last year, lost weight to meet my boyfriend), then this dress (off-white, btw) pulled over my head. Finally, I step out and my girlfriends gasp. The one starts tearing up and says, you look like Cinderella.
I looked in the mirror and I swear, I have NEVER felt as beautiful in my entire life. I was shocked. I've never had such a pronounced waist or a flat stomach since giving birth to my son at 19 -- of course all that was the corset, but at that lower weight, the corset took away what would have jumped out at me as ugliness and I was able to see the rest of me, the whole of me, and see the beauty of the gown, the medieval flair it had (as the salesperson said).
Now, I had almost no money in the bank. I have no credit cards. And I even reiterated to the sales lady that I was having one custom made from the Renn Faire. But she is in full sales-lady mode and says, just let me go see if it's on sale (from $600), writes the barcode numbers down and walks away. Uh-huh. I am flat broke. I'm reminding myself of this. That I have no money. That I want one fully medieval (which was going to cost about $2000 and I have no idea where that money would magically appear from). She comes back and takes the tag directly from the dress, saying "I must have written the numbers down wrong, it says it's only $100. I laughed and said, if it's $100 I will buy it.
She returned a few moments later and said, you have yourself a wedding dress.
My jaw hit the floor. I looked in the mirror. I drank in the feeling of feeling beautiful. A simple alteration to the sleeves of the lace coat could make it as medieval as I needed it to be, and there was probably no chance in hell I would ever have $2000 anyway.
The she informs me that it's the last dress they have and it's discontinued (thus the low price).
Just then, boyfriend calls and asks what I'm doing. I hesitantly tell him, wondering if he'd be typical guy (met girl in person, a month later she's trying on wedding gowns). He asked if I liked it, I told him I never felt so beautiful in my life. He said: Buy it.
And so, that is the story of how I got my dress.
However....I weighed somewhere between 149 and 155 at that time. The dress fit fairly well except that I was hanging over the top (it's strapless. My chest and fat was squeezed up and out. I figure it was only about 10 pounds that needed losing, and if I lost more, I would just have the waist taken in. Alas, I now weigh 158.8. In the very least, I HAVE to lose 20 pounds in 2 months and 23 days or the one thing I actually have official for this wedding, I won't have at all. I feel as though all my dreams of feeling like a princess hang on this Cinderella-dress.
My waist does not do that in real life, one of the reasons I felt so beautiful. An idea I have for the sleeves is to alter them so that they are the long flowing sleeves like Arewn has in LOTR.
Was 150 in these pictures, am now 160. And at that time, I needed to lose another 10 to fit properly (I don't think it could be buttoned all the way up in the back). In the full length one, you can see alittle bit how much I am spilling out over the top, but the coat and my hair help cover. At the wedding though, I want to be able to take the coat off during the reception and don't want to have to hope my hair is always covering my fat. I want to be confident. I don't want to hide from the camera, or alter, tug, or fix before every picture. I want to be free and know I am beautiful and just smile and enjoy my day being a princess.
Yes, the one and only thing official about this wedding thus far, is that I have the dress.
And it's gorgeous. (As gorgeous as a size 10 dress could be, but I'll never get my ribs in something smaller anyway). And best of all, it's almost medieval fantasy.
This is the story of how I got my dress.
Last year, a month after finally meeting my boyfriend in person (we met online in a Christian fantasy writers forum), my girlfriends and I went to David's just to look around. Well, the one girl decided to trick me into trying on a dress. She acted like she wanted to try one on, but wouldn't if I didn't do it too, made me go first, and all along never had any intention of doing so.
But anyway, here's the thing: I was NEVER going to buy a dress from David's. I had already collected business cards from designers at the Renaissance Faire and was going to have a dress custom made for me, like a white, pouffy version of something Arwen would wear.
I felt very guilty taking up the salesperson's time as I tried to explain that I wanted something medieval/fantasy-style. She told me the only that was even remotely similar was this ballroom style gown with a lace coat. I took one look at it (in the bag) and said, that's not what I'm talking about.
This is when my girlfriend stepped in and pulled her trick.
So I find myself in the dressing room, being buttoned into a size 34D corset (i was thinner last year, lost weight to meet my boyfriend), then this dress (off-white, btw) pulled over my head. Finally, I step out and my girlfriends gasp. The one starts tearing up and says, you look like Cinderella.
I looked in the mirror and I swear, I have NEVER felt as beautiful in my entire life. I was shocked. I've never had such a pronounced waist or a flat stomach since giving birth to my son at 19 -- of course all that was the corset, but at that lower weight, the corset took away what would have jumped out at me as ugliness and I was able to see the rest of me, the whole of me, and see the beauty of the gown, the medieval flair it had (as the salesperson said).
Now, I had almost no money in the bank. I have no credit cards. And I even reiterated to the sales lady that I was having one custom made from the Renn Faire. But she is in full sales-lady mode and says, just let me go see if it's on sale (from $600), writes the barcode numbers down and walks away. Uh-huh. I am flat broke. I'm reminding myself of this. That I have no money. That I want one fully medieval (which was going to cost about $2000 and I have no idea where that money would magically appear from). She comes back and takes the tag directly from the dress, saying "I must have written the numbers down wrong, it says it's only $100. I laughed and said, if it's $100 I will buy it.
She returned a few moments later and said, you have yourself a wedding dress.
My jaw hit the floor. I looked in the mirror. I drank in the feeling of feeling beautiful. A simple alteration to the sleeves of the lace coat could make it as medieval as I needed it to be, and there was probably no chance in hell I would ever have $2000 anyway.
The she informs me that it's the last dress they have and it's discontinued (thus the low price).
Just then, boyfriend calls and asks what I'm doing. I hesitantly tell him, wondering if he'd be typical guy (met girl in person, a month later she's trying on wedding gowns). He asked if I liked it, I told him I never felt so beautiful in my life. He said: Buy it.
And so, that is the story of how I got my dress.
However....I weighed somewhere between 149 and 155 at that time. The dress fit fairly well except that I was hanging over the top (it's strapless. My chest and fat was squeezed up and out. I figure it was only about 10 pounds that needed losing, and if I lost more, I would just have the waist taken in. Alas, I now weigh 158.8. In the very least, I HAVE to lose 20 pounds in 2 months and 23 days or the one thing I actually have official for this wedding, I won't have at all. I feel as though all my dreams of feeling like a princess hang on this Cinderella-dress.
My waist does not do that in real life, one of the reasons I felt so beautiful. An idea I have for the sleeves is to alter them so that they are the long flowing sleeves like Arewn has in LOTR.
Was 150 in these pictures, am now 160. And at that time, I needed to lose another 10 to fit properly (I don't think it could be buttoned all the way up in the back). In the full length one, you can see alittle bit how much I am spilling out over the top, but the coat and my hair help cover. At the wedding though, I want to be able to take the coat off during the reception and don't want to have to hope my hair is always covering my fat. I want to be confident. I don't want to hide from the camera, or alter, tug, or fix before every picture. I want to be free and know I am beautiful and just smile and enjoy my day being a princess.
Unofficial Wedding Plans -- Part 1
2 months, 23 days till my wedding.
Mind you, a wedding that has absolutely no deposits set down, no officiates notified, etc. I know where I want it to take place, (a stone castle-looking mansion, with includes the beautiful low-stone walled gardens, the main ballroom for the reception, and this gorgeous, Victorian-styled sitting room with full length mirrors, makeup tables, a fireplace, etc.
I attend a very contemporary church, not much in the way of looks as far as beautiful, Gothic architecture, etc. so I am probably just renting an altar for communion and a cross. My plan is to set up an area of the ballroom as a sanctuary where we will say our vows. I will decorate the cross with white roses and ribbon, and probably have some sort of archway type thing as well, maybe those imitation stone columns.
Because we have no money, I will have to book it for a Friday day (be out by 4pm) and last year they told me that was a highly unusual thing and it probably wouldn't be booked -- it's only 800 for a weekday. Since DF's father is a probitionist, there won't be any drinking (except for wines), so it's not like I would have one of those long into the night, drinking and dancing wedding anyway.
However, I am going to have an after-party. I only thought of this last week (been planning the wedding for a year): bowling.
Ok, it's different, and it's not like I'm good at the game.....but:
There's a bar, so people can drink (of their own accord). There's pizza (my reception will be light Italian fair, so ppl will be hungry by then). And I will buy the first round of lanes, pizza, soda, etc. (low 100's,). And around 10, the lights go down, the colored strobes come out, and it's more like a night club setting.
Not exactly traditional, I realize, but it's the best I can do.
So anyway, other than needing to book the mansion, I need
A caterer. I haven't decided if I'm going to just buy food somewhere and have friends cook it (pay church ppl to cook it, or if I can order out and set up a nice looking buffet, or what. I'd love to hire butlers but don't think that's going t happen, but either way, it's just going to be a light reception, with Italian food (to justify the wine, lol).
A string quartet. Since know one is going to be smashed or doing the chicken, etc and since the original plan was to have a full-fledged, medieval, fantasy fairytale wedding, I am still trying to incorporate some of that in. Thus, I am skipping a DJ (they play the latest dance pop at the bowling alley anyway), and wish to hire a string quartet to play not just the usual waltz's but the themes from many Disney princess movies, particularly Sleeping Beauty and Snow White.
A photographer. This is as important to me as the mansion itself. They go hand in hand. I'm suffered with severe body image issues since I was 14. I feel like I've spent 17 years trying to lose weight and feel good about myself, and I've dreamed about finding my prince, being beautiful, and feeling like a princess. And I want a million different bridal-magazine posed shots. The grounds at this mansion are out-of-this world. You feel like you've stepped back in time, into an English countryside where the Duke of so-and-so lives. Garden after garden, a gazebo, stone galleries and balconies and steps leading from one to the other and trees and a pond and black wrought iron, and if you're not salivating, I'll never be able to explain it. I am tearing up as I type, it's the most beautiful place I've ever seen and IF I can lose the weight, I WILL look like a princess, because........
...see the next post:
Mind you, a wedding that has absolutely no deposits set down, no officiates notified, etc. I know where I want it to take place, (a stone castle-looking mansion, with includes the beautiful low-stone walled gardens, the main ballroom for the reception, and this gorgeous, Victorian-styled sitting room with full length mirrors, makeup tables, a fireplace, etc.
I attend a very contemporary church, not much in the way of looks as far as beautiful, Gothic architecture, etc. so I am probably just renting an altar for communion and a cross. My plan is to set up an area of the ballroom as a sanctuary where we will say our vows. I will decorate the cross with white roses and ribbon, and probably have some sort of archway type thing as well, maybe those imitation stone columns.
Because we have no money, I will have to book it for a Friday day (be out by 4pm) and last year they told me that was a highly unusual thing and it probably wouldn't be booked -- it's only 800 for a weekday. Since DF's father is a probitionist, there won't be any drinking (except for wines), so it's not like I would have one of those long into the night, drinking and dancing wedding anyway.
However, I am going to have an after-party. I only thought of this last week (been planning the wedding for a year): bowling.
Ok, it's different, and it's not like I'm good at the game.....but:
There's a bar, so people can drink (of their own accord). There's pizza (my reception will be light Italian fair, so ppl will be hungry by then). And I will buy the first round of lanes, pizza, soda, etc. (low 100's,). And around 10, the lights go down, the colored strobes come out, and it's more like a night club setting.
Not exactly traditional, I realize, but it's the best I can do.
So anyway, other than needing to book the mansion, I need
A caterer. I haven't decided if I'm going to just buy food somewhere and have friends cook it (pay church ppl to cook it, or if I can order out and set up a nice looking buffet, or what. I'd love to hire butlers but don't think that's going t happen, but either way, it's just going to be a light reception, with Italian food (to justify the wine, lol).
A string quartet. Since know one is going to be smashed or doing the chicken, etc and since the original plan was to have a full-fledged, medieval, fantasy fairytale wedding, I am still trying to incorporate some of that in. Thus, I am skipping a DJ (they play the latest dance pop at the bowling alley anyway), and wish to hire a string quartet to play not just the usual waltz's but the themes from many Disney princess movies, particularly Sleeping Beauty and Snow White.
A photographer. This is as important to me as the mansion itself. They go hand in hand. I'm suffered with severe body image issues since I was 14. I feel like I've spent 17 years trying to lose weight and feel good about myself, and I've dreamed about finding my prince, being beautiful, and feeling like a princess. And I want a million different bridal-magazine posed shots. The grounds at this mansion are out-of-this world. You feel like you've stepped back in time, into an English countryside where the Duke of so-and-so lives. Garden after garden, a gazebo, stone galleries and balconies and steps leading from one to the other and trees and a pond and black wrought iron, and if you're not salivating, I'll never be able to explain it. I am tearing up as I type, it's the most beautiful place I've ever seen and IF I can lose the weight, I WILL look like a princess, because........
...see the next post:
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Extreme Emotional Rollarcoaster
So I'm already panicky about the whole house thing and my mom calls to tell me a friend knows 3 people who were forclosed upon and then evicted without notice and all thier furniture and stuff confiscated. Naturally, this threw me into a panic and called legal aid to find out if that was true. No one was answering thier phones or calling me back, so I smoked 2 cigarettes, trying to stave off the tears, wondering if I would return home from work to find the locks had been changed.
A few hours later, and another cigarette later, I am told that no, I have to be served notice first and that I have about 30 - 60 days before that happens.
*huge sigh of relief*
So.....when I do get home that night, though still emotionally wrung out as though traumatized, I find in my inbox a contract from an agent who wants to represent my book! And she will be pitching it this weekend at a conference! Woo-hoo! Lol, I will be the Christian version of rags-to-riches like JK Rowling.
(ok, maybe that' s dreaming a bit)
But could a day get any more extreme in its highs and lows???
I haven't been to the gym since last thrusday. Hopefully, I will go tonight.
A few hours later, and another cigarette later, I am told that no, I have to be served notice first and that I have about 30 - 60 days before that happens.
*huge sigh of relief*
So.....when I do get home that night, though still emotionally wrung out as though traumatized, I find in my inbox a contract from an agent who wants to represent my book! And she will be pitching it this weekend at a conference! Woo-hoo! Lol, I will be the Christian version of rags-to-riches like JK Rowling.
Homeless, single mom writes best-selling fantasy novel, now lives in castle.
(ok, maybe that' s dreaming a bit)
But could a day get any more extreme in its highs and lows???
I haven't been to the gym since last thrusday. Hopefully, I will go tonight.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Thin by wedding? Fat chance. :(
*sigh*
It's not exactly that I overate this weekend, just that everything I did eat was WAY off my diet. I refuse to get on the scale. I'm sure it says something like 163 or even 165. How the heck do I expect to lose weight, especially the amount I need to lose, if I only eat right 4 days a week.
Grrrrr! I am so conditioned to treat myself (ie. pig out) on the weekends, (which basically worked in my 20's), but alas, not so much 30's.
Ok, so I need to come up with some way of getting myself to stick to diet even on weekends, or at least, only having 1 treat day -- not 2.5 (Friday night through Sunday).
I bought what looks like a very interesting book. It's called Hungry and it's about this women who was a anorexic model and finally said the hell with this, started eating, and became a gorgeous plus-size model. I'm going to read it while on the treadmill. Usually I read Koontz (very easy to stay on treadmill for desired length, sometimes more), but I just started a new one and can't seem to get into it yet.
Also bought a workbook on how to stop emotional eating. Hopefully they cover something in there about reconditioning the belief that weekends = pigout. This is practically my life for the last 17 years:
Workweek -- Diet
Weekend -- Binge
Workweek -- Diet
Weekend -- Binge
Maybe I need to go on a fast. A nice, healthy, V8 fusion juice fast. Even if I only did that till I reached 150/149, at least then I would be fully motivated to push myself. It would be much easier to NOT pig out on the weekends if I was thin. When you're fat, er, attractively squishy, (that's my attempt at being nice to myself, per the body image experts), it's much harder. Then again, when thin, it's like, oh, I can treat myself, I am thin.
WHY CAN'T I GET IT THROUGH MY THICK HEAD THAT "TREAT" DOESN'T EQUATE WITH 3 DAYS OF SPLURGING!?!?!?!
It's not exactly that I overate this weekend, just that everything I did eat was WAY off my diet. I refuse to get on the scale. I'm sure it says something like 163 or even 165. How the heck do I expect to lose weight, especially the amount I need to lose, if I only eat right 4 days a week.
Grrrrr! I am so conditioned to treat myself (ie. pig out) on the weekends, (which basically worked in my 20's), but alas, not so much 30's.
Ok, so I need to come up with some way of getting myself to stick to diet even on weekends, or at least, only having 1 treat day -- not 2.5 (Friday night through Sunday).
I bought what looks like a very interesting book. It's called Hungry and it's about this women who was a anorexic model and finally said the hell with this, started eating, and became a gorgeous plus-size model. I'm going to read it while on the treadmill. Usually I read Koontz (very easy to stay on treadmill for desired length, sometimes more), but I just started a new one and can't seem to get into it yet.
Also bought a workbook on how to stop emotional eating. Hopefully they cover something in there about reconditioning the belief that weekends = pigout. This is practically my life for the last 17 years:
Workweek -- Diet
Weekend -- Binge
Workweek -- Diet
Weekend -- Binge
Maybe I need to go on a fast. A nice, healthy, V8 fusion juice fast. Even if I only did that till I reached 150/149, at least then I would be fully motivated to push myself. It would be much easier to NOT pig out on the weekends if I was thin. When you're fat, er, attractively squishy, (that's my attempt at being nice to myself, per the body image experts), it's much harder. Then again, when thin, it's like, oh, I can treat myself, I am thin.
WHY CAN'T I GET IT THROUGH MY THICK HEAD THAT "TREAT" DOESN'T EQUATE WITH 3 DAYS OF SPLURGING!?!?!?!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Demonic Blood Pressure Machine
Ok, so yesterday was a really bad day, considering the fact that all my attempts to stall the Sheriff's sale was denied, the short sale realtor wouldn't bother faxing the necessary papers over, and legal aid warned me not to file a bankruptcy just as stall tactic, and the mortgage company told me it was possible that the person who bought the house tomorrow could give me a 3-day eviction notice (not only am I not packed, but I have no where to go).
So after making arrangements to have my son go to Maryland with my mom for a few weeks and my cat going to my ex's, with the plan of a getting a storage unit and sleeping in my car (my poor fiance, I have no idea how or why he loves me enough to stay with me for all of this, or even having flown out here and leaving everything behind knowing this is what he was getting himself in for). Anyway....
So I am in wal-mart buying bubble wrap (for my china) and packing tape when I decide to get my blood pressure checked. I innocently sit down at the machine and while the evil suction band of death squeezes the life out of my arm, I read the stuff on the desk-like thing in front of me.
"This machine is calibrated for the average arm measurement of 9-13 inches. If your arm is larger or smaller, you may not receive an accurate reading."
Excuse me????
You're telling me I have larger arms than the average guy????
(Having taken my measurements only just last week, I know for a fact that my arms are 13 1/4 in circumference.)
When I relate all this to DF (dear fiance), he says, so what's the problem, you don't think you got an accurate reading?
?????
Are guys really that clueless?
I try to explain, and he says I'm obsessed, obsessed with diets, obsessed with numbers, obsessed with the way I look. Um, I am a girl, at 26 - 28 % body fat, living in a culture where 10 pounds underweight (17% bf) is screamed at me from every direction as the only way to look sexy, get and keep a man, etc. Where not only I am inundated with images of this so-called perfection but as is he. I am constantly bombarded with the message to compete, compete, compete, and work, work, work to reach an ideal weight. Whether by starvation, countless hours at the gym, or even surgery. So the last thing I need is to have some stupid machine tell me my arms are larger than the average man's.
The conversation did not end well, and I resolved never to talk to him again about this subject, and thus was born this idea....to blog about it.
Now granted, I admit that I have body image problems stemming from childhood (where I had severe body image problems). In fact, I know of no one who has suffered from the crippling, over-whelming feelings of shame that I have/do concerning my looks. But regardless, I am not the only girl who would be devastated to discover she has fatter arms than the average guy.
I even googled it today to see if the machine was wrong. Nope, the average man has a bicep of 12-13.
I can not describe the shame I feel as I write this.
:(
So after making arrangements to have my son go to Maryland with my mom for a few weeks and my cat going to my ex's, with the plan of a getting a storage unit and sleeping in my car (my poor fiance, I have no idea how or why he loves me enough to stay with me for all of this, or even having flown out here and leaving everything behind knowing this is what he was getting himself in for). Anyway....
So I am in wal-mart buying bubble wrap (for my china) and packing tape when I decide to get my blood pressure checked. I innocently sit down at the machine and while the evil suction band of death squeezes the life out of my arm, I read the stuff on the desk-like thing in front of me.
"This machine is calibrated for the average arm measurement of 9-13 inches. If your arm is larger or smaller, you may not receive an accurate reading."
Excuse me????
You're telling me I have larger arms than the average guy????
(Having taken my measurements only just last week, I know for a fact that my arms are 13 1/4 in circumference.)
When I relate all this to DF (dear fiance), he says, so what's the problem, you don't think you got an accurate reading?
?????
Are guys really that clueless?
I try to explain, and he says I'm obsessed, obsessed with diets, obsessed with numbers, obsessed with the way I look. Um, I am a girl, at 26 - 28 % body fat, living in a culture where 10 pounds underweight (17% bf) is screamed at me from every direction as the only way to look sexy, get and keep a man, etc. Where not only I am inundated with images of this so-called perfection but as is he. I am constantly bombarded with the message to compete, compete, compete, and work, work, work to reach an ideal weight. Whether by starvation, countless hours at the gym, or even surgery. So the last thing I need is to have some stupid machine tell me my arms are larger than the average man's.
The conversation did not end well, and I resolved never to talk to him again about this subject, and thus was born this idea....to blog about it.
Now granted, I admit that I have body image problems stemming from childhood (where I had severe body image problems). In fact, I know of no one who has suffered from the crippling, over-whelming feelings of shame that I have/do concerning my looks. But regardless, I am not the only girl who would be devastated to discover she has fatter arms than the average guy.
I even googled it today to see if the machine was wrong. Nope, the average man has a bicep of 12-13.
I can not describe the shame I feel as I write this.
:(
6/14 Weekly Progress Report
6/14 Weight: 161.4 (Friday's weight: 160.8)
Goal: atleast 159 (originally: 157 / 154)
Actual: 158.8
Still behind. :(
Restricted my diet even more (but hey, atleast I loss), see post The Truth About Calories and Metabolism for details.
Cut out all weight training (despite it impossible that I gained 3 pounds of muscle have way during the week -- tuesday's weigh in was 163.4, need I describe my frustration?), though I did dfo a light total body workout with weights on thursday (20 minutes) becuase I didn't have time for my usual cardio routine and figured it would atleast ramp up my metabolism for the day.
Eliminated my dessert. Have only sugar-free candy instead of my low-fat Skinny Cow cookies and cream ice cream sandwhich (will save them for a weekend treat).
Added another snack/meal. Woo-hoo, I discovered this drink that comes in a radioactive sized testube called Profect. It is pure 100 calories worth of protein, baby -- 25 grams. It takes about 1 min to drink, is a bit tangy, but otherwise ok. I've been drinking one either before or after my workout depending on when I'd last eaten protein.
Cardio: 5k Monday thru Thursday.
Friday (today, and the day of White Trash rant and my weigh in of still-behind-goal 158.8) I left the gym after weighing in, without working out. I am frustrated, discouraged, and not sure I can continue such a regimented workout schedule without seeing any major results. I mean, come on, most people on a diet eat more and exercise less and lose 2 pounds a week. Heck, I've done as much even after pigging out all weekend, though of course this was before I quit smoking and allegedly slowed down my metabolism. Grrrr. Love you, honey!
So anyway, today I have eaten:
Turkey pepperoni and cheese
Bowl of Coco Puffs (a cereal I buy my son because I am usually NOT tempted to eat it)
Low Fat Mint Ice Cream Sandwhich
LOTS of sugar-free candy (I'm surprised I'm not gurgly)
Actually not that bad considering its almost dinner time. Fiance and I are getting pizza for dinner (I just sent my son off for the weekend to his father's and then he is being taken to my mother's in Maryland for a week or two since I don't want him here when the eviction notice is delivered). And I am definitely treating myself to a real dessert, though not sure of what yet. Probably a MoonPie, I am addicted to those things. But maybe a brownie. Or both. *sigh* Stressful day packed onto a stressful week. If only I had lost enough weight to be on goal. I'd still be so motivated.
Must snap out of depression. MUST look modelicious in my wedding dress.
We have a few rental places we are looking at this weekend, in lower class neighborhoods then mine though not ghetto (thank goodness!). Say a prayer we are not rejected once again based on my credit. :(
Will update my weekend eating Sunday night. Hopefully I don't do too bad.
Goal: atleast 159 (originally: 157 / 154)
Actual: 158.8
Still behind. :(
Restricted my diet even more (but hey, atleast I loss), see post The Truth About Calories and Metabolism for details.
Cut out all weight training (despite it impossible that I gained 3 pounds of muscle have way during the week -- tuesday's weigh in was 163.4, need I describe my frustration?), though I did dfo a light total body workout with weights on thursday (20 minutes) becuase I didn't have time for my usual cardio routine and figured it would atleast ramp up my metabolism for the day.
Eliminated my dessert. Have only sugar-free candy instead of my low-fat Skinny Cow cookies and cream ice cream sandwhich (will save them for a weekend treat).
Added another snack/meal. Woo-hoo, I discovered this drink that comes in a radioactive sized testube called Profect. It is pure 100 calories worth of protein, baby -- 25 grams. It takes about 1 min to drink, is a bit tangy, but otherwise ok. I've been drinking one either before or after my workout depending on when I'd last eaten protein.
Cardio: 5k Monday thru Thursday.
Friday (today, and the day of White Trash rant and my weigh in of still-behind-goal 158.8) I left the gym after weighing in, without working out. I am frustrated, discouraged, and not sure I can continue such a regimented workout schedule without seeing any major results. I mean, come on, most people on a diet eat more and exercise less and lose 2 pounds a week. Heck, I've done as much even after pigging out all weekend, though of course this was before I quit smoking and allegedly slowed down my metabolism. Grrrr. Love you, honey!
So anyway, today I have eaten:
Turkey pepperoni and cheese
Bowl of Coco Puffs (a cereal I buy my son because I am usually NOT tempted to eat it)
Low Fat Mint Ice Cream Sandwhich
LOTS of sugar-free candy (I'm surprised I'm not gurgly)
Actually not that bad considering its almost dinner time. Fiance and I are getting pizza for dinner (I just sent my son off for the weekend to his father's and then he is being taken to my mother's in Maryland for a week or two since I don't want him here when the eviction notice is delivered). And I am definitely treating myself to a real dessert, though not sure of what yet. Probably a MoonPie, I am addicted to those things. But maybe a brownie. Or both. *sigh* Stressful day packed onto a stressful week. If only I had lost enough weight to be on goal. I'd still be so motivated.
Must snap out of depression. MUST look modelicious in my wedding dress.
We have a few rental places we are looking at this weekend, in lower class neighborhoods then mine though not ghetto (thank goodness!). Say a prayer we are not rejected once again based on my credit. :(
Will update my weekend eating Sunday night. Hopefully I don't do too bad.
6/7 Weekly Progress Report
6/7 -- ??? Weight Unknown (ate large quantities of food over past 2 weeks for medicinal purposes, ie stress)
Am extremely motivated and focused. Will weigh 127 by wedding day. Will have defined collar bone, and shoulder blades, and no roll of fat peeking up and hanging over the top of my wedding dress. Will be drop dead gorgeous and have the same bodyfat percentage of hollywood starlights (17%). Am super-excited!
AND will not pig out on weekend like usual. Weekend (for the FIRST time in my life!) will be no different than a diet weekday except for Fri night pizza and movie (a tradition) and a few low-fat snacks/meals that actually include some carbs.
Typical Diet followed to the letter all week:
Breakfast: Turkey slices and cheese w/ onion (no bread)
Snack: EAS protein shake (17 gr; 1 gr. net carb)
Lunch: EAS protein shake
Snack: Turkey & Pepperoni and cheese (cheese 5gr fat)
Dinner: 2 Carb control quesadia w/ chicken, cheese, peppers & onion
Dessert: Skinny Cow Cookies & Cream Ice Cream Sandwhich
Misc: SF Candies / up to 72oz water / supplements (green tea, amino acids)
Monday -- Cardio: 5k.
Strength Training: Upper-body
Tuesday: -- Cardio: 5k.
Strength Training: Lower-body
Wednesday: -- Cardio: 5k.
Strength Training: Upper-body
Thursday: -- Cardio: 5k + additional 1.5 miles
Strength Training: Lower-body
Friday: Weighed in with goal of 157. Actual Weight: 160.8
Despite extreme disappointed, reassigned said goal for Monday morning, readjusting goal to be 159, AND still did workout (very rare for me on a Friday, especially with disappointing weigh-in results)
Cardio: 5k
Strength Training: Upper-body
Let it be noted that I have NEVER performed exercise on a weekend AND I usually treat myself from Friday night thru Sunday night with all sorts of off-diet foods and desserts.
Saturday: Cardio: 10k (2 sessions of 5k)
Sunday: Cardio: 5k
Only meal off-diet was dinner and all food was still low-fat though not no carb, except for Friday night's dinner, a sm Starbucks Frappacino, and 1 mega chocolate chip cookie (spread throughout weekend).
Quick Note: I did 7 days of cardio in a row. This is the first ever in my life as i hate cardio and usually have to fight just to do 4 days. AND, also amazing is my consistent 5k duration as I usually have to talk myself into staying on for 2 mi).
Monday morning weigh-in: 161.4
A half pound GAIN.
*sigh*
Am extremely motivated and focused. Will weigh 127 by wedding day. Will have defined collar bone, and shoulder blades, and no roll of fat peeking up and hanging over the top of my wedding dress. Will be drop dead gorgeous and have the same bodyfat percentage of hollywood starlights (17%). Am super-excited!
AND will not pig out on weekend like usual. Weekend (for the FIRST time in my life!) will be no different than a diet weekday except for Fri night pizza and movie (a tradition) and a few low-fat snacks/meals that actually include some carbs.
Typical Diet followed to the letter all week:
Breakfast: Turkey slices and cheese w/ onion (no bread)
Snack: EAS protein shake (17 gr; 1 gr. net carb)
Lunch: EAS protein shake
Snack: Turkey & Pepperoni and cheese (cheese 5gr fat)
Dinner: 2 Carb control quesadia w/ chicken, cheese, peppers & onion
Dessert: Skinny Cow Cookies & Cream Ice Cream Sandwhich
Misc: SF Candies / up to 72oz water / supplements (green tea, amino acids)
Monday -- Cardio: 5k.
Strength Training: Upper-body
Tuesday: -- Cardio: 5k.
Strength Training: Lower-body
Wednesday: -- Cardio: 5k.
Strength Training: Upper-body
Thursday: -- Cardio: 5k + additional 1.5 miles
Strength Training: Lower-body
Friday: Weighed in with goal of 157. Actual Weight: 160.8
Despite extreme disappointed, reassigned said goal for Monday morning, readjusting goal to be 159, AND still did workout (very rare for me on a Friday, especially with disappointing weigh-in results)
Cardio: 5k
Strength Training: Upper-body
Let it be noted that I have NEVER performed exercise on a weekend AND I usually treat myself from Friday night thru Sunday night with all sorts of off-diet foods and desserts.
Saturday: Cardio: 10k (2 sessions of 5k)
Sunday: Cardio: 5k
Only meal off-diet was dinner and all food was still low-fat though not no carb, except for Friday night's dinner, a sm Starbucks Frappacino, and 1 mega chocolate chip cookie (spread throughout weekend).
Quick Note: I did 7 days of cardio in a row. This is the first ever in my life as i hate cardio and usually have to fight just to do 4 days. AND, also amazing is my consistent 5k duration as I usually have to talk myself into staying on for 2 mi).
Monday morning weigh-in: 161.4
A half pound GAIN.
*sigh*
Measurements and Poundage
April -- 172 pounds
Arm: 13 1/4
Chest: 35 1/4
Waist: 34
Hip: 41
Thigh: 25
May -- 161 pounds
Arm: 13 1/4
Chest: 34 1/2
Waist: 32
Hip: 41
Thigh: 25 1/4 (1/4??? Did I gain a quarter inch, or did I mis meansure last time? Grrrr!)
June -- ??? pounds (inhaled junkfood for past 2 weeks for medicinal purposes)
Measurements the same as May
6/4 -- 165? 162? 161?
6/11 -- 160.8
6/18 -- 158.8
I have three columns worth of goals, so that I can shoot for the stars but also not set myself up for failure. But as fate would have it, I'm not even at my 3rd choice goals. *sigh*
Goals Actual
6/11 -- 157/157/159 160.8
6/18 -- 154/155/157 158.8
6/25 -- 152/153/155
7/2 -- 149/151/153
7/9 -- 147/149/151
7/16 -- 145/147/150
7/23 -- 143/145/149
7/30 -- 141/143/148
8/6 -- 139/141/147
8/13 -- 137/140/146
8/20 -- 135/139/145
8/27 -- 133/138/144
9/3 -- 131/137/143
9/10 -- 129/136/142
9/17 -- 127/135/141 -- Wedding Day!
Arm: 13 1/4
Chest: 35 1/4
Waist: 34
Hip: 41
Thigh: 25
May -- 161 pounds
Arm: 13 1/4
Chest: 34 1/2
Waist: 32
Hip: 41
Thigh: 25 1/4 (1/4??? Did I gain a quarter inch, or did I mis meansure last time? Grrrr!)
June -- ??? pounds (inhaled junkfood for past 2 weeks for medicinal purposes)
Measurements the same as May
6/4 -- 165? 162? 161?
6/11 -- 160.8
6/18 -- 158.8
I have three columns worth of goals, so that I can shoot for the stars but also not set myself up for failure. But as fate would have it, I'm not even at my 3rd choice goals. *sigh*
Goals Actual
6/11 -- 157/157/159 160.8
6/18 -- 154/155/157 158.8
6/25 -- 152/153/155
7/2 -- 149/151/153
7/9 -- 147/149/151
7/16 -- 145/147/150
7/23 -- 143/145/149
7/30 -- 141/143/148
8/6 -- 139/141/147
8/13 -- 137/140/146
8/20 -- 135/139/145
8/27 -- 133/138/144
9/3 -- 131/137/143
9/10 -- 129/136/142
9/17 -- 127/135/141 -- Wedding Day!
Dove's Evolution
I love this video and hope it boosts your body image/self-esteem as it did mine. BTW, I've supported Dove for years.
Jillian Michaels
Ok, I love her to death and have been an avid fan of Biggest Loser since I discovered it during Season 2. So when I found this article a few minutes ago, I just had to share.
Biggest Loser's Jillian Michaels wasn't always in such good shape.
The 36-year-old admits to the July issue of Redbook (on stands June 22) that she weighed 175 pounds at her heaviest.
"Being big as a kid was pure hell," says the 5-foot-2 1/2 trainer, who began to pack on pounds at age 12 after her parents announced their divorce. "I spent all of eighth grade in my classroom because God forbid I ever left. I was terrorized."
Michaels had a troubled childhood, and entered therapy at age five.
"I was a really disturbed kid," she says. "You know how kids have night terrors? Mine were really bad. I thought sharks were coming out of the drain in the bathtub. I couldn't sleep at night, every night, waiting for aliens to come. I'm not kidding you: I. Was. Traumatized. And mom got me into therapy."
But she began really getting into trouble once her parents split after 18 years of marriage.
"They were kind of midlife-crisis-ing, and I was sort of the afterthought. I became pretty angry -- no one wanted to deal with me -- so when I was 17, my mom was like, 'You're not living here.' We were fighting," Michaels says of being kicked out of her home.
Deeply depressed and overweight, Michaels began doing martial arts. "Karate saved my life. It all stopped the day I broke two boards with a kick," she says.
From there, she eventually became a certified fitness trainer, and auditioned for The Biggest Loser at 30. Now, she stars on her own show, Losing It With Jillian, writes books, stars in exercise DVDs and acts as a spokeswoman for nutritional supplements.
"I learned a lot being on my own," she explains. "I grew up. I had to make money. I learned how to make decisions that are right for me."
The demanding trainer says the biggest misconception about her is that she's a "b-tch. I really don't have a mean bone in my body! Do you know how easy it would be to tell people what they want to hear? It would be heaven! But, unfortunately, it doesn't get the job done."
Now, she's proud of her success and svelte figure -- but has skipped every high school reunion to avoid the kids who mocked her.
"Honestly, that's why I'm always with the underdog, because I'm always avenging that underdog part of myself," she says.
White Trash
Yea, that's what I feel like. Sitting here, smoking a bummed cigarette as my house goes up for Sheriff's sale. I grew up in the projects. I was already married (the first time, at 17, to get away from my father)and 4000 miles away (from my father) before my parents bought their first home.
Even as a single mom, I've refused welfare, or Section 8 vouchers, and the like. 10 years ago, on my own, I bought a house, a single dwelling in a middle class neighborhood. For 9 years, I never missed a mortgage payment. Even after 2nd husband and I split, even after my pay was cut the first time. But during that time, having bought it as a fixer-up (and I am girl, that thing with the round metal thing at the end is a hammer, right?) it began falling apart around me. Falling apart more than it was when I first purchased it.
And now, I sit here, smoking (on the patch), while my house is auctioned off, contemplating the last decade of my life.
I am 31 years old, twice divorced, with a 12 year old son. I haven't had sex in 4 years (being of the conservative Christian persuasion), and the only thing I have to show for myself (other than an UNpublished novel which will soon be the next best-seller and my pseudonym will be a household name) is my house. Well, was my house. That too is now gone.
Part of me is absolutely devastated. The other part of me still has hope. After all, I am unofficially engaged (no money for a ring or wedding)to the most wonderful man in the world, who left his steady job and beautiful townhouse and the mountains of Colorado to become homeless with me in the miserable, crime-infested, filth of Philadelphia.
And I must mention that I have an absolutely wonderful son. He's kind and compassionate and caring (despite his argumentative nature and total disregard for both his and anyone else's property. (I've just read in a 'how to prevent trouble in the teen years' book that the later is due to my giving him everything he ever wanted in reverse to my having nothing as a child; so he's spoiled rotten but not a brat. An odd combination. My fiance shakes his head over it, never having seen a really good kid with a great heart who just thinks everything is his and totally replaceable if and when it breaks, because trust me, if my son touches it, it will break. His father bought him a t-shirt that said 'Master of Diaster'. The tailor must have had a nightmare, er, vision of my son which inspired him).
And so, despite that I will be the next JK Rowling when my best-selling novel is finally published and selling off the shelves faster than the publisher can print them and will be living in a luxurious log cabin in Colorado, for now, I sort through Craigslist searching for an apartment that will fit the three of us but that isn't in a ghetto neighborhood. I don't want to rear my son in a neighborhood where he can't have any friends and it isn't safe to walk to the car let alone hang outside and play.
It's at times like these that I feel like white trash. Like all my dreams of rising above my circumstances and my past are nothing more than grandiose fantasies that keep me motivated enough to get out of bed each morning.
Even as a single mom, I've refused welfare, or Section 8 vouchers, and the like. 10 years ago, on my own, I bought a house, a single dwelling in a middle class neighborhood. For 9 years, I never missed a mortgage payment. Even after 2nd husband and I split, even after my pay was cut the first time. But during that time, having bought it as a fixer-up (and I am girl, that thing with the round metal thing at the end is a hammer, right?) it began falling apart around me. Falling apart more than it was when I first purchased it.
And now, I sit here, smoking (on the patch), while my house is auctioned off, contemplating the last decade of my life.
I am 31 years old, twice divorced, with a 12 year old son. I haven't had sex in 4 years (being of the conservative Christian persuasion), and the only thing I have to show for myself (other than an UNpublished novel which will soon be the next best-seller and my pseudonym will be a household name) is my house. Well, was my house. That too is now gone.
Part of me is absolutely devastated. The other part of me still has hope. After all, I am unofficially engaged (no money for a ring or wedding)to the most wonderful man in the world, who left his steady job and beautiful townhouse and the mountains of Colorado to become homeless with me in the miserable, crime-infested, filth of Philadelphia.
And I must mention that I have an absolutely wonderful son. He's kind and compassionate and caring (despite his argumentative nature and total disregard for both his and anyone else's property. (I've just read in a 'how to prevent trouble in the teen years' book that the later is due to my giving him everything he ever wanted in reverse to my having nothing as a child; so he's spoiled rotten but not a brat. An odd combination. My fiance shakes his head over it, never having seen a really good kid with a great heart who just thinks everything is his and totally replaceable if and when it breaks, because trust me, if my son touches it, it will break. His father bought him a t-shirt that said 'Master of Diaster'. The tailor must have had a nightmare, er, vision of my son which inspired him).
And so, despite that I will be the next JK Rowling when my best-selling novel is finally published and selling off the shelves faster than the publisher can print them and will be living in a luxurious log cabin in Colorado, for now, I sort through Craigslist searching for an apartment that will fit the three of us but that isn't in a ghetto neighborhood. I don't want to rear my son in a neighborhood where he can't have any friends and it isn't safe to walk to the car let alone hang outside and play.
It's at times like these that I feel like white trash. Like all my dreams of rising above my circumstances and my past are nothing more than grandiose fantasies that keep me motivated enough to get out of bed each morning.
Three Times a Charm
So I am getting married....again. Third time's a charm, right?
Anyway, must lose 45 pounds before wedding which would put me at 10 pounds underweight and make me look like a fashion model on my honeymoon. :)
Uh-huh.
My weight typically fluctuates around 155, until I quit smoking last fall for fiance and gained 15. Grrrrrr, mumble, @*%$# mumble. I mean,love you, honey!
So, I start the new year at 172. I will lose the 15 pounds by February.
Uh-huh.
January, February, March. Still 172. It doesn't help that I'm feeding my emotions and extremely stressed (a single mom supporting 3 people on a drastic pay cut and facing foreclosure).
April. 161. Finally, lost 11 pounds, though failed to reach my goal of 159. All I wanted was to be back in the 150's. The first time my fiance and I met, I was 147. *sigh, cry, sniff, sniff*
May: 159. Woopee-de-doo. I lost 2 pounds. *Major, internal temper-tantrum* Anyone have a cigarette?
And that brings me to June, the present, where I shall fill in the last few days of diary entries in blog posts. Why a blog?
My fiance thinks I am diet-obsessed and is tired of my rants. In his defense, I don't have many girlfriends, and none close enough that I would share my body image woes with, so he gets the brunt of my frustrations. Thus I have decided to blog about my weight loss journey and hope that there are others who are out there and feel the same as me. If so, please, PLEASE comment. I need the encouragement and support.
Thanks in advance!
-- RawrGirl
Anyway, must lose 45 pounds before wedding which would put me at 10 pounds underweight and make me look like a fashion model on my honeymoon. :)
Uh-huh.
My weight typically fluctuates around 155, until I quit smoking last fall for fiance and gained 15. Grrrrrr, mumble, @*%$# mumble. I mean,love you, honey!
So, I start the new year at 172. I will lose the 15 pounds by February.
Uh-huh.
January, February, March. Still 172. It doesn't help that I'm feeding my emotions and extremely stressed (a single mom supporting 3 people on a drastic pay cut and facing foreclosure).
April. 161. Finally, lost 11 pounds, though failed to reach my goal of 159. All I wanted was to be back in the 150's. The first time my fiance and I met, I was 147. *sigh, cry, sniff, sniff*
May: 159. Woopee-de-doo. I lost 2 pounds. *Major, internal temper-tantrum* Anyone have a cigarette?
And that brings me to June, the present, where I shall fill in the last few days of diary entries in blog posts. Why a blog?
My fiance thinks I am diet-obsessed and is tired of my rants. In his defense, I don't have many girlfriends, and none close enough that I would share my body image woes with, so he gets the brunt of my frustrations. Thus I have decided to blog about my weight loss journey and hope that there are others who are out there and feel the same as me. If so, please, PLEASE comment. I need the encouragement and support.
Thanks in advance!
-- RawrGirl
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