Brick Wall

I have hit a wall.

And not a good wall. Not one where I’ve made progress, but now feel blocked. I would have a good attitude about that because at least some progress had been made.

Nope. I hit the wall that was about three feet from the starting line.

This metaphorical wall has to do with working out.

I don’t know what’s going on.

I had been making some progress with the C25K program during the semester, but then the last month happened and I nearly had a meltdown so any and all forms of exercise went out the window.

Hard to get to the gym when you are spending 12-18 hours a day in your office.

Yeah…we are going to hope that never happens again.

So I wanted to get started again this summer. I would have free time and could get into a schedule.

But then these every. single. day. headaches started and I was miserable.

Eventually, I made myself go anyways. I was hoping exercise would help.

And maybe it would have, except I can’t seem to do a damn thing.

Running for a minute feels like the hardest thing on the planet. Lifting weights isn’t very productive because I don’t know how to do much other than a couple arm things and the people that work in our weight room are either super bitchy girls that are just there to flirt or guys who think there’s no point helping me since I’m not trying to bench 100+ pounds.

The personal training sessions are OUTRAGEOUS and they are will students. While I understand this is the field they are going into, most of them are body builders that can eat 3 large pizzas and not gain an ounce. Maybe that’s not how they act, but they intimidate the shit out of me. I’ve also seen a few of them working with other people, and I’ve seen them make fun of their client to their friends when the client isn’t looking.

Sorry, not paying the money to feel even worse about myself.

I’m just frustrated. I’m not in a good place with it all.

I’m mad because I got myself to this point, and I’m mad because I can’t seem to do a damn thing about it.

I;m trying to seriously watch what I eat,but Mr. A (unknowingly) is sabotaging me.

See, Mr. A has gotten into power lifting/body building. (I know. How the HELL did the two of us end up together?! I ask this all the time…)

The boy HAS to eat 5000 calories a day in order to continue making gains. And he’s so serious about all of this that he is in the gym every day, counting out how much protein to make sure het gets enough.

But he can eat whatever he wants as long as he gets enough protein.

Also, he eats like 6 meals a day.

And not small meals. Normal people sized meals, 6 times a day.

Please tell me how that’s supposed to help me who is cutting down on stuff and can’t eat two Big Macs at 10pm? (And yes. He did that the other week. And I of course wanted something too. )

I love food. I do. I love carbs. They are glorious. I have shitty eating habits. I’m fully aware of this.

So while he says he will try to eat better with me, it doesn’t happen. It just doesn’t.

I’m about to tell him he can’t eat his extra meals or unhealthy things in the house because I can’t handle it. But that’s not fair to him and it’s his home too, so here I am.

I’m trying some new things today. Going to see how I feel about a cycle yoga class. I’ve never done yoga so this might go horribly. Who knows.

Also doesn’t help that the classes offered are few and at bizarre times.

Can I just have lipo now??

Dogs-1 Me- 0

I have a lot of irrational fears. Spiders. Dark bathrooms. Clawfoot tubs. (In every horror movie if something happens in a tub, it’s a clawfoot. I’m sure this is for shooting purposes since it’s not embedded into the wall, but still. They terrify me and I refuse to use them.) Bugs in general- especially ones that fly- butterflies are not cute. Things under my bed. Haunted houses. Clowns. Creepy children.

Most of these can be reasoned out. Like the clawfoot tubs. No? Well, it makes sense to me. And after the Great Spider Infestation of 2009, you would be afraid of them also.

Unfortunately, I have an irrational fear that most of you are going to laugh at me for. It’s okay. Even my husband thinks it’s dumb. And it is. But that’s why it’s an irrational fear. If it was rational, then I wouldn’t have this blog post to write about.

I’m irrationally afraid of dogs I don’t know.

I shall pause for laughter. This could take a while…

And yes, I am the girl who wrote an entire post about what type of dog I want. And I do want a dog. More than anything.

But I will be getting that dog when it’s a puppy so I can learn about it’s personality when it’s small and cute and not scary. Then, when it’s bigger (especially the Airedale), it will be MY dog and I won’t be scared of it. At least that’s the logic behind it.

So, back to the problem.

If it’s a dog I don’t know, I’m pretty well terrified of it, especially if it’s more than a foot tall.

I have to be introduced to the dog, by its owner, and then feel comfortable around the dog and not get any weird vibes that it might turn around and rip my face off at any moment, and then I love the dog. Once I’m past that and it’s a nice dog, I’m sold. I’ll want to play with it all night. Take it home. Cuddle with it. But until then? I will run away.

And today, that’s literally what I did. I ran away.

I’m so embarrassed.

I was doing my run route, which involves more walking than running, but I’m working on it. And today, I was kicking ass. I had run more than I ever had. I had a great running playlist going. And I was less than a quarter mile from being back at our apartment, and I decided to run more. I had energy and was ready to go.

Well, on this stretch of road, there’s a water sanitation plant. We walk by it every time we walk to our favorite bar or to campus and I’ve done this route several times now and I go right by it. When we first walked by, I was hesitant since it had a “Beware of Dog” sign. But everytime, either I didn’t see a dog or it was in it’s dog house and not paying attention to me at all.

So today, didn’t even blink. I was running, Eminem blasting in my headphones, pushing me to push harder, and I glance in the fenced in area out of the corner of my eye, and I see it. A HUGE Rottweiler, which is one of the several breeds that scare the crap out of me, and some other huge dog that I couldn’t tell what it was.

And they were running, full force, right at me.

Yes, there was a fence between me and them, but the sidewalk is right next to it and too close for my own comfort.

And did I just not look and run a little faster to get past them? Did I try to tune out the sounds of their angry barks and just try to keep going?

Nope. That would have been the rational thing to do.

What do I do?

I stop. Dead in my tracks. And turn and run back the direction I came from. And I was close to a busy intersection, so everyone saw me.

I was mortified. I am mortified. I am 23 years old. The dogs were behind a freaking fence for pete sake. And I couldn’t just keep going.

Sadly, I have a history of this. Running away from dogs behind fences.

My mom’s house is crazy close to my elementary and middle school. Like, my mom could watch me walk the whole way from our backyard. Kitchen window if the corn wasn’t growing in the field. Less than a quarter mile. There was even a dirt path for the kids in my neighborhood. It followed the edge of the field and then the side of the road that ran in front of school. When the corn was tall, it was a little strange because you felt cut off from everything.

Along this path was a house with a bull mastiff. You know, this dog:

And this is just its head. These dogs are just massive. And scary. Another breed I’ll never own.

Well, this path, much like the sidewalk today, runs right next to the fence. And this dog has the meanest bark I have ever heard. And when it’s charging at the fence, you’re convinced it’s going to jump right over, just like the dog in The Sandlot, and eat you whole. And I wasn’t lucky enough for the fence to be a tall wooden one. Nope. A chainlink fence that isn’t too much higher than my waist. And this dogs head come to the top of it.

There were many crying fits on my half because of this dog. (We later decided that it had to be blind for it to not jump the fence and he would only start barking and running toward you if you made noise. And dogs hear really well. I tried all the time to be silent.)

So when the corn wasn’t in, I would cut out into the field to make this huge half circle away from the dog and his ferocious barking. The person who help the stop sign when we crossed the street would yell at me every time I did it, but there was no way I was walking by that beast. And when the corn was up and I couldn’t cut out into the field? Lots of crying, running as fast as humanly possible, and asking my mom for a ride to school. And I had to walk to school from 1st-8th grade.

I don’t exactly know where this comes from. We can come up with 2 incidents, but I can’t personally remember either. Both happened when I was about 3 or 4. Once, we were having a family BBQ in the backyard and a neighbor’s dog got lose and came tearing around the corner and knocked into me, which knocked me over and probably scared the crap out of me. The other, we were at a long time family friend’s for a BBQ (lots of BBQs apparently), and he had a huge dog. It’s name was Viking and while it was fluffy like a malamute, it had mastiff in it I think and it was also crazy. Like, even the owner said it had to have a screw lose. And Viking somehow broke out of his enclosure, came tearing around the house, and I guess because I was small, jumped onto the lawn chair I was sitting in, putting his paws on either side of me and being right in my face.

These two incidents must have left some sort of mark on my subconscious because I also have incidents of climbing people to get away from dogs. Once, I climbed my brother while walking to the bus stop at my dad’s when a dog got lose and another time we were at a different long time friend’s house and they, knowing I was terrified of big dogs, put their very hyper dog behind the fence. As were were standing outside, the dog kept jumping (and this was a tall wooden fence) and all of a sudden, she made it over the fence, and before anyone knew what was happening, and without any help, I was sitting on my dad’s shoulder pulling my feet up as high as I could so the dog couldn’t get me. Turns out, I loved that dog after I got older and she calmed down.

This fear has ruined lots of things and I have had to ask people to put their dog in another room, which is just rude of me and I know it. It’s terrible. And I’m afraid I’m going to end up scared of my own dog.

So for now, I stick to cute little puppies and dogs I know. And work on a new running route.

The Treadmill

In undergrad, a girl I had classes with, wrote an editorial for the school newspaper. Never before had an article angered me so much.

She was on the cross-country team and, therefore, was in super shape. I always saw her running and working out. No doubt she was dedicated and worked hard.

But her article?

It showed up in the paper a week or so after school resumed for the spring semester. So probably late January/early February.

It was about how she wished the fat people and their resolutions that they would never keep would get out of her gym.

I’ll let you pause and soak that in for a minute in case you glazed over that.

She wrote about how annoyed she was at the influx of students in the wellness center when she returned from Christmas break. She was aggravated that she couldn’t get a treadmill immediately since it was too cold to be running outside. She hated how the machines were fuller, so her workout routine was interrupted. It irked her that she had to wait to use weights or the balls or that the yoga mats were taken. She wanted the new people out since they obviously weren’t going to stick with this new routine. She wanted her gym back so her and her friends, who actually worked out all year, could get back to their fitness regimens.

……………

It gets better.

She talked about how these people, (I can’t continue to call them fat and overweight and obese like she did) needed to learn to not eat so many calories. She discussed how eating fried food was the cause of their weight issues and they needed to stop shoving their faces full of it.

However, she could eat a double cheeseburger if she wanted since she ran so much that she worked off the calories. Yes, she said how much she could eat, but you couldn’t.

Sadly, this isn’t an exaggeration.

Yes, I know, as do most people, that to lose weight, you need to burn more calories than you eat, or at leats you can’t eat more than you will burn. Got it. Thanks for the science lesson.

But the attitude associated with the article infuriated me.

She wanted to bash the overweight, never taking into consideration outside factors. (I believe she said she thought thyroid issues and genetic claims for obesity were a cop out and people needed to get over it.) She couldn’t understand how anyone could let themselves become overweight or anything like that. Well, I’m super glad she takes care of herself and works out.

But you can’t yell at them for it and also tell them to get out of your gym.

Even worse? It’s not just her.

Since the new year has begun, I have seen people on Twitter and Facebook say very similar things. Annoyed that there are more people on treadmills and machines, they say they wish the people would just give up already so they could get on with their workouts.

Unfortunately, I’m one of the new people on the treadmills.

I’m one of the ones taking up your machines and apparently, wasting your time.

So I guess I should just give up and quit, right?

Luckily, I know better and refuse to let the haters get to me. At least when it comes to me using the gym. I am determined to lose weight and get in shape. I’ve got an amazing little support group. I’m counting calories. I’m working out 4 or more days a week. I’m going to do this. I have amazing support and I’m finally in a place to ignore the mean out there and do what I need to do for me.

But what about others? Maybe they don’t have the support. Maybe they have friends and family calling them fatty and telling them they will fail.

They get the nerve to go to the gym, which can be INCREDIBLY intimidating if you’re not a size 4. Believe me. I know. Especially if they aren’t familiar with the setup or the equipment. It’s daunting. And the last thing any person struggling with weight issues wants is to fumble with the  equipment because it just makes them feel like everyone is looking at them and judging them. I’ve done it and it feels like it’s just a red target on your forehead, showing that I  didn’t know what I was doing in the gym and obviously hadn’t been there in a while.

So they get there, they get on their treadmill, figure out the 50 different buttons and start. And then someone walks in, probably someone very fit, and they give them the evil glare since the treadmills are taken up. I’ve been the victim of this and I have walked out of the gym because a girl stood behind me and my sweaty ass as I worked hard just to do a couple miles and she kept audibly sighing and tapping her Nike clad foot at me. And no, I didn’t go home and do sit-ups. I was so upset that I ate my feelings.

And I’m not trying to preach. I can understand it being frustrating when your usual routine is interrupted. I was always annoyed when the new freshmen would come in and just play on the equipment when I really wanted to work out. I totally get it. But maybe, try to understand that they are trying to better themselves and they could use as much support as possible?

After the outpouring of support from my blog readers when I wrote about my weight struggles, I doubt any of you would be like that. You have been fantastic and I couldn’t even begin to thank you all for it.

So the next time a new person is on your treadmill or machine, maybe you could use that as opportunity to try a new workout class. Or a new machine. Or a new workout routine. They say the best way to work muscles is to do new exercises and keep the muscles guessing! See, it will benefit everyone!

And I know a polite smile from someone would do wonders for my motivation…

Walk of Shame

This isn’t going to be easy to write. This is fun to write. I really wish I wasn’t writing it.

So, I’m sure you’re asking, “Then why the hell ARE you writing it?!”

Because I no longer have a choice.

Yes, in the abstract sense, I do have a choice, but in my mind, I don’t.

I have to write this to shame myself into doing something about it.

I know, I know. It’s the time of New Year’s resolutions and everyone says they are going to lose weight. And while some people are rude and say that no one ever sticks to it, if that is your New Year’s resolution, good for you. I will be cheering for you and wishing you the best. The people who are rude from the start always upset me because they know nothing about you and your struggles or back story. So from me to you, good luck. And if you slip up, it’s okay. Get back on. I believe in you.

And I, like you, have made the same resolution. Only I don’t like calling them resolutions.

This is my very serious goal. I absolutely HAVE to do something about it.

I know I’ve written about this in the past, but always in vague terms. Yes I need to lose weight. But as I read other blogs and Twitter comments and talked to people, I realized that “need to lose weight” means a lot of different things to different people. To some, it’s 10 or 15 pounds. To others it’s 200.

For me, it’s 85. And no, that won’t put me at anorexic status. It will bring me down to 135, which is where I should be.

So yes, I have very serious weight to lose.

And you also might ask why I’m posting this for all to see?

Because if I don’t, I will keep living in denial. I will keep on the same path. I will keep believing that it’s not that bad.

It is that bad. It’s been such a problem and source of embarrassment. It absolutely crushes me.

Throughout all of this unemployment and job problems, I’ve talked about my lack of self- esteem. And yes, a lot of the recent depressed feelings about myself do stem from the job situation. But, if I’m honest, my weight plays a huge part in all of this.

In high school, I thought I was big. Looking back, I was so very wrong, but I didn’t think that. All of my girl friends were TINY and one of my best friends had some eating issues, which I never really realized until after we went separate ways and I was looking back on the friendship and how very unhealthy it was for me. It didn’t help that I was a good six inches taller, so I was naturally going to weigh more.

My freshman year of college I weighed the lowest. I had developed some not to great eating habits of my own the summer before and the new freedom just meant my parents weren’t watching me to see if I was eating dinner.

But then sophomore year happened, my parents yanked me home because of grades, and it all collapsed around me. I was depressed. I didn’t talk to anyone at home. Not an exaggeration. I made it so that as few people as humanly possible even knew I wasn’t at MSU. I was always visiting Mr. A and such, which meant eating out and drinking. And when I was home, I sat on my bed, with my computer, and watched tv. I did, literally, nothing. And the weight piled on. I probably gained no less than 40 pounds that year alone.

And it just continued to pile on. I turned 21. I liked/still like to drink and I was all about going out and partying with friends, which usually meant going out to eat beforehand. And I learned that throwing up salad after a long night of vodka and beer pong wasn’t fun. So I would carbo-load before going out. And because I was friends with guys, I drank a lot of beer. So carbs on top of carbs on top of not doing much activity.

You know the story.

It’s embarrassing. Absolutely embarrassing. I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve broken down in tears in changing rooms because clothes didn’t fit or I had to go up a size or a zipper broke when trying on a dress. If I had to create my own personal hell, it would be a changing room with clothes that will never fit and always look bad, but I had to find a way to wear them.

My husband is a very sweet man. But he’s also a very sweet man who can eat what he wants. He may complain about his weight, but he hits the gym or goes for one of his 50 mile bike rides (which isn’t even his longest and he loves doing it) and it’s gone. He’s built a little stocky since he’s a little shorter, but he can lose any weight in no time. Also, after he works out, he can eat anything he wants.

And he tries to help me. But for some reason, whenever he brings up working out more or eating better or gives me a look when i reach for the chips, it breaks my heart. I crumble into a sobbing puddle. I know he means nothing mean by it, but I can’t take it from him. I also can’t workout at the gym with him. He’s also the first person I will get angry with and it ends with a huge blowup.

But I also know my weight problems make him unhappy. Not in a way that he loves me less, but my struggles make it nearly impossible for me to just let loose or be the person I was when he met me. The confident girl who felt sexy and attractive and who knew that his eyes were only on me. And as much as he says he loves me no matter what, I can’t help but think that he has to notice other girls and wish I looked like them. Not the skinny as a rail models, but the healthy girls who can wear a swimsuit and not feel the need to be covered every minute they’re not in the water.

I want to be more for him. I want to do better for him. I don’t want him to think he made a mistake in marrying me.

And the most devastating is looking at pictures. Pictures from this Christmas just made me sick. I think I tricked myself into believing it wasn’t that bad. I wear my “skinny outfits”, thinking I look good and then a picture shows up and I look terrible. I walk by mirrors at work and I think, “It looked better when I was at home.” It is that bad. I promise you. And I need to face the music on my own problems here.

Even worse, wedding pictures. A girl is supposed to look back at her wedding pictures and love them. They are supposed to remind her of the amazing day shared with friends and family as she married her best friend.

I see the fat rolls on my arms or how wide I looked in my dress or how chunky my face looks. I try so hard to look past that, but I just can’t.

And I know a girl who had the exact same dress and seeing her pictures make it worse. Yes, she’s like six feet tall and super skinny, but I can’t help at think how much better she looked in the dress than I did.

So this is why I’m writing this.

To get back to the girl I know I was and can be, if I can just shed some of this weight and feel better, not only about my appearance, but also just feel healthier. I no longer have a choice.

I put it out there. I can’t turn back now.

I’m not turning this into a weight loss blog because I will need my escape. But I hope to do updates. Good or bad. I will feel accountable to you.

And if you are someone who is in shape, or maybe only has 5 pounds to lose, I hope you can understand where I’m coming from. I’m cheering for all of you and hope you can cheer for me too. This isn’t going to be easy or even fun all the time, but I’m hoping to get there this year.  I want more for myself this year, and this is where I’m starting.

Told Ya

I told you I would be back to my chipper self in no time.

Not everything is fixed or better, but I can’t obsess over them or things will just get worse. I did it when I had to go to school at home for a year and I added more pounds than I’ll admit on the internet and all self esteem went out the window.

Must. Stay. Positive.

So, on that note, I give you some things that make me so ridiculously happy. Probably more than they should, but whatever.

1. GLEE. I know you already know this. I LOVE GLEE. So wonderful. No, not all the acting is great and some episodes are better than others, but being a huge theater fan and the fact that I love swing choir (my high school version of GLEE club minus the competing), GLEE is wonderful. I love the music and the dancing and the bizarre plot lines. I was so happy tonight with the premier. Mr. A even watched with me and it was wonderful. He even ordered the entire 1st season for me. (He had an Amazon gift card AND it was on sale, NEW, on Amazon tonight. He’s super.)

2. Duoly Noted’s bruschetta. People. You don’t understand how truly fantastic this is. I also made her linguine with clam sauce and it was also amazing, but the bruschetta. I almost wished my husband wasn’t eating so I could have had it all to myself. I learned I loved bruschetta in Chicago at one of the famous pizza places. I’ve tried to make it myself and it would turn out okay, but nothing great. Tonight it was mouthwatering and better than the restaurant. No exaggeration. Husband thought the same. Probably going to have an entire meal of it next week. And I don’t like tomatoes. So if you don’t like tomatoes either, try this recipe. It will change your life.

3. Puppies. I already wrote a ridiculously long post about this, so I’ll leave it at that.

4. Wine. We went to a wine festival here a couple weekends ago and we found some local wines that we LOVE. We bought a couple bottles and I could drink them all by myself. I love white wine that isn’t too dry. We found a Vignoles that is so yummy with just about any meal you put in front of me.

5. Hunger Games. I know I’m late to this party and pretty much all of you have already read the entire series, but it is so good! I’m about 90 pages in and I’m hooked. I would have spent all night reading if it hadn’t been the premiere of GLEE and then Biggest Loser. I can’t wait to read all of them and I hope Catching Fire and Mockingjay are just as involving. **Sidenote: I am DREADING when the games start because I’ve already fallen in love with Peeta and how the heck am I supposed to cheer for Katniss to kill him?? I must read more tonight.

6. Bubble Baths. I love them. More than an adult should love a bubble bath. a couple times a week I take one and read whatever book I’m on at the time. I usually have to re-warm the water because I’m in there long enough for the water to cool. In This Wonderful Life is hosting a “Keep Calm and…” giveaway. I was looking at the possible prints and they have a “Keep Calm and Soak On” print with a bathtub on it. I’m so hoping I win so I can get it. It will fit in our bathroom so well and it fits me perfectly! Probably going to go take a bubble bath and read as soon as I finish this.

7. Jillian Michaels. Not really. I really more hate her. And her perfect abs. And the other girls’ perfect legs. I want to watch other out of shape people struggle through the workout like I do, not girls who wish the video would end so they can get to their real workouts. BUT I can tell it’s doing something. Actually, it worked SO well yesterday, that I couldn’t hardly walk today. Or move. Or bend. Or breathe. I found 3 positions that were comfortable and didn’t make me want to cut off my legs. It goes without saying that I couldn’t do the workout today, but I have every intention of doing it tomorrow. Even if I can’t do everything or all the reps, I WILL workout again tomorrow. Jillian knows what she’s doing and I love that. I might have a chance to lose the weight I want. If I can eat better, smaller portions, and keep with this workout, I hope I can get there.

8. That my husband doesn’t freak out when I tell him I chose the wrong career path. He even TRULY thinks I should go back to school now and we’ll live off loans. All to make me happy and get the career I want. He’s a doll sometimes. This will be it’s own blog post, but it’s good to know that he will support me should I choose that path because my parents might try to commit me. Not even kidding.

9. Blogging. All of you who read and comment and give advice and encouragement and tell me you’ve been there and it will get better. I love the blogs and I love Twitter for connecting me to bloggers. We tweet about shows and celebrities. We ask questions. Vent about whatever is going on. Tell funny stories. Share pictures that are in the moment. I love this community I have found. YOU have helped me in more ways that you probably know. You’ve gotten me through this very difficult and stressful time with your humor and sarcasm and dry senses of humor. Snarky blogs? One of my favorites. Thanks for sticking with me and keep the comments coming. They make my day.

10. I’m doing this for Life of a Doctor’s Wife. She has to end lists at 10. Figure if I keep her OCD calm, she’ll keep reading.