Men and Their Muscle Mass (Can Bite Me)

So, I'm engaged.  To a really handsome, fit guy.  He works out (of course he does).  He actually likes to exercise.  Sick, I know.

He can eat just about anything and get away with it because he has a lot of muscle.  Does it make me a bad person that secretly I sometimes want to spit on his cheeseburger because I resent his ability to eat it (and wash it down with a strawberry shake) and work it off with a few good sneezes?

Probably.

Ok, I'm exaggerating.  But only a little. 

He does lift weights and he does have a pretty physical job, which help him.  If he feels like he's overdoing it, he will eat more salad, drink more water and politely pass on dessert.  He quit drinking pop for the most part.  It just seems like it's so easy for him to maintain a healthy weight and compensate for overindulgences.  It's all that muscle.  Men.

Please pardon me while I throw myself on the floor now and pound my fists as I wail at the injustice of it all.  I do, after all, need to get in my workout for the day.

I Should Be the Oreo Poster Child

So far, I'm having really good day.  I'm drinking water, exercising, eating lots of fruits and vegetables.  I even have a healthy supper planned.

It takes a truckload of effort to have a really good day.  I have to think about everything I eat and drink and when I'm consuming it and when I'll fit exercise in and on and on and on.  Good flippin' grief! 

My fiance bought Oreos the other day.  I saw the package on the counter when I came in and thought, "Why?!  Does he secretly hate me?  Is this a test?  He doesn't even like Oreos very much!" 

Oreos, along with Cheetos, are to me, what Kryptonite is to Superman.  Have you ever dunked one in milk until it's almost soft all the way through but not soggy?  And then put the whole thing in your mouth until it disolves into a delicious chocolatey glob?  I could down an entire package of Oreos in an afternoon like that, without even thinking about it.

So, there they sit.  On top of the microwave.  Unopened.  I'm safe as long as they remain unopened.  I won't open them.  If I open them, he'll know I opened them.  If he opens them, there could be trouble.  If he opens them, he will eat some of them and then I could sneak some of them and shake the package around to conceal the fact that some extra ones were missing.  But that only works for a few of them.  I don't know if I could stop at a few...

For now, I'll drink another glass of water and choke down another handful of carrots and tell myself that it's worth it (despite the fact that in my head I'm screaming, "I want Oreos!").

Someday, when I grow up, Oreos won't scare me at all.

Houston, We Have a Problem

I got an email from someone today who pointed out to me that I'm a failure.  I haven't reached my goal yet, haven't written my book yet, I blew it.  These critics seem to be coming out of the woodwork, lately, to let me know I've let them down.

I wish I could say this is a big shock, but it's not.  I have always known there were people out there who thought I was failing (because they like to write me and tell me so) and those out there who just flat out wanted me to fail.

What do I think of this?  Simple.  The way you view any given situation is likely a direct reflection of how your own situation unfolds.  I know this from my own personal experience.  At the times I've struggled the most, I've been viewing myself (and everything around me) negatively.  It's not an easy rut to get out of, I'll admit.  

When you assume you will choke, you usually do.  How many times do you hear the gold medal winner in the post-event interview saying, "Wow.  I never thought I'd get here.  I really didn't think I could do this.  I thought my competitors were all so much better than me and it's a complete shock that I won.  Not in my wildest dreams did I think I could accomplish this."  

Never.

Am I supposed to apologize for struggling?   For setbacks?  For lessons learned the hard way?  Don't hold your breath.  I never set out on this journey to become a television celebrity or even a famous author.  This was a journey of personal self-discovery and an attempt to recover the ability to live my life like a "normal" person.  

I do know one thing, when you focus on what you don't have, haven't accomplished, can't seem to do, you highlight what you lack in your experience.  If I've learned nothing else, I've learned that much.

I guess it's a good thing the crew of Apollo 13 didn't accept taking up residence on the moon as the only possible outcome of the mission, or Tom Hanks wouldn't have been able to star in the movie! 

That's how I feel about the spectators and critics.  I'm on the mission while they are waiting for the movie version to come out.

So, this to the critics and nay-sayers:  You can sit and wait.  As long as it takes.  This journey is mine.  The challenges I face are mine to face.  The mistakes I make are mine to make.  I'm not doing this for you or the masses who might be inspired by my story.  I'm doing it for me.

It won't work any other way.

The day I fail, is the same day I say, "I quit.", and that my friends, will never happen.

Ups and Downs

The past year has been full of ups and downs and not just on the scale.  There hasn't been an area of my life that hasn't been impacted for better and worse.  The play on words was intentional.  In January I got engaged.  He proposed under the Campanile on the Iowa State Campus (his alma mater) at midnight.  This was definitely an "up" moment.

It got better as his kids and mine expressed their delight at us being a "real family".  I also discovered how truly dedicated my fiance, friends and family are to me and my reaching this goal, despite the challenges I've faced.

There have been some big "down" moments too, however, involving my health, my finances and one very heart-breaking loss of what I considered a die-hard friendship. 

So, now what? 

Simple.  I get up.  I put my walking shoes on.  I keep going.  

Stay tuned. 

By the way, you can find my new blog featuring recipes and meal ideas here:
Dishing the Dirt 

A Blatant Rip-off of a Holiday Classic

(orginally published 2007)


'Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the kitchen,
No holiday treats leftover to slip in.
The apples were piled in the fruit bowl with care,
In hopes of a new smaller size that I could wear.
The veggies were nestled all snug in their bins,
While visions of grapefruit, danced without sin;
And Bo in his corner and my gear near the door,
Remind me each day to seek to be sore,
When out of my mouth comes complaint, noise and chatter,
I remind myself it's a quick slide to fatter.
Away to the gym I trudged like a troll,
Bitterly whining about the size of this toll.
The parking lot dusted with new-fallen snow
Gave rise to excuses of why not to go,
When, what to my anguished eyes should appear,
But a shadow in streetlight, of my sizable rear.
With my middle-aged butt, so lively and quick, (not what you want your butt to be--think about it)
I knew in a moment to start working out quick.
As painful as working the muscles could be
(I especially cursed resistance level 3)
"Now, biceps! now, triceps! now, crunches and lats!
Oh, torture! Oh struggle! While losing the fat!
From the start of each day! To the end of the week!
Sacrifice and effort are required to peak!
As much as it hurts to admit this is true,
There is less in the "thinking" and more in the "do".
So more of the veggies and pushing and sweat,
There's a place in my head I know I must get.
To know that these changes are lasting and real,
To know that I want them, to change how I feel.
As I drew in my gut, and was turning around,
A gasp left my throat with an unusual sound.
In the mirror, in sweats from my head to my toes,
The image I caught, though it comes and it goes,
A woman changing, improving and smaller,
Or as Julie would say, "You look a bit taller."
My eyes -- how they twinkled! My body less scary!
My face aglow, with less weight to carry!
A body image distorted, there is no way to know,
But a belief and a hope that someday that goes.
And then it was gone, in a flash back to square one,
Oh well, there's next time, and for a moment it's fun.
Reappears the broad face, the more rounded belly,
That shakes, when I laugh like a bowlful of--oh forget that, it hasn't moved like jelly in months!
I feel chubby and plump, but not a disabled old self,
And I cry when I see her, in spite of myself;
A quick blink of my eyes, and a tilt of my head,
Sighing bangs off my forehead, thinking more pain to dread;
I'm not there yet, but willing to fight,
Avoiding simple carbs, everywhere in sight,
And laying my hand on the side of my hip,
And giving a nod, and a smirk with my lip;
I pick up my stuff and silently smile,
For the steps to the goal can be measured in miles.
And I heard her whisper, the one with the insight,
"You'll get there, my dear." and I believe, she is right.

Ho Ho Blah

Here I am again, dreading doing all the things I know are good for me.  Today, I'm doing them anyway.  I'm not really sure why it's such a challenge every day.  Maybe I'm just not driven enough.  Maybe I'm not smart enough to do what's in my best interest.  Maybe I'm just an insufferable masochist.  Maybe I have a terrible attitude.  Maybe I'm afraid to actually succeed at what I've set out to do.  Maybe I just don't enjoy it and never will.

I don't know.  What I do know is that the reasons why I don't like it are no longer important.  I might never figure out why it's such a struggle.  I still have to do it.  At times like these it's probably better to just turn my brain off and stop concerning myself with the "why" and just "do".

You can chuckle to yourself as you imagine me complaining to myself, whining, raging, cussing and crying about the unbearable trek on the treadmill and how tortured I feel to have to get up and do it again today. 

My tantrum-throwing inner child wails, "Why do I have to do this?  When does it end?  When can I just loaf around and eat Christmas cookies all day in my bikini body?!"

Grow up, Pamela. 

When I committed myself to making these changes and reaching my goal, I knew it would involve taking a lot of steps, most of them on the treadmill.  I had better get moving.  If I've learned anything at all in this process, it's that the steps won't take themselves and Christmas cookies make me look more like Santa Claus than a beach bunny. 

Coping with the Holidays

During the holidays, it seems the only thing I attempt to exercise is my stress management skills, resisting temptation and managing overindulgence.  This year has been no different.  My treadmill is covered in so much dust I'm pretty sure recovery of it will require an archaeological team.  For personal reasons, I've spent very little time at the clinic and I'm sure that is not working in my favor either.

The good news?  I'm not losing ground.  The bad news?  I'm getting way too comfortable on the ground I'm currently standing on.  Time for something to change, move, bend, twist.  By "something" I mean my body.  With Christmas just ten days away, I've decided not to put off the traditional New Year's resolution.  Why wait?  It's always the same thing.  Lose weight, get into shape.

Today I'm getting on the treadmill, drinking water and eating a huge salad for lunch. I must really love Square One--because I continually return to it.

I'm curious to know what you're doing to this year to manage the holiday food, stress, temptation.  Let me know.  We're in this together.  Right up until I reach my goal, publish my book, become famous and roll around naked on my bed covered in money.

Then I don't know any of you ;)