Holilaze.

Father forgive me, for I have been extraordinarily lazy.

I had a wonderful Christmas/New Year's vacation from life (and blogging). I totally quit eating like I was supposed to, haven't been to the gym in (4) weeks and haven't done much to my home in the way of cleaning and organizing, etc. I have been self-indulgent and self-excusatory. (Is that a word?) I ate steak and bread and cheese and even had a wine and cheese party at our house complete with a chocolate fountain. That's right. A milk chocolate fountain. And that made an appearance twice over the break. Somehow, my husband even managed to make ramen hearty. Indeed, Corey and I were examples of gluttony at it's finest.  

After all, isn't that what most Americans do during that wonderful, gluttonous season? I think yes. And if you think no, you're lying to yourself.

I have also been terribly self-centered over the last 17 days trying desperately to decide what this new year would hold for me and what my resolutions would be. Back to school? Try and have a baby? Get completely out of debt? Climb a mountain? Learn to knit? Get in crazy good shape and be in one of those fitness competitions where I start to resemble my husband? What can I do in 2012 that will make this a remarkable year? Isn't surviving with day-to-day stress enough?

My husband's father is on the board of a community theatre in town. He asked me to take a part of a show he will be directing in February and we had our first rehearsal last night. I play a character named Bunny. Now, the image I have of a 'Bunny' in my mind is a thin blonde with big boobs. (I mean really, any name like Bunny, Candy, Cinnamon.... what exactly is one supposed to think?) There's a line in the show where someone refers to her as 'a hot something or other', I can't remember exactly. All I know is that I am NOT 'a hot something or other' and I have approximately 40 days to lose some weight and find chicken cutlets for my bra. Seriously. Can't embarrass my new family.

I know that I was pretty gung-ho about my weight-loss-body-makeover extravaganza a month ago, but apparently it doesn't take much more than a whiff of some crustini and cheese for me to fall off the wagon. Sad, right? My will power at times is just so non-existant. And if everyone at work is ordering cheeseburgers and fries with a side of heart disease and diabetes, I need to too. Because frankly, it would be rude not to. 

I have never in my life been a thin girl and I am not trying to be thin now. I am trying to lose weight for this show, I feel like it's good to have a goal, something to shoot for and it keeps me focused and motivated. 

So, it's time for some real ugly accountability. I had a lapse in blogging where I lost around 7 pounds, purely from counting calories and continuing to work out. I worked one night and stopped working out after that. It gave me an out that I used over and over. 'I got out of my routine, blah blah blah'. Truth is, I did have an out. When you need the money and get the chance to work extra, you do. And when you are used to working days and work one night, it screws you up really good. So, for a few days, it was an acceptable reason to not hit the gym. Your body must rest. However, I don't think my body needed 30 days of rest to recuperate. Fail. 

As far as my crappy eating goes, once the gym was out of sight, out of mind, it didn't matter what I ate. The funny thing about working out is that it suddenly makes you reconsider everything you eat. All of a sudden, that 45 minutes on the elliptical seems a lot more important than the (second) donut. And when you start to see small changes, it makes you reconsider the donut at all. 

My new year's resolution is absolutely to be better. You do better when you know better.  And I do. And I can't make any more excuses. I'm getting older. And as every year passes, 5 more pounds is going to add up. In ten years, when I'm 35, how is my body going to react to 50 more pounds? Poorly. And as I get older, it will be harder and harder to take it off. And losing weight benefits everyone around you with renewed energy, a better attitude, etc. So, it's not completely selfish.

So raise your protein shakes. Here's to a new year and a second chance.

until tomorrow, here's to being motivated, not mo' lazy.

Fat pants.

Today, I can say that I hate my life.

After what I would describe as an epic workout last night (mostly just because I worked out at all), I went to Walmart and bought a digital scale. I was looking for some encouragement, so my thought process here was that I would know exactly where I was in my 'journey'. Also, we currently have an old-school dial scale, so this one will help in taking the guess work out of what one actually weighs. And to be sure it would actually weigh me, I picked the one that went up to 400 pounds. Just in case. After I slept in this morning, I got on it in hopes that it would give me good news and that I would be so pleased with the progress I have made that I would feel free to eat a large pastry-filled breakfast.

I was not pleased. The scale gods hate me. It revealed to me that not only was I a hefty girl, I was more hefty than I thought. 190 pounds, folks. One hundred and ninety freaking pounds. So you know what I did? I kicked the scale.

I bought a brand new $27 scale and then today, I kicked it. Against the wall. It has to be a liar. This piece of crap is obviously defective, there is no way in blue hell that I weigh that much. It must be at least 5 pounds off. So, I grab a 5 lb free weight and drop it on the scale. Thud. Display reads: 5 pounds. ARRRGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Oh, God. I hate my life. I hate my freaking life. Back to bed I went.

Now mind you, it was 10 o'clock and I'm back in bed, crying like an idiot over a (large) number. My mom texts me reminding me of obligations with my sister so up to the shower I went. Showered, calmed down, cup of coffee and scale again. I know better than to weigh after showering and putting anything in my body, but holding out hope here, I thought maybe it would magically change. 191.4. Off to the closet I go. I know you know where this is going.

So now, to make matters even more ridiculous, the pant gods decide that today is not my day with them either.

My jeans didn't fit. Not only did I get to come to the understanding that I am rapidly approaching 200 pounds, now I get to wear my almost-too-tight fat pants. I burst into tears. Not just a trickle of soap-opera tears, but Hoover Dam tears. It was ugly. And it scared my husband a little. He tried his best to console me, but it was a loss. I was a loss today. 

Never before have I felt so defeated. I have nothing to show for my weight gain. I am not on a steroid for some kind of illness. I am not a new mother, or a mother at all for that matter. I did not just go through an epic hardship in my life. I am just fat. Fat with nothing to show for it and fat with NO excuse. I have also worked hard for ten days, at least 10 solid hours of working out, 5 of those total cardio and what good has it done? Defeat set in like a fog, my heart was heavy and it was a miserable morning.

My afternoon consisted of a lot of shopping to console myself with and take my mind off of things. It helped. I guess. But it didn't change what the scale said.

So, the question is, what do I do now? Where to go from here? The answer is that my diet has to change. I went into this with the anticipation that I wouldn't have to change what I eat if I'm working out hard enough. There is not enough work out in the world to eat like I want to. So, tomorrow I am going to start doing some serious calorie counting. Because I hate the way I felt this morning when I got on that stupid scale. Because I hate the way I look in pictures. And because my husband deserves a sexy woman to come home to (I figure I can at least hire some girl that he can come home to while I'm at the gym). 

It is ok to be discouraged when you want something real bad and have a set-back. But it's not ok to give up and quit. 

It didn't take 10 days to put it on, so it's not going to take 10 days to take it off. That's a reality check.

Somebody smarter than me said that it takes 4 weeks for you to notice a change, 8 weeks for your friends and family to notice and 12 weeks for the rest of the world to start to see a change.

So here's a list of things to re-motivate me, to work for, to be healthy for, to get up and go to the gym for when I get done typing this post. It's for me, but you can read it. : ]

Reasons not to quit:

-to be healthy

-to be around for my children and grandchildren someday, to be able to play with them without being too tired to do so

-to be attractive to my husband again

-to be attractive to myself again

-to wear a swimsuit without embarrassment

-to wear a size single-digit pair of pants

-to lose enough weight to buy new scrubs

-to have a flat stomach

-to be motivation for my family

-to be a before and after picture on Pinterest : ]

-to have more energy

-to not feel huge when i put on my winter coat and get bundled up

-to not feel my love handles pinch each other.

-to not have my thighs chafe when they rub together. ha!

-to have a gap between my thighs (now, this is really wishful thinking, but a girl can hope)

-to not be a wilder beast at my ten-year reunion

-to not dread the awful West Texas heat

-to not live a mediocre life and to prove to myself that I am capable of accomplishing something

I'm trying real hard to be motivated enough to go to the gym tonight. I'll let you know how it goes. 

Until tomorrow, I'll still be plump and pissed off. 

Steph

Some days you do, and some days you just have to.

Oh, excuses. 

Today, I have a million. Or at least 2 very valid reasons as to why I couldn't and shouldn't go to the gym. 

Excuse #1

Yesterday, I met up with my friend Kay. Kay is a wonderful woman who heals my knotted-up muscles when I've my shoulders are at my ears with tension and my type-AAA personality, etc. Truly, she is a god among men. Anyway, I go in and tell her that I'm hurting, my back and my muscles and have I told you I've been working out, yadda, yadda, yadda. She says to me, 'Ok baby, shut up and hop up on this table so I can fix it.'

Fix me, she did. I felt like a million and a half freakin' dollars yesterday. What she neglected to tell me was that this morning I was going to feel like I'd been run over by a 650 pound man trying to get the very last warm donut that would ever come off the line at Krispy Kreme. This morning, I was so sore that when the carb-induced fog I went to sleep in lifted, I hurt. And I mean, the hurt woke me up and wouldn't let me go back to sleep. So I took some ibuprofen and greased myself up with some Tylenol Precise Gel (which is great by the by) and tried, in vain, to go back to sleep. It didn't work. So, I've battled severe muscle and tissue inflammation and pain today. Wah, waaaaaaaah. (That is my attempt at the sad sound effect you hear when someone on a game show loses.  Just so we're all on the same page here.)

Excuse #2

Our small town had a main pipe (or two?) burst. There is no water here. And by no water, I mean none. They've completely cut us off like Kourtney Kardashian should've done to Scott Disick a long time ago. I digress. So, my second excuse is that I couldn't shower if I went to work out! I mean, I have to work tomorrow and take care of patients! I can't smell. That would just be... so unprofessional on soooo many levels. (See how I tie things together to make them more and more relevant so I don't go to the gym? Fat girl mentality.)

Loooooong story short, I went. I went to the freakin' gym. Not because I wanted to, not because Corey made me, but because I told you I would. Working out isn't fun, it wasn't designed to be fun. But as long as I am doing something, I feel better. (I also felt better when I ate that chocolate donut this morning, but that is totally besides the point. ...but it was fresh and delicious and the chocolate to dough ratio was just perfect. No one will understand this better than my best friend.)

So, what are your excuses for not going? Do they change day-to-day? Mine sure do. But it's my mind over my matter. And I decided that I matter. And you do too.

So that's your bulge for today, now here's your bling.

My unfinished Burlap and Bling Christmas tree! I bought this tree at the good 'ole KMart last year for a steal. I know it was under 30$, prelit! Man, what a deal. So, it's our second tree this year, but my favorite. Christmas should be in every room, just like it should be in every heart. Awwwww..... you're welcome for the heart-warmingness of that last comment.

Please note, this tree is in an unfinished state, but to me, it's brilliant. Way more gorgeous in person, so come see!

Thanks for sticking with me today. Until tomorrow, I'll still be Cheery and Chubby,

Steph

Week One and a weak one.

Hi. My name is Stephanie. And I am in love with food. In a dirty, nasty, back alley kind of way.

I am overweight. I wouldn't classify myself as obese or morbidly obese but if you ask my jeans, they might disagree. On November 28, I committed myself to working out for 30 straight days. I decided that some daily blogging would probably keep me accountable to the few people who will read this while I attempt to carve the skinny out of this fat girl mold it's in.

A backstory.

I just got married. And when I say I just got married, I mean that I am a fresh newlywed, less than two months, no 'expiration' or 'use by' date in site. It's been wonderful and all that, we've enjoyed being married. We enjoyed the wedding, I loved the planning, obsessed over it even. The most important part to me (besides the food, cue fat girl remarks) was the photography. I needed an epic photographer to capture all this great stuff I was planning to do and how truly great my wedding was going to be. 

And I found one. Lauren Clark was it for me. No questions asked. Sign me up, I'm in love. Everyone of the weddings she blogged were so good. Deliciously beautiful, and all her brides were the same way. Gorgeous and care free and thin and happy and thin and in love, etc. So, I figured that no matter how harried (or large) I looked on that day, her magic would fix me. She was the Wizard and I was Dorothy sans the little man that told me I couldn't see her. 

She was wonderful and kind and beautiful and did all the engagement pictures and the bridal portraits and the wedding and we waited with bated breath to see what glorious, editorial, romance-cover novel portraits she would produce for us.

...and then, they came. I squeeled out of sheer elation. I was a Lauren Clark Bride. I had arrived.

Now, I know that I am not a thin woman. I never have been. Just for some mental aid, I am five feet seven inches tall and currently, I think I probably weigh around 185 pounds. That's right. Let that sit a minute. Here's a picture of me in all my glory.

That's me on the far fat left there. In all my pooch glory. I left my other two friends in because they're about the same height as me, so there you go for comparison. (This picture was taken at my Christmas shower, thrown by my sweet (and fabulously thin) friend Blake. She's in the middle. Beautiful, right? So, anyway, don't judge my outfit. It was festive.)

So anyway, back to the wedding pictures and bated breath and all that. We popped this beautiful disc in the ole Mac and waited for it to load all 583 pictures that would chronicle the best day of my life.

What I saw horrified me. I panicked. I could feel my pulse quicken, my breathing got faster, my eyes started to water. The true sign of this slight nervous breakdown was when I went reaching for anything I could find to eat to calm me down. Fat girl mentality.

This is what I saw:

Yowsa. Please note the fat arms, baby-bump-like bulge, the enormo arms and the closed eyes (which is what I usually look like while eating something as delicious as a Patsy Hart cake, hello.) all while scarfing down some cake.

And this is how I felt:

Yup. It was that bad. And you're welcome for this pretty terrible picture.

I did not look like a model on the cover of Brides. I was not Style Me Pretty worthy. My bridesmaids looked thinner and more bridal and gorgeous than I did. Their hair was better. I was mortified. And I knew everyone would see these pictures and there was nothing I could do about it. Public humiliation on a grand scale.

Did I still get married? Yes. I am just as married as I would've been had I been gorgeous and thin. My husband is still stuck with me. : ] And I'm still a Lauren Clark Bride. But, changes are necessary. I can't feel this way every time I see a picture of myself. Am I fabulous? Sure. Do I need to lose some freakin' weight? Absolutely.

I began to question things I had professed to be passionate about. I love life. I love to live every day and travel and eat and see what new adventures the day will offer. I hate mediocrity and complacency. The paradox here is that I profess to love life, but I love love love to eat. I'm a nurse and I take care of people every day who chose gluttony and laziness over life. Loving to eat is a double-edged sword. It can mean choosing to kick out early. 

So, I said to myself, Stephanie, when you have the ability and means necessary to change something that you're unhappy with, why wouldn't you? If you know better, why don't you do better? Because you lack the self-control?

To me, it seemed lazy.... complacent, mediocre. How awful does it sound to continually settle for whatever is easiest? It sounds boring. And life is too short to live bored. 

So, I am here to confess to you that my life is complicated in a way that's hard to untangle. I have a love affair with food that is romance novel worthy. I idolize Paula Deen, and I hate Samantha Brown for having the best job in television the world. My husband cooks for foreplay and I let him. 

I also have this crazy desire to be one of those marathon runners. To like working out and sweating for the sake of working out and sweating. To look like the girls on Nike commercials and be just as passionate about being healthy and in shape as I am about a good plate of pasta and the delicious dessert that follows. To learn to love an apple and wheat germ like I love cheese and bread.

It's complex. And after years of trying to no-carb diet and work out off and on, I have failed. 

I have the means necessary. I am healthy. I have access to a gym that's usually warm and dry. I have the support of a husband who would love me no matter what. I have worked out for one week solid and after a lengthy deep-tissue massage and on the advice on a woman smarter than I (my massage therapist, Kay Davis) I am taking tonight off. I will go again tomorrow.

Are you going to the gym tonight? It's ok if you're not... just asking.

Until tomorrow I'll still be... fat and fabulous,

 Steph