I've got a lot to write about. In fact, I've been writing blogs in my head for weeks now.
About life.
About dieting and weight loss.
About exercise.
About being a pack rat.
It's a shame you all aren't mind readers.
I'm trying.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Look into my Crystal Ball...
I've got a lot to write about. In fact, I've been writing blogs in my head for weeks now.
About life.
About dieting and weight loss.
About exercise.
About being a pack rat.
It's a shame you all aren't mind readers.
I'm trying.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Doctor, Doctor...
I went to the doctor this afternoon. I ended up bringing Little Sister with me because she wasn’t feeling well. On our way in, she said, “We always come to this doctor.” I told her it’s because I like this doctor!
I never really cared about what doctor I saw. I used to see the same Birkenstock-wearing doctor my mom saw until I ended up getting an appointment with the only other female doctor in the practice. I couldn’t believe how different they were and immediately switched. When I was pregnant with Little Sister, I had to go to a different group because none of the doctors at my clinic did OB care. (I begged, too, but they wouldn’t start for me, how dare they?!) I ended up seeing a male doctor…and as it usually goes, by the end of my pregnancy, I didn’t care who was looking down there anymore.
When my insurance changed shortly after Little Sister was born, I had to change clinics again. I found a very nice doctor that I really liked before she moved to New Mexico. I chose my current doctor because I knew she would be a hard-ass about my weight. I need that. I don’t need a doctor who will smile and pat my arm and tell me she knows I’m trying. I need a doctor who will tell me to stop making excuses and get up off my ass and exercise.
Amazingly, I’ve been seeing her for almost five years now. I really like her and don’t mind driving more than a few miles out of my way to see her. She’s been with me through crazy diets, scared me about surgery, and written me prescriptions to make me exercise. This was the first time in a long time that I was excited to go to the doctor so I could show off my weight loss.
She’s so proud of me! (As I’m proud of myself!) It was so great to hear that I’m doing something right.
Onto the reason for my visit. I’ve been keeping a journal of my
My doctor said that if I could manage to get two weeks of good sleep—-with the help of medication-—that I may be able to get myself back on track and sleep without medication every night. She gave me Lunesta…I’ve tried Ambien CR and it hasn’t been working. She listed 4 or 5 other meds, but gave me Lunesta because she had samples—-which is okay by me. She also wrote me a prescription and a coupon for $25 off. (Also, fine by me.)
At this point, I’m desperate for sleep and willing to try anything. I’m off to bed…
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Finding Time
Damn. A whole week. (And a day.) I've been trying. Really, I have.
My editing job has kept me busy. Especially since I'm not so good at scheduling. It's another thing I'm working on.
I've been sick. Little Sister has been sick.
I'm trying to cram too much into my life...it's getting to be a lot.
Employee. Editor. Mom. Wife. Friend. Dieter. Writer. Exerciser.
I'm not willing to give anything up. So I'm just going to have to try harder.
I'm down 20.2 pounds. My dad is coming from Texas to visit on March 24th...I'd like to have lost 30 by then. Totally doable.
I slept through the night last night for the first time in a LONG time. And I have an appointment with my doctor on Thursday.
And I have NOT been wearing my pedometer. D'oh!
Monday, February 09, 2009
Do Ya Miss Me?
I was doing so well, too.
Wednesday night--Turbo Kick. I took some Excedrin PM. Helps me sleep, but I still wake up in the night and I get a massive hangover the next day. Ick.
Thursday night--Skipped Turbo, not feeling well. Took a sleeping pill, but not until about 10. Yes, I thought it was a magical pill that would put me out right away. It didn't. I was up for a while and woke up half a dozen times.
Friday night--stayed home. I was tired, but knew I wanted to take a pill Saturday night, and didn't want to take one 3 nights in a row--because I knew I was definitely taking one Saturday night. Slept horribly.
Saturday night--Turbo Kick in the am. Got sick in the afternoon. Like awful, in the bathroom every five minutes kind of sick. Decided NOT to take a sleeping pill in case...you know. Slept horribly.
Sunday night--Turbo Kick in the pm. Took a sleeping pill around 8:30. In bed at 9, asleep very shortly after. Awake at 2. Awake at 4. Awake at 5:30. Alarm at 6. (What is my problem?) But, sleeping from 9 until 2 is the longest sleep I've had in a while. Hooray for me.
Tonight, I am going to try to sleep without a pill. I went to Body Flow class, which is like Tai Chi. There's a relaxation time at the end, and I'm feeling very...relaxed. Except I turned my head funny and my neck hurts. I'm tired and I think I can fall asleep without help tonight. (Although staying asleep is another story.) If my Nuvaring was the problem, the hormones should be out of my system within the next couple of days. I'm going to lay off the sleeping pills and see how I do.
In other news, tonight was my weigh-in. I'm down... .8. Seriously. 19.8 pounds total. Bah. (I know. A loss is a loss. It's still frustrating.) I wanted to be down my 10%, which is 25.8 pounds by the time I hit 16 weeks...which is next week. Can I lose 6 pounds in a week? Probably. Will I keep it off the following week? Probably not. (Although I told my mom that I could hit the Y Biggest Loser style this week and maybe do it.)
I have stuff to write about. I just haven't been feeling well. But I'm here.
Wednesday night--Turbo Kick. I took some Excedrin PM. Helps me sleep, but I still wake up in the night and I get a massive hangover the next day. Ick.
Thursday night--Skipped Turbo, not feeling well. Took a sleeping pill, but not until about 10. Yes, I thought it was a magical pill that would put me out right away. It didn't. I was up for a while and woke up half a dozen times.
Friday night--stayed home. I was tired, but knew I wanted to take a pill Saturday night, and didn't want to take one 3 nights in a row--because I knew I was definitely taking one Saturday night. Slept horribly.
Saturday night--Turbo Kick in the am. Got sick in the afternoon. Like awful, in the bathroom every five minutes kind of sick. Decided NOT to take a sleeping pill in case...you know. Slept horribly.
Sunday night--Turbo Kick in the pm. Took a sleeping pill around 8:30. In bed at 9, asleep very shortly after. Awake at 2. Awake at 4. Awake at 5:30. Alarm at 6. (What is my problem?) But, sleeping from 9 until 2 is the longest sleep I've had in a while. Hooray for me.
Tonight, I am going to try to sleep without a pill. I went to Body Flow class, which is like Tai Chi. There's a relaxation time at the end, and I'm feeling very...relaxed. Except I turned my head funny and my neck hurts. I'm tired and I think I can fall asleep without help tonight. (Although staying asleep is another story.) If my Nuvaring was the problem, the hormones should be out of my system within the next couple of days. I'm going to lay off the sleeping pills and see how I do.
In other news, tonight was my weigh-in. I'm down... .8. Seriously. 19.8 pounds total. Bah. (I know. A loss is a loss. It's still frustrating.) I wanted to be down my 10%, which is 25.8 pounds by the time I hit 16 weeks...which is next week. Can I lose 6 pounds in a week? Probably. Will I keep it off the following week? Probably not. (Although I told my mom that I could hit the Y Biggest Loser style this week and maybe do it.)
I have stuff to write about. I just haven't been feeling well. But I'm here.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Insomnia
I had another topic to write about tonight, but I've had this on my mind. I haven't been sleeping well.
Sunday night, I was up until one in the morning. When I finally forced myself to go to bed, I lay restless until at least two. Then I was up at 2:40. Up at four. Up at 4:40. I can't fall asleep. I can't stay asleep. I've been this way for months.
I've been exercising more than I ever have before. I'm eating right. I've cut back on caffeine and limited myself in the afternoon. Still, I can't sleep. I'm emotional. Irritable. The circles beneath my eyes are growing.
On Tuesday, I decided that enough time had passed that it was time to call my doctor. Of course, she was off yesterday, so I called her today. She called me back this evening, and I wondered if it might be my birth control. I have a long, complicated history with birth control, but the short story is that I was on Yasmin for years and everything was perfect until it wasn't perfect and last August, my doctor put me on the Nuvaring, which I love. However, right now, it's the only medication I take regularly, and I started having trouble sleeping at some point last fall...I thought it was the stress of the kids starting school...and then our upcoming trip to Nebraska...and then the holidays. I thought it was normal...but month after month of 3-5 hours of sleep per night has led me to think that maybe it's not so normal.
She told me she hadn't really heard of there being a link between the Nuvaring and insomnia, but since it's hormone related--and hormones do pretty much whatever the heck they want to--it could be the problem. She asked if I had trouble sleeping during my week off the ring...but I haven't been taking that week off, because she told me not to. I'd been having some major problems when having my period--most importantly debilitating headaches--and she told me to use the ring for three weeks and then put a new one in instead of taking week off. I still get my period every other month or so while on the ring, but it's not nearly as bad as it was.
My doctor suggested I "go off" the ring and see what happens. She told me to take it out and the hormones should be out of my system in 3-4 days. She said to give it a week or so and see how I'm sleeping--she's sending me samples of a sleep aid in the meantime, thank God, sleep! If I'm still not sleeping well, then I have to go see her to figure out what's wrong. (And I can go back on the ring.)
I'm torn. I'm worried I'm going to gain weight when I stop using the ring. I'm pissed that I just got a three month supply and now I'm wasting the one I just put in last week. (On the other hand, some decent sleep sounds so good to me, I don't care about the money.) Without the birth control, I didn't have my period for over a year--frustrating considering we wanted to get pregnant during that time. We're not trying to get pregnant right now, which is one reason I haven't minded staying on the birth control. I'm not worried about getting pregnant...I'm worried that my body is too screwed up to have a normal cycle without help. It took a lot for me to get back to normal...and I know I'm worrying for nothing, because if I'm still having trouble sleeping after a week, then it will be a moot point, and I'll go back on the Ring, and not have to worry about periods or pregnancy...and then I'll worry about why I can't sleep.
Sunday night, I was up until one in the morning. When I finally forced myself to go to bed, I lay restless until at least two. Then I was up at 2:40. Up at four. Up at 4:40. I can't fall asleep. I can't stay asleep. I've been this way for months.
I've been exercising more than I ever have before. I'm eating right. I've cut back on caffeine and limited myself in the afternoon. Still, I can't sleep. I'm emotional. Irritable. The circles beneath my eyes are growing.
On Tuesday, I decided that enough time had passed that it was time to call my doctor. Of course, she was off yesterday, so I called her today. She called me back this evening, and I wondered if it might be my birth control. I have a long, complicated history with birth control, but the short story is that I was on Yasmin for years and everything was perfect until it wasn't perfect and last August, my doctor put me on the Nuvaring, which I love. However, right now, it's the only medication I take regularly, and I started having trouble sleeping at some point last fall...I thought it was the stress of the kids starting school...and then our upcoming trip to Nebraska...and then the holidays. I thought it was normal...but month after month of 3-5 hours of sleep per night has led me to think that maybe it's not so normal.
She told me she hadn't really heard of there being a link between the Nuvaring and insomnia, but since it's hormone related--and hormones do pretty much whatever the heck they want to--it could be the problem. She asked if I had trouble sleeping during my week off the ring...but I haven't been taking that week off, because she told me not to. I'd been having some major problems when having my period--most importantly debilitating headaches--and she told me to use the ring for three weeks and then put a new one in instead of taking week off. I still get my period every other month or so while on the ring, but it's not nearly as bad as it was.
My doctor suggested I "go off" the ring and see what happens. She told me to take it out and the hormones should be out of my system in 3-4 days. She said to give it a week or so and see how I'm sleeping--she's sending me samples of a sleep aid in the meantime, thank God, sleep! If I'm still not sleeping well, then I have to go see her to figure out what's wrong. (And I can go back on the ring.)
I'm torn. I'm worried I'm going to gain weight when I stop using the ring. I'm pissed that I just got a three month supply and now I'm wasting the one I just put in last week. (On the other hand, some decent sleep sounds so good to me, I don't care about the money.) Without the birth control, I didn't have my period for over a year--frustrating considering we wanted to get pregnant during that time. We're not trying to get pregnant right now, which is one reason I haven't minded staying on the birth control. I'm not worried about getting pregnant...I'm worried that my body is too screwed up to have a normal cycle without help. It took a lot for me to get back to normal...and I know I'm worrying for nothing, because if I'm still having trouble sleeping after a week, then it will be a moot point, and I'll go back on the Ring, and not have to worry about periods or pregnancy...and then I'll worry about why I can't sleep.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Kettle Hell
Oh. My. God.
Kettlebell class...so hard.
They had 10, 15, and 20 pound Kettlebells. I picked up a 15-pounder...then put it down and picked up the 10-pound. Didn't even glance at the 20 pound weight. (Although I'm pretty sure the Hubster picked one up, then put it back and took at 15-pounder.)
Trainer Dan demonstrated some of the moves while I watched with wide eyes, shaking my head. Trainer Dan is obviously insane.
Seriously? He squatted with the weight hanging between his legs, then swung it forward, up over his head. He did WHAT? You heard me.
He sat on the ground, holding the kettlebell at his chest with his elbows out, rolled down onto his back, then shot up, raising the the weight above his head. The girl across the room from me burst out laughing at the dirty look I gave Trainer Dan.
Then the fun started. A quick warm-up with some marching, some squats, some dead-lifts. And then we picked up the weights.
Oh. My. God.
I was sweating almost immediately. And not pretty droplets on my forehead or gee, my shirt's a little wet sweating...bright red, hey look at me, I'm sweating! kind of sweating.
But I squatted. And I tilted. And I swung that damn weight. I even did the sadistic sit-ups.
Trainer Dan said that one 30 minute class can burn as many calories as an hour of Turbo Kick. Hmmm. Makes me think.
Would I do it again? Yes. Would I pay $70 for 7 weeks of once-a-week classes? Probably not?
The best part about my YMCA is that all the stuff--the track, the studios, the weights, everything--is upstairs. So at the end of my workout, when I think I'm about to die, I still have to walk down those stairs and pick up Little Sister. Tonight, I made it down two steps. Maybe. And then I grasped the railing and said, "Oh. My. God. I'm not going to make it down these stairs."
A lady coming up the steps laughed and said, "Did you just do Turbo Kick? I went to my first class last week and felt just like that!"
I laughed and told her that I do that, too. But not tonight. Oh no, that's tomorrow. If I live that long.
Kettlebell class...so hard.
They had 10, 15, and 20 pound Kettlebells. I picked up a 15-pounder...then put it down and picked up the 10-pound. Didn't even glance at the 20 pound weight. (Although I'm pretty sure the Hubster picked one up, then put it back and took at 15-pounder.)
Trainer Dan demonstrated some of the moves while I watched with wide eyes, shaking my head. Trainer Dan is obviously insane.
Seriously? He squatted with the weight hanging between his legs, then swung it forward, up over his head. He did WHAT? You heard me.
He sat on the ground, holding the kettlebell at his chest with his elbows out, rolled down onto his back, then shot up, raising the the weight above his head. The girl across the room from me burst out laughing at the dirty look I gave Trainer Dan.
Then the fun started. A quick warm-up with some marching, some squats, some dead-lifts. And then we picked up the weights.
Oh. My. God.
I was sweating almost immediately. And not pretty droplets on my forehead or gee, my shirt's a little wet sweating...bright red, hey look at me, I'm sweating! kind of sweating.
But I squatted. And I tilted. And I swung that damn weight. I even did the sadistic sit-ups.
Trainer Dan said that one 30 minute class can burn as many calories as an hour of Turbo Kick. Hmmm. Makes me think.
Would I do it again? Yes. Would I pay $70 for 7 weeks of once-a-week classes? Probably not?
The best part about my YMCA is that all the stuff--the track, the studios, the weights, everything--is upstairs. So at the end of my workout, when I think I'm about to die, I still have to walk down those stairs and pick up Little Sister. Tonight, I made it down two steps. Maybe. And then I grasped the railing and said, "Oh. My. God. I'm not going to make it down these stairs."
A lady coming up the steps laughed and said, "Did you just do Turbo Kick? I went to my first class last week and felt just like that!"
I laughed and told her that I do that, too. But not tonight. Oh no, that's tomorrow. If I live that long.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Date Night...
Not flowers and candy, followed by candle light, oysters, and hours of sex.
GIRL date night.
Catching up with my girlfriend--M, who LOVES her snazzy new nickname, by the way. Sitting and eating...God, delicious french fries, which turned out to be ENDLESS, but I only had one serving. We talked about several million topics and discovered that besides sharing a name, we have the same wedding band, the same fears, and that we are essentially the same person. We even dreamed about each other the other night--no funny business, we were competing in Iron Chef in mine and shopping at Walmart in hers...bizarre.
I had a fantastic time and hope we get to see each other more often!
I got home and discovered I'd have to walk a good two and a half miles to hit my step goal, so I hung up my pedometer at just over 5000 steps for today. (And Lindsay was out of the office today, so my beating stress phone consult got rescheduled.)
The greatest news of all is that I'm down FOUR more pounds for a total of 19!!!
The Hubster is rubbing my feet right now because they're freezing. What a guy...he must be confused as to what kind of date I had tonight.
GIRL date night.
Catching up with my girlfriend--M, who LOVES her snazzy new nickname, by the way. Sitting and eating...God, delicious french fries, which turned out to be ENDLESS, but I only had one serving. We talked about several million topics and discovered that besides sharing a name, we have the same wedding band, the same fears, and that we are essentially the same person. We even dreamed about each other the other night--no funny business, we were competing in Iron Chef in mine and shopping at Walmart in hers...bizarre.
I had a fantastic time and hope we get to see each other more often!
I got home and discovered I'd have to walk a good two and a half miles to hit my step goal, so I hung up my pedometer at just over 5000 steps for today. (And Lindsay was out of the office today, so my beating stress phone consult got rescheduled.)
The greatest news of all is that I'm down FOUR more pounds for a total of 19!!!
The Hubster is rubbing my feet right now because they're freezing. What a guy...he must be confused as to what kind of date I had tonight.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Choices
I ended up babysitting tonight for Mrs. C's three kids. Little Sister came with me and between the four of them, they were sweet and cute and funny and wild and naughty...all of those things as usual.
At bedtime, Little J tried to stall. Wanted a story...wanted a drink...wanted to play. I reminded him that he needs to get to bed because he as a big day tomorrow. He asked me why the day was so big. "Because it's your birthday party, silly!" I told him.
With that, he scampered into bed with a gigantic grin spreading across his face, telling me, "It's a HUGE day!"
A friend of mine from high school (Sorry, M, I'm tired. No cute name for you tonight) joined the YMCA recently--today, I think--and is coming to Turbo Kick with me tomorrow morning. I haven't seen her in a good 6 years or so and I'm very excited to see (and sweat with) her tomorrow morning. We're also planning dinner out next Monday after my WW meeting for a less strenuous reunion.
That said, tonight I'm left with a choice. Do I go upstairs and walk two miles on the treadmill and hit my step goal? Or do I go to bed so I'm not rushing everyone out of the house tomorrow morning? Perhaps if I had come home and changed and gone to the workout room right away, I would have been more motivated. As it stands, I think I'll take the early bedtime.
6,081 steps today. Not so fantastic. But not terrible, either.
At bedtime, Little J tried to stall. Wanted a story...wanted a drink...wanted to play. I reminded him that he needs to get to bed because he as a big day tomorrow. He asked me why the day was so big. "Because it's your birthday party, silly!" I told him.
With that, he scampered into bed with a gigantic grin spreading across his face, telling me, "It's a HUGE day!"
A friend of mine from high school (Sorry, M, I'm tired. No cute name for you tonight) joined the YMCA recently--today, I think--and is coming to Turbo Kick with me tomorrow morning. I haven't seen her in a good 6 years or so and I'm very excited to see (and sweat with) her tomorrow morning. We're also planning dinner out next Monday after my WW meeting for a less strenuous reunion.
That said, tonight I'm left with a choice. Do I go upstairs and walk two miles on the treadmill and hit my step goal? Or do I go to bed so I'm not rushing everyone out of the house tomorrow morning? Perhaps if I had come home and changed and gone to the workout room right away, I would have been more motivated. As it stands, I think I'll take the early bedtime.
6,081 steps today. Not so fantastic. But not terrible, either.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Confession Time.
I have a confession to make.
I haven't been wearing my pedometer. I know. You're shocked. I can tell.
Over the weekend, I decided I would be really good and wear it every day this week. Monday morning, when I was getting dressed, I grabbed it off the bathroom counter and clipped it to my pants...then I changed my pants.
Tuesday, I brought back into the bathroom to put it on as I was getting dressed. I didn't put it on, but carried it with me into the bedroom, where I stopped to put on some lip balm. Then I left the room without it.
Wednesday, I wore the damn thing. Today, I wore it again. WOW! Two days in a row...it's a miracle!
Wednesday, I walked 7679 steps and did Turbo Kick, which converts to 14,500. A total of: 22, 179 steps!
Today, I walked 5703 steps and did Turbo Kick for a total of 20,203 steps.
20K+ steps two days in a row? I could lay in bed and do absolutely nothing for the next two days and still get in my 10K steps a day average!
My next phone course is about beating stress. It's one I definitely need!
I haven't been wearing my pedometer. I know. You're shocked. I can tell.
Over the weekend, I decided I would be really good and wear it every day this week. Monday morning, when I was getting dressed, I grabbed it off the bathroom counter and clipped it to my pants...then I changed my pants.
Tuesday, I brought back into the bathroom to put it on as I was getting dressed. I didn't put it on, but carried it with me into the bedroom, where I stopped to put on some lip balm. Then I left the room without it.
Wednesday, I wore the damn thing. Today, I wore it again. WOW! Two days in a row...it's a miracle!
Wednesday, I walked 7679 steps and did Turbo Kick, which converts to 14,500. A total of: 22, 179 steps!
Today, I walked 5703 steps and did Turbo Kick for a total of 20,203 steps.
20K+ steps two days in a row? I could lay in bed and do absolutely nothing for the next two days and still get in my 10K steps a day average!
My next phone course is about beating stress. It's one I definitely need!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Numbers
I've always been ashamed of my weight. I lie about it on my driver's license. I refuse to be weighed at the doctor's office. I didn't own a scale for years.
The day I went to the doctor's office and found out I was pregnant--seven years ago, I weighed 247 pounds. A couple months later when I went in for my first OB appointment, I weighed 232 pounds. They yelled at me for losing so much. (Like I knew or could help it that I was throwing up every three seconds. Anyone else throw up in the doctor's office parking lot? That always seemed to be a good target for some reason.)
Over the next few months, I slowly gained back that 15 pounds. I never wanted the Hubster to look at the scale, but I know he did. (Sneaky bastard.) As I passed 247 and edged closer to 250, I got more and more nervous. I did not want to hit that number.
On what turned out to be my last OB appointment--the do-you-want-to-be-induced-in-3-days-or-in-7? appointment--I hit it. 250. I cried.
Six days after Little Sister was born, I had a wicked case of mastitis. I was throwing up in the shower sick. It was also her first doctor's appointment and I got on the scale, too. After having my seven pound, four ounce little bundle of joy, I weighed 230 pounds again. Very exciting. The doctor gave me some antibiotics and told me to keep breast feeding and said the weight would fly off.
It didn't.
230 became 250 again. 260. 274. That's the highest I ever weighed myself at, when I started Weight Watchers 3 years ago.
Those are numbers I will never see again.
274
260
250
A couple of people have asked me where I'm at now...and I know that I haven't been sharing the numbers this time around, for some reason.
It wasn't intentional. Just something I didn't think of. I'm not shy about my weight any more. I'm proud of where I've come from and what I've conquered.
When I started WW on November 3, 2008, I weighed 258.8 pounds.
At my last weigh-in, on Monday, I weighed 243.8.
More numbers I will never see again.
274
260
258.8
250
I'll never forget where I came from.
And I'll never go back.
Not this time.
The day I went to the doctor's office and found out I was pregnant--seven years ago, I weighed 247 pounds. A couple months later when I went in for my first OB appointment, I weighed 232 pounds. They yelled at me for losing so much. (Like I knew or could help it that I was throwing up every three seconds. Anyone else throw up in the doctor's office parking lot? That always seemed to be a good target for some reason.)
Over the next few months, I slowly gained back that 15 pounds. I never wanted the Hubster to look at the scale, but I know he did. (Sneaky bastard.) As I passed 247 and edged closer to 250, I got more and more nervous. I did not want to hit that number.
On what turned out to be my last OB appointment--the do-you-want-to-be-induced-in-3-days-or-in-7? appointment--I hit it. 250. I cried.
Six days after Little Sister was born, I had a wicked case of mastitis. I was throwing up in the shower sick. It was also her first doctor's appointment and I got on the scale, too. After having my seven pound, four ounce little bundle of joy, I weighed 230 pounds again. Very exciting. The doctor gave me some antibiotics and told me to keep breast feeding and said the weight would fly off.
It didn't.
230 became 250 again. 260. 274. That's the highest I ever weighed myself at, when I started Weight Watchers 3 years ago.
Those are numbers I will never see again.
A couple of people have asked me where I'm at now...and I know that I haven't been sharing the numbers this time around, for some reason.
It wasn't intentional. Just something I didn't think of. I'm not shy about my weight any more. I'm proud of where I've come from and what I've conquered.
When I started WW on November 3, 2008, I weighed 258.8 pounds.
At my last weigh-in, on Monday, I weighed 243.8.
More numbers I will never see again.
I'll never forget where I came from.
And I'll never go back.
Not this time.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Positive Thinking
I know I come across as kind of negative.
There are lots of things about myself that I absolutely hate.
My stupid, crooked nose.
My freckles.
My stomach.
I'm trying to be more positive about...things. About myself. About everything.
On that note, here are somethings that I like about myself. Things, I've decided, that I will think about more often.
I have the bluest eyes ever.
I have a nice complexion.
I have really, super thick hair.
That's enough for now...I'm having a hard time of thinking of things that don't have qualifiers. (I like my nails but they grow crooked because of damage to my nail beds when I was young.)
I'm trying to be positive. I know I can do this.
This time.
There are lots of things about myself that I absolutely hate.
My stupid, crooked nose.
My freckles.
My stomach.
I'm trying to be more positive about...things. About myself. About everything.
On that note, here are somethings that I like about myself. Things, I've decided, that I will think about more often.
I have the bluest eyes ever.
I have a nice complexion.
I have really, super thick hair.
That's enough for now...I'm having a hard time of thinking of things that don't have qualifiers. (I like my nails but they grow crooked because of damage to my nail beds when I was young.)
I'm trying to be positive. I know I can do this.
This time.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Guilt
I had my Weight Watchers meeting tonight.
I gained, which irritates the heck out of me since I worked so darn hard this past week. I know I'll do better, though...it's a process. (And it SUCKS!)
After the meeting, I went to the grocery store to buy a few taco necessities. As I bagged my tortilla shells, cheese, and sour cream, I realized that the woman standing in line behind me had just sat behind me at the Weight Watcher's meeting. Oh God, I thought. Please don't let her recognize me.
When she came down to bag her groceries (This is the only state I've ever lived in where I had to bag my own groceries!) she smiled at me. "Hello again." Damn.
"Hi..." I took in her case of water, bags of frozen veggies, and other WW paraphernalia. "Don't look at my taco stuff."
She laughed. "Don't worry. I won't tell."
It's Monday night and I've starved all day, hoping for a good number on the scale. If I want tacos, I'll have tacos, consequences be damned. (Until next Monday, that is, when I'm pissed about my weigh-in again.)
I gained, which irritates the heck out of me since I worked so darn hard this past week. I know I'll do better, though...it's a process. (And it SUCKS!)
After the meeting, I went to the grocery store to buy a few taco necessities. As I bagged my tortilla shells, cheese, and sour cream, I realized that the woman standing in line behind me had just sat behind me at the Weight Watcher's meeting. Oh God, I thought. Please don't let her recognize me.
When she came down to bag her groceries (This is the only state I've ever lived in where I had to bag my own groceries!) she smiled at me. "Hello again." Damn.
"Hi..." I took in her case of water, bags of frozen veggies, and other WW paraphernalia. "Don't look at my taco stuff."
She laughed. "Don't worry. I won't tell."
It's Monday night and I've starved all day, hoping for a good number on the scale. If I want tacos, I'll have tacos, consequences be damned. (Until next Monday, that is, when I'm pissed about my weigh-in again.)
Sunday, January 25, 2009
My Cup No Longer Runeth Over
I went shopping today.
It was awesome. I love spending time with old friends and catching up.
We went to LB and I got measured for a new bra--I went down TWO cup sizes! That's CRAZY! I never lose weight in that area. It was so exciting to be able to buy a bra at the store and bring it home instead of special ordering and having it sent to me. I also got some cute panties (I love that word!) and a nice shirt--because some of mine are starting to look a little...sack-like. Between the two of us, we spent $105, but we SAVED $217--which is a way more important number!
We went into a couple of other stores...I'm looking forward to being a weight where we can try on the same clothes. There were a couple of things she picked out that were really cute, but I knew I could never squeeze into them. Some day...sooner, rather than later, I hope.
I made it to the shoe store, too. I grabbed a handful of shoes in different styles to try on and sat down. KB scouted the store and then came to check on me. She told me she saw a bunch of tennis shoes on clearance and asked if she should bring some over. She returned with a huge stack of boxes, which I sorted through and sent some of them back with her. I ended up with two pairs--some New Balance runners, which are suspiciously like my old ones, but pink, and a pair of VERY comfortable Dr. Scholl's walking shoes.
The best part is, when I got home, I slipped on my new running shoes and headed upstairs to the workout room. I walked a faster pace for 10 minutes, then did some weights, then walked a slower pace at a level 6 incline--my booty is killing me! I did some more weights and then came home.
I'm nervous about tomorrow's weigh-in. I try not to obsess about the scale during the week, but it's hard not to step up there a few timesa day. This morning, I weighed a full NINE pounds more than I did last Monday night. We ate Chinese food last night, but I certainly didn't eat NINE pounds of it. What's the deal?
It was awesome. I love spending time with old friends and catching up.
We went to LB and I got measured for a new bra--I went down TWO cup sizes! That's CRAZY! I never lose weight in that area. It was so exciting to be able to buy a bra at the store and bring it home instead of special ordering and having it sent to me. I also got some cute panties (I love that word!) and a nice shirt--because some of mine are starting to look a little...sack-like. Between the two of us, we spent $105, but we SAVED $217--which is a way more important number!
We went into a couple of other stores...I'm looking forward to being a weight where we can try on the same clothes. There were a couple of things she picked out that were really cute, but I knew I could never squeeze into them. Some day...sooner, rather than later, I hope.
I made it to the shoe store, too. I grabbed a handful of shoes in different styles to try on and sat down. KB scouted the store and then came to check on me. She told me she saw a bunch of tennis shoes on clearance and asked if she should bring some over. She returned with a huge stack of boxes, which I sorted through and sent some of them back with her. I ended up with two pairs--some New Balance runners, which are suspiciously like my old ones, but pink, and a pair of VERY comfortable Dr. Scholl's walking shoes.
The best part is, when I got home, I slipped on my new running shoes and headed upstairs to the workout room. I walked a faster pace for 10 minutes, then did some weights, then walked a slower pace at a level 6 incline--my booty is killing me! I did some more weights and then came home.
I'm nervous about tomorrow's weigh-in. I try not to obsess about the scale during the week, but it's hard not to step up there a few times
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Unable to Wait
One of my early weight-loss goals was to buy myself a pair of new running shoes once I lost 25 pounds.
See, I worked at a shoe store in high school and I have kind of a...problem. I love shoes. I'm obsessed with them, really. I can't say no. Really, buy-one-get-one half off? The Hubster, Big Sister, and Little Sister all get a new pair...and I get three. I'm not kidding, either. Not that any one else in my family is hurting for shoes...Big Sister could wear a different pair every day for at least two weeks and Little Sis has a whole new wardrobe once she hits the next size up--I heart garage sales! The Hubster kind of gets the shaft, though...he's rough on his shoes so he gets limited to thrift stores and a new pair just every once in a while.
Running shoes are different. I tend to use the heck out of them and wear them until they're just about falling apart before I force myself into a new pair. And I'm picky about them. They must be light-weight. Must be cushioned. Must fit both of my feet--a difficult task with one foot longer and the other one fatter...I feel like both of the ugly step-sisters when I'm trying on shoes.
I know way too much about them, too. I'm ashamed to admit that I was a big dork--oh, wait, you knew that already? Damn. I thought I hid it so well--and I spent every break for five years in the back room reading information sent to us by manufacturers. (Minus the breaks where I was off flirting with the man who became the Hubster.) Cross trainers for aerobics? Look for grooves on the sole which allow for better stability and wear for quick, side-to-side movements. Walking? Look for a shoe that provides lots of cushioning. Runners? Look for a light-weight shoe with shock absorbing foam. Kids shoes? Don't buy them too big, hoping to outsmart a growth spurt--shoes that don't fit right will wear faster, and you'll end up buying a new pair before Junior outgrows them, anyway!
Anyway. On to my shoes. My beautiful shoes. I can't wait another 7.2 pounds. I need them NOW. We were stomping in Turbo Kick this morning, and I felt a sharp pain shoot up my shin. I started thinking about my shoes. I hadn't exactly been active until the latter part of 2008, so I haven't really been wearing out the running shoes left and right. I bought these last March, before our trip to Texas. These shoes carried me through Sea World, saw me cry in the Alamo, and shopped with me on the Riverwalk. They came with me to Florida and took me through Disney's Animal Kingdom, Magic Kingdom, and Hollywood Studios. They carried me in the rain to the Renaissance Festival last summer. They helped me through my first Turbo Kick class, stumbled through my first (and only!) Body Step class, and watched me from afar as I did Yoga, PiYo, and Body Flow--barefoot! They carried me many miles on the bike and the treadmill...through the grocery store, to orthodontist appointments, and to work on Fridays. These shoes have seen a lot.
But it's time.
I have a shopping date tomorrow with one of my best girlfriends. I'm planning on getting measured for a fancy new bra to celebrate losing 15 pounds...and I will also *sigh* be shopping for new running shoes.
See, I worked at a shoe store in high school and I have kind of a...problem. I love shoes. I'm obsessed with them, really. I can't say no. Really, buy-one-get-one half off? The Hubster, Big Sister, and Little Sister all get a new pair...and I get three. I'm not kidding, either. Not that any one else in my family is hurting for shoes...Big Sister could wear a different pair every day for at least two weeks and Little Sis has a whole new wardrobe once she hits the next size up--I heart garage sales! The Hubster kind of gets the shaft, though...he's rough on his shoes so he gets limited to thrift stores and a new pair just every once in a while.
Running shoes are different. I tend to use the heck out of them and wear them until they're just about falling apart before I force myself into a new pair. And I'm picky about them. They must be light-weight. Must be cushioned. Must fit both of my feet--a difficult task with one foot longer and the other one fatter...I feel like both of the ugly step-sisters when I'm trying on shoes.
I know way too much about them, too. I'm ashamed to admit that I was a big dork--oh, wait, you knew that already? Damn. I thought I hid it so well--and I spent every break for five years in the back room reading information sent to us by manufacturers. (Minus the breaks where I was off flirting with the man who became the Hubster.) Cross trainers for aerobics? Look for grooves on the sole which allow for better stability and wear for quick, side-to-side movements. Walking? Look for a shoe that provides lots of cushioning. Runners? Look for a light-weight shoe with shock absorbing foam. Kids shoes? Don't buy them too big, hoping to outsmart a growth spurt--shoes that don't fit right will wear faster, and you'll end up buying a new pair before Junior outgrows them, anyway!
Anyway. On to my shoes. My beautiful shoes. I can't wait another 7.2 pounds. I need them NOW. We were stomping in Turbo Kick this morning, and I felt a sharp pain shoot up my shin. I started thinking about my shoes. I hadn't exactly been active until the latter part of 2008, so I haven't really been wearing out the running shoes left and right. I bought these last March, before our trip to Texas. These shoes carried me through Sea World, saw me cry in the Alamo, and shopped with me on the Riverwalk. They came with me to Florida and took me through Disney's Animal Kingdom, Magic Kingdom, and Hollywood Studios. They carried me in the rain to the Renaissance Festival last summer. They helped me through my first Turbo Kick class, stumbled through my first (and only!) Body Step class, and watched me from afar as I did Yoga, PiYo, and Body Flow--barefoot! They carried me many miles on the bike and the treadmill...through the grocery store, to orthodontist appointments, and to work on Fridays. These shoes have seen a lot.
But it's time.
I have a shopping date tomorrow with one of my best girlfriends. I'm planning on getting measured for a fancy new bra to celebrate losing 15 pounds...and I will also *sigh* be shopping for new running shoes.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Sweet Dreams...
Last night...I was tired. Dragging myself out of my recliner and into bed was a huge accomplishment. (One which involved knocking over a glass of water onto Little Sister's homework, of course.) When I got to bed, I turned on the TV to watch my super-secret-favorite show and climbed under the covers.
Since my eyes were already drooping, I took off my glasses and just listened for a few minutes. I was so close, I decided I would just miss my show and get some sleep.
Ten seconds later, I was out like a light. But I could hear music. Where was that music coming from? And I was moving. Lunge. Knee. Lunge. Kick. Lunge. Knee--Oops! I lost my shoe!
I sat up in bed.
Oh. My. God.
Turbo Kicking in my SLEEP.
What's wrong with me?
Since my eyes were already drooping, I took off my glasses and just listened for a few minutes. I was so close, I decided I would just miss my show and get some sleep.
Ten seconds later, I was out like a light. But I could hear music. Where was that music coming from? And I was moving. Lunge. Knee. Lunge. Kick. Lunge. Knee--Oops! I lost my shoe!
I sat up in bed.
Oh. My. God.
Turbo Kicking in my SLEEP.
What's wrong with me?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Ow. Ow...Ow.
I was sitting at my desk earlier today, innocently minding my own business when I had a thought.
I think I'll go to Turbo Kick tonight.
WHAT?!?! But it's Thursday! I just went YESTERDAY! I don't have to go again until Saturday!
But I want to.
Seriously? What is my problem?
So I called up the Hubster. "Hey. I want to go to Turbo Kick tonight."
"Again?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." (He's so easy, I love him.)
And so we went. We got there early and made it seven laps around the track...A few minutes before class started, we congregated at the door with a bunch of fellow Turbo Kickers. Turbo Jennie was there, too, and gave us a confused look. "Didn't you say, 'see you Saturday?'"
"Yeah. I did...but I'm a psycho." I figured that about summed it up.
About 20 minutes in, she asked me if I regretted my decision. I shook my head, unable to speak, my face already flaming red. "Oh, yes, you do," she said, "I can tell."
I laughed, as much as I could, anyway. She was right. I was tired and puffing and ready to fall over. But I stayed. And I made it. Until the ab track--excuse me, the EXTENDED ab track. My gut was already killing me from yesterday's extended track, so every crunch was like a knife in my midsection. It hurts when I sneeze. When I laugh. When I move. Ugh. (I just sneezed. Ow.)
And after Turbo, I finished my three laps around the track for a mile. Pretty darn good workout.
Turbo three times in one week. (Yes, I'm already counting Saturday. I get to.) I want to be down 30 pounds by the end of March. It's less than 2 pounds a week away...I know I can do it. I also know I need to step up the exercise.
I'm ready.
To be healthy.
To be stronger.
To be happy.
Let's move it!
I think I'll go to Turbo Kick tonight.
WHAT?!?! But it's Thursday! I just went YESTERDAY! I don't have to go again until Saturday!
But I want to.
Seriously? What is my problem?
So I called up the Hubster. "Hey. I want to go to Turbo Kick tonight."
"Again?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." (He's so easy, I love him.)
And so we went. We got there early and made it seven laps around the track...A few minutes before class started, we congregated at the door with a bunch of fellow Turbo Kickers. Turbo Jennie was there, too, and gave us a confused look. "Didn't you say, 'see you Saturday?'"
"Yeah. I did...but I'm a psycho." I figured that about summed it up.
About 20 minutes in, she asked me if I regretted my decision. I shook my head, unable to speak, my face already flaming red. "Oh, yes, you do," she said, "I can tell."
I laughed, as much as I could, anyway. She was right. I was tired and puffing and ready to fall over. But I stayed. And I made it. Until the ab track--excuse me, the EXTENDED ab track. My gut was already killing me from yesterday's extended track, so every crunch was like a knife in my midsection. It hurts when I sneeze. When I laugh. When I move. Ugh. (I just sneezed. Ow.)
And after Turbo, I finished my three laps around the track for a mile. Pretty darn good workout.
Turbo three times in one week. (Yes, I'm already counting Saturday. I get to.) I want to be down 30 pounds by the end of March. It's less than 2 pounds a week away...I know I can do it. I also know I need to step up the exercise.
I'm ready.
To be healthy.
To be stronger.
To be happy.
Let's move it!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Trouble with Metformin
Years ago, I was diagnosed with poly-cystic ovarian syndrome and my doctor put me on Metformin. It's a medication that diabetics take to help control hyperglycemia. When I list it in the medications I'm currently taking doctors, nurses, and dental hygienists alike immediately assume I have diabetes. (Right, like I forgot to mention that.) One actually had the nerve to ask me, "Have you been diagnosed with diabetes yet?" Excuse me, "yet?" Rude.
I have an on again/off again relationship with the drug. The first doctor who prescribed it moved me up the dosage ladder too quickly. All of a sudden, I was taking 1500mg a day and getting dizzy spells. When I knocked it back to 1000mg, I felt much better. I was supposed to move back up to 1500mg, but never made it because I stopped taking it. When I finally admitted to my doctor that I'd stopped taking it, she asked me why.
It has the unpleasant side effect of...let me go look up the medical term...Ah, once again, Wikipedia says it so much better than I could: The most common adverse effect of metformin is gastrointestinal upset, including diarrhea, cramps, nausea, vomiting and increased flatulence. I didn't realize that's what was causing my...problems until I noticed that those problems were gone. Then I was reluctant (obviously) to start taking it again. When I mentioned it to my doctor, I asked her if I really need to take it. Is it doing anything? Is it going to help me lose weight? She laughed and said most people lose weight while taking it because they get diarrhea. So I sighed and rolled my eyes and said I would take it. (That was in August. I took it, too...for about three weeks.)
I know I should follow my doctor's advice and take the medication. But when the side effects are so distressing, it's a hard to do the right thing.
I have an on again/off again relationship with the drug. The first doctor who prescribed it moved me up the dosage ladder too quickly. All of a sudden, I was taking 1500mg a day and getting dizzy spells. When I knocked it back to 1000mg, I felt much better. I was supposed to move back up to 1500mg, but never made it because I stopped taking it. When I finally admitted to my doctor that I'd stopped taking it, she asked me why.
It has the unpleasant side effect of...let me go look up the medical term...Ah, once again, Wikipedia says it so much better than I could: The most common adverse effect of metformin is gastrointestinal upset, including diarrhea, cramps, nausea, vomiting and increased flatulence. I didn't realize that's what was causing my...problems until I noticed that those problems were gone. Then I was reluctant (obviously) to start taking it again. When I mentioned it to my doctor, I asked her if I really need to take it. Is it doing anything? Is it going to help me lose weight? She laughed and said most people lose weight while taking it because they get diarrhea. So I sighed and rolled my eyes and said I would take it. (That was in August. I took it, too...for about three weeks.)
I know I should follow my doctor's advice and take the medication. But when the side effects are so distressing, it's a hard to do the right thing.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Devil Sells Thin Mints
Every year brings the same old-same old New Year's Resolution.
Eat Better.
Exercise more.
Lose Weight.
The Hubster's birthday comes early and I get by, eating baked fish and broccoli. Valentine's Day comes and I open the cards and throw the candy away.
Easter comes and I look away from the candy and cry myself to sleep at night.
And then come the Girl Scouts.
I do pretty well. I think I got by with two or three during last year's diet. Not-a-one the three years before that.
This year, though, is different.
This year, both of my girl are selling Girl Scout cookies.
Samoas.
Tag-a-longs.
Thin mints.
Heaven help me.
(And please email me if you'd like to order!)
Eat Better.
Exercise more.
Lose Weight.
The Hubster's birthday comes early and I get by, eating baked fish and broccoli. Valentine's Day comes and I open the cards and throw the candy away.
Easter comes and I look away from the candy and cry myself to sleep at night.
And then come the Girl Scouts.
I do pretty well. I think I got by with two or three during last year's diet. Not-a-one the three years before that.
This year, though, is different.
This year, both of my girl are selling Girl Scout cookies.
Samoas.
Tag-a-longs.
Thin mints.
Heaven help me.
(And please email me if you'd like to order!)
Monday, January 19, 2009
Slowly but Surely
At my Weight Watcher's meeting tonight, we had a substitue leader. She was actually subbing the first two weeks I started WW, way back in November. At the end of the meeting, she came up to me and asked me how I was doing since I started. She remembered me and said I looked great and asked how much I've lost.
Down 16.8 pounds tonight!
(Of course, I'm fairly certain at least half a pound of it was hair..)
It was nice to hear a compliment from someone I don't see every day. If there's anothing I've learned from this run of WW, it's that it works. I know it does. It's ME. I have to stick to it...even if it's slow, it's better than nothing. Slowly but surely.
I wore my pedometer today! Of course, I took it off when I changed after my meeting so I can't give a step count. It's around 6,000, though. Not fabulous, but I was really busy today, too. Spent a lot of time at my desk finding ways to tell patients to provide their own medical care if they don't want to pay us. Ha! I only wish I could say that. At least once I day I think of this joke:
A well known rich businessman's wife broke her hip. The businessman got the best bone surgeon in town to do the operation. The operation consisted of lining up the broken hip and putting in a screw to secure it. The operation went fine, and the doctor sent the business man a fee for his services of $5000. The businessman was outraged at the cost, and sent the doctor a letter demanding an itemized list of the costs. The doctor sent back a list with two things: 1 screw: $1. Knowing how to put it in: $4999.
Down 16.8 pounds tonight!
(Of course, I'm fairly certain at least half a pound of it was hair..)
It was nice to hear a compliment from someone I don't see every day. If there's anothing I've learned from this run of WW, it's that it works. I know it does. It's ME. I have to stick to it...even if it's slow, it's better than nothing. Slowly but surely.
I wore my pedometer today! Of course, I took it off when I changed after my meeting so I can't give a step count. It's around 6,000, though. Not fabulous, but I was really busy today, too. Spent a lot of time at my desk finding ways to tell patients to provide their own medical care if they don't want to pay us. Ha! I only wish I could say that. At least once I day I think of this joke:
A well known rich businessman's wife broke her hip. The businessman got the best bone surgeon in town to do the operation. The operation consisted of lining up the broken hip and putting in a screw to secure it. The operation went fine, and the doctor sent the business man a fee for his services of $5000. The businessman was outraged at the cost, and sent the doctor a letter demanding an itemized list of the costs. The doctor sent back a list with two things: 1 screw: $1. Knowing how to put it in: $4999.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Angry Eyes
I hate it when my weekend turns out to be more hectic than I planned.
Saturday morning, we went to the Y where I turbo-kicked the Hubster. He is rarely doing what we're supposed to be doing and when I went to back kick--yes, I LOOKED--he was right there. It wasn't so much me kicking him as him running into me while I was kicking. (I just typed cooking. I'm starving but have to weigh in tomorrow so I'm going with a light dinner. Ick.)
Saturday night brought my office holiday party at a dinner theatre. The drive was long, the food was horrid, and we didn't stay for the show. I hesitated about going this year, but now I know for sure we won't attend the next one if they don't change the venue.
I woke up this morning to a crying baby. I thought at first that it was Little Sister, so I hauled myself out of bed and listened at her door. I could hear her snoring softly (she gets that from her dad!) so I went back to bed. There was a definite "maaaaaamaaaaaa..." embedded in the cries, so I know it wasn't the new baby down the hall. I heard it again later, but still couldn't identify where it was coming from.
Little Sister had a play date with a BOY from her class today. We met at an indoor play place and they had tons of fun. They were arm-in-arm adorable. (Although I kept recalling the picture Mrs. C showed me of friends of hers who met in Kindergarten and are now MARRIED. Yikes!)
After our play date, Little Sis and I went for haircuts. The first place had an hour and a half wait, so we drove to another place, which turned out to be closed. I called the Hubster for directions to another place, but the website listed conflicting information, so I ended up driving all over town. When I finally found a place that was open and could see both of us, there was a 40 minute wait. Since I'd been waiting all afternoon--plus the months and months I've been meaning to get a haircut--I decided 40 minutes wasn't so bad. Of course, when I finally got home three and a half hours after our play date ended, I realized I should have just gone to the first place and waited an hour and a half.
I like my new cut, but I hated the way she styled it so I came home and took a shower right away...not only to get out all the gunk she put in it, but also to get all the little hairs off of me. (I don't like stuff by my neck, so I made her close the drape loosely and ended up with hair everywhere...my own fault, I know.) Now I'm waiting for it to dry so I can see what it will really look like.
Six o'clock on Sunday evening and I have to work tomorrow. I didn't get half of anything I wanted to do this weekend done, and now I'm sitting here blogging about how I haven't worn my damn pedometer...oh, did I forget to mention that part? Yeah. The goodness the Hubster did laundry while I was gone so I won't have to call in naked to work tomorrow.
Also, I got my eyebrows waxed, so I've got lovely pink angry eyes. It's a good look. Really.
Saturday morning, we went to the Y where I turbo-kicked the Hubster. He is rarely doing what we're supposed to be doing and when I went to back kick--yes, I LOOKED--he was right there. It wasn't so much me kicking him as him running into me while I was kicking. (I just typed cooking. I'm starving but have to weigh in tomorrow so I'm going with a light dinner. Ick.)
Saturday night brought my office holiday party at a dinner theatre. The drive was long, the food was horrid, and we didn't stay for the show. I hesitated about going this year, but now I know for sure we won't attend the next one if they don't change the venue.
I woke up this morning to a crying baby. I thought at first that it was Little Sister, so I hauled myself out of bed and listened at her door. I could hear her snoring softly (she gets that from her dad!) so I went back to bed. There was a definite "maaaaaamaaaaaa..." embedded in the cries, so I know it wasn't the new baby down the hall. I heard it again later, but still couldn't identify where it was coming from.
Little Sister had a play date with a BOY from her class today. We met at an indoor play place and they had tons of fun. They were arm-in-arm adorable. (Although I kept recalling the picture Mrs. C showed me of friends of hers who met in Kindergarten and are now MARRIED. Yikes!)
After our play date, Little Sis and I went for haircuts. The first place had an hour and a half wait, so we drove to another place, which turned out to be closed. I called the Hubster for directions to another place, but the website listed conflicting information, so I ended up driving all over town. When I finally found a place that was open and could see both of us, there was a 40 minute wait. Since I'd been waiting all afternoon--plus the months and months I've been meaning to get a haircut--I decided 40 minutes wasn't so bad. Of course, when I finally got home three and a half hours after our play date ended, I realized I should have just gone to the first place and waited an hour and a half.
I like my new cut, but I hated the way she styled it so I came home and took a shower right away...not only to get out all the gunk she put in it, but also to get all the little hairs off of me. (I don't like stuff by my neck, so I made her close the drape loosely and ended up with hair everywhere...my own fault, I know.) Now I'm waiting for it to dry so I can see what it will really look like.
Six o'clock on Sunday evening and I have to work tomorrow. I didn't get half of anything I wanted to do this weekend done, and now I'm sitting here blogging about how I haven't worn my damn pedometer...oh, did I forget to mention that part? Yeah. The goodness the Hubster did laundry while I was gone so I won't have to call in naked to work tomorrow.
Also, I got my eyebrows waxed, so I've got lovely pink angry eyes. It's a good look. Really.
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