Starting Monday…a journey to the finish…

Well, it’s been a month already.  Can you believe February starts on Friday?  Yeah, neither can I.   What have I done this month…to work towards my goals of my new “revolution.”

Not much.

Ok, I guess a little.

I have sucessfully reached  day 29 of not smoking.  And believe me, it hasn’t been easy.  Not in the least.  I had my period last week..my first one without smoking (in 10 years)…to say I was a little over the edge…well, that’s an understatement.  My co-workers were afraid to walk past my desk with fear of fire randomly flying out of my mouth, and setting them ablaze.

Can’t say that I blamed them.

But, I made it through.

As for the weight loss..well, it hasn’t happened so far.  As one of you fine folks so graciously suggested, I focused on the quitting smoking, and not so much the eating aspect of things.  (Err…actually I focused on food more than ever…especially things like cake, cookies…anything with that sweet legal street drug known as sugar…)

But, what’s done is done.  I’ve started focusing on my eating again, and so far, things have been good.  All the while, the exercise has been there.  Regardless of what else is going on  in my life, I still manage to go to the gym.

Weird, isn’t it?

I’ve always been a morning exerciser..getting to the gym at 6:30am and squeezing in as much as I could before I had to race home, get showered and dressed, and get my happy ass to hell…ahem…work I mean.  I hate doing anything after work..especially in the drudgery of Chicago winters.  I’m a freakin bear…I just want to hibernate.

I made a discovery today.  A rather important one.  Listen carefully.

I couldn’t get out of bed this morning, so I skipped the gym.  I got more sleep, and I felt great throughout the day.  I ended up working out after work…and TA DA..it was great.  I wasn’t rushed.  I didn’t have to dread rushing home and getting ready for work.  I could go at my own pace and enjoy it…not make it such a chore.

Crazy, ain’t it?

Oh, and here’s the icing on the cake….I came home with ass-loads of energy.  I cleaned the kitchen…did dishes…mopped the kitchen and dining room floors…paid bills, and after this, I’ll be cleaning out my closet.

Oh, and one more thing…

I WASN’T SITTING ON THE COUCH WATCHING TV, FEELING TEMPTED TO SNACK.  IT’S A FREAKIN’ MIRACLE I TELL YOU!!

Kelly, you amaze yourself sometimes.

Ok, one more revelation for the day, because this one has been a long time coming, and I need to put it into writing before I forget.

“A lifestyle change is not something you do with that attitude of ‘if it’s convenient.’  A lifestyle change is something that you take on full force, and let the details fall around that.” –Me.
Or something to that effect.

I realized this tonight, at the gym.  Yeah, I could squeeze in some morning (and half-assed) workouts, but why?  I need to spend the time acutally working towards my goal, and giving it my all.  I’ve been feeling very un-motivated as of late.   I’ve been reading everybody’s blogs, and seeing all of this success, and feeling worse about myself.

And then it dawned on me.  Focus.  Apply yourself.  Give it your all.

Duh.

I think we make this harder than it actually is people.

To a better February..

I made a friend this morning.  Her name was Cuddie.  We met by fate, as I almost ran her over with my car.  =)

 So I’m pulling into the parking lot of the rec, when I see this huge Golden Lab running out in front of my car.  I carefully pull into a parking spot, get out of the car, and take a look around for her.  To my dismay, I don’t see her, and go about gathering my water bottle and going in for my workout.  A second later, I hear this bat out of hell come running towards me…I look to my left, and see this giant dog jump past me, into my car!

Ok…?

So, being the softy that I am, I get back into the car, turn it on, not wanting my guest to be cold.  (It was about 15 degrees this morning).  I take a look at her tags, and they tell me her name is Cuddie. 

“Cuddie, sit still, I need the phone# off of your tags so I can call your Mom.” I plead with her.

Yeah, she knew what I was saying.  This dog sat still while I called her “Mom.” 

Mom: (very frantically, I might add) “Hello?”

Me: “Hi…I have your dog.  We’re sitting in my car right now at the rec center on Finley.” 

Mom: ”You do?  Oh thank God.  What kind of color is your car?  Are you parked in front or back?”

Me:  “It’s black…and I’m in the front lot.  We’re just sitting here chilling, listening to Eric and Kathy.”  (It’s a morning talk-show here in Chi-Town.)

Mom: ”Thank you so much…we’ll be right over.”

So, Miss Cuddie and I sat in the car and chatted for a few minutes.  To be honest, she wasn’t much of a talker.  She seemed to be having more fun jumping from the front seat to the back seat, and back again.  She was a pretty cool chick though…in fact, we even had the same color hair.

A few minutes later, Cuddie’s Dad and pajama clad big sister came to pick her up.  They were extremely appreciative of my actions…and thanked me numerous times.  Cuddie flew out of my car when she saw them arrive, and jumped right into her own.  In seconds, they were gone. 

A little bit of kindness goes a long way.  Miss Cuddie put smile a on my face for the day, as I’m sure I did for that family.  It’s definitely the little things in life that make the most difference.

Thanks Cuddie.

Alright all of you non-believers, I dragged my ass out shopping Friday night (Lane Bryant and Target all in one night Kelly?  You wild woman you. )…and I bought some Kool-Aid.  (And not the cheap stuff, mind you.  I bought the real thing.)  I brought it home, and in anxious anticipation, made up a batch before I even put the rest of my groceries away.

Kool-Aid + Stevia = heavenly goodness.

Yup, it really does taste good…try it, you won’t be disappointed. As for the measurements, I just kept dumping it in until it tasted good…roughly 1/3c or so.  Who knows…it always tastes different when you’re tasting it off of the wooden mixing spoon, ya know?

Now, back to my other visit from Friday….Lane Bryant.

Ok, I had a $50.00 gift card from Christmas…and had received a flyer advertising some great clearance sales, so I decided to make a visit after work.

Sigh.

Where do I begin with what’s wrong with this store?

Let me start with describing mine.  The one I visit is in Oak Brook, IL.  Oak Brook is a VERY rich town…full of old money…oh yeah, and home to one of America’s favorites:  McDonalds Corporation is headquartered in Oak Brook, IL.  (Right down the block from Lane Bryant.  Coincidence?  Hmmm…)  So, my LB is filled with rich, fat women.  (And me…I come from the other side of the tracks…sometimes they let my kind in there.  Kidding.)

Alright folks, what the fuck is wrong with this store?  I walked around that place for a good 25 minutes before I found something even REMOTELY attractive.  I mean, seriously.  Some of these hideous patterns and designs…it looks like somebod paid Omar the Tentmaker to design for the store.  Ugh.  I just don’t know where they get off thinking  plus sized women would want to be seen in public in some of this crap.  Now, I’m no fashionista, believe me.  I’m currently sitting in a green t-shirt that says “Take me for a Ride,” and a red pair of sweatpants that have my old college logo on the butt.  (It’s Sunday…I’m in my PJ’s…you all understand.)  But I know better than to walk around with giant freaking Cargo pants, wedge shoes..and a paisley, houdstooth tie-dyed halter top that in all reality looks like somebody vomited on it.  Please. Give me a t-shirt and jeans any day.

But the worst…

The worst of the worst…

THE UNDERWEAR BINS!!

Oh don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.  Those ever familiar tall, clear plastic octagon shaped bins filled with the leftover excrement of underwear that nobody in their right mind would ever dare pay full price for.

Those.

Being the cheap ass that I am, I dug through them…in hopes of finding something halfway decent and comfortable.

Ha, what in the name of Pete was I thinking?

I found this one black lacy number that had strings…hooks…buttons.  I wasn’t sure if it was underwear, or some kind of medieval torture device.

And then…my favorite…

The red panties (lace…semi-cute) had a string and two giant ping-pong sized cotton balls hanging off the back.  Now let me ask you this; where do you put said cotton balls if you actually decide to wear these under a pair of jeans, or something?  Do you let them hang out the back, as if you had a tail?   Or do you tuck them..you know…down yonder, and pray that the cotton doesn’t get in the way of anything important?

Maybe I come from a more simple time (I’m 26, I don’t.)…maybe I’m old fashioned or something…but I guess I’ll just never understand some of the things you’ll find in the underwear bins at LB.  Or half of their inventory, to boot.

So what did I walk out of their with, you ask?

A plain black bra…a blue long sleeved t-shirt….a black tank top..

And 5 pairs of NORMAL underwear from the bin.

Nothing with a tail for me, thanks.

I drink a ton of water.  At least 100 oz a day.  I shoot for 125, but that’s REALLY hard.  I don’t drink regular pop, for obvious reasons. I’ve quit all diet pop (I’m from Chicago, don’t forget that.  It’s Pop to us…soda to pretty much everybody else in the free world!)…Crystal Lite.  In short, I’ve quit all artificial sweetners, including Splenda, Aspartame, and whatever is in the pink packet…saccharin, I believe.  All of that crap is pure poison, and will kill you quicker than sugar.  So I’m completely stuck.  After a while, I get really tired of drinking water…and I want something else…especially at lunch and dinner.  AND I want it to be calorie free.  I’m killing myself on tea, too.  To replace the sweetners and sugar, I started using Stevia, a natural sweetner made from a plant.  It’s not bad…different…not nearly as sweet as the ”poison,” but you get used to it.  Perhaps I could buy some old school Kool-Aid packets, and make some of my own with the Stevia.  Hmmm..that’s an idea.

 Let me know if you folks have any ideas for me!

 (Oh yeah…and they have this silly rule about not being able to drink beer at work.  So, I’ve unfortunately had to scratch that one off of my list as well.  I personally think that I’d be a hell of a lot more productive…but the suits tend to disagree.) 

So I was standing in the shower this morning…and when I’m feeling a bit crazy, I’ll turn the radio on. (We’re hillbillies like that…we keep a little radio on the back of the toilet.)

As I’m doing my thing, the news segment begins, and the announcer says, “Abortion rates are at the lowest they’ve been in 30 years.”

I think to myself, “I wonder how much they used to cost?”

I’m not kidding.

And then a moment later I realized what he meant.

Me <—- Biggest geek ever.

Does anybody know anything about brain tumors?  Know anybody who has had one?  What were/are the symptoms?  Any info anybody has would be greatly appreciated. 

Thanks!

Well folks, it’s day 14 of not smoking. 14 frickin days….can you believe it? Yeah, neither can I. I think I’m over the worst of it, and feel as though I’ve come to a point where I don’t need to be constantly snacking to make up for that oral fixation that smoking provided. (Don’t ask what the bf suggested to overcome that problem…boys…they’re gross!) In fact, I passed the ultimate test this past Saturday night; I went to a bar. I had one drink (vodka and cranberry)…and didn’t smoke. Now that Illinois has gone non-smoking, it wasn’t really that hard. In fact, I went outside with the bf and everybody else when they smoked, and it wasn’t horrible. I was tempted, don’t get me wrong…but there was something inside of me telling me not to disappoint myself and give in.

And I didn’t.

Now, back to eating. I’ve been letting myself slide with staying on plan…as a means of not smoking. Like I mentioned…now that the worst is over, it’s time to get focused again. I’ve been reading “Body for Life” by Bill Phillips, and decided that I’m going to try and follow his plan. Honestly, it’s not really different from what I’ve been doing all along…but I like that fact that he suggests you make lists of what you plan on doing at the gym the next day…and keep things organized. (I’m a list maker. Big time. In fact, I had once made myself a list and left it lying on the kitchen counter. My brother got ahold of it…and after the last item, the smartass wrote “make more lists.” Asshole.) So, I started the first workout this morning. It was tough…I woke up with a migraine that still has not gone away…didn’t think I was going to make it through the 20mins…but alas, I did. (Note to self..get there earlier. All of the old people got the good machines first…and I was stuck with the shitty treadmill that is so frickin ancient, it doesn’t even have a spot for a waterbottle. Bastards!

In other news, I got me a new set of teeth this weekend. I went to see a new dentist last week for a cleaning and checkup. He’s actually the dentist that my Mom saw and that my Dad still sees…and has so for 20+ years. (I finally got kicked out of my pediatric dentist by about the time I was 20…and just couldn’t find anybody I could say that I really liked…or trusted for that matter…so I decided to give this guy a try.) Yeah, he’s totally awesome. When I was getting my checkup last week, he kept telling me funny stories about my Mom…and he she would yell at me or my brother mid exam…and then let the doc go back to what he was doing. Too funny.

Anyhoo, on to the new teeth.

I’ve always had a David Letterman style gap. It’s never been a huge deal…my teeth were straight…looked decent..just always had that blasted gap.

Until now.

The new doc “bonded” my teeth (covered by insurance….fyi….they treat it like a filling)….so I’m a gap free kid now. (All the more incentive to keep of the smokes…ya know?) The entire process took just over an hour…not shots…needles, or anything of the sort. After the initial shock, I totally fell in love with my new teeth. In fact, the doc himself said, “Your mother would be so proud.”

Take a look…see for yourself:

Old Me…new me.

Ok, don’t take that the wrong way.  I love my little brother dearly…but hate him in the sense of, “why couldn’t he have become an accountant…or a mechanic?”  No…that would have made my life WAY too easy.  My brother had to make the life altering decision to go to CULINARY SCHOOL.  And not just that…his speciality is baking.  Sugar and chocolate flow through this kid’s veins.  And in turn, they flow through mine as well.

The Boy, as we so lovingly refer to him as, turns 20 on the 27th of this month.  He’s still in culinary school, and loves to cook.  I don’t know what’s wrong with him.  Really.  I’m sure I’ve said it before…but I’m convinced he’s the mailman’s child.  Not only does he love to cook, he’s damned good at it.  He’s like any normal college-aged kid…except that he does his “homework” in my kitchen…and it generally ends up in my stomach.  (Sometimes the dog’s too…perhaps that’s where that phrase was coined…)  

He made a cake the other night…this huge, gooey chocolate concoction…homemade icing and all.  Diet suicide is what I called it.  I told him that he needed to hide that cake from me.  I know my limits…and I know that I would dive face first and swim in that cake in the middle of the night, if given the opportunity.  So he hid it.

And I found it.

Yesterday.

When I was on the war path and ready to say FUCK this whole quitting smoking thing.

So I ask you this: which is worse?  Eating some cake, or having a cigarette?

I chose the cake.

The lesser of two evils, I suppose.  And believe me, it was a tough decision.  I found myself standing outside of my house, in the rain.  I found one loose cigarette in my  basement…and just so happened to find one match.  I stood there…even went so far as to light the thing.  I watched as the familiar orange glow of the cherry warmed my senses…I was so excited.  My lips were pursed and inches…centimeters from taking a drag of the warm, enticing tobacco I once held so near and dear.  Oh my god, I just can’t stand it any longer…I want is sooo bad.

“NO.  I DON’T NEED YOU!.  I WILL NOT LET YOU CONTROL ME ANYMORE!”

The fact that I’m sitting here writing this, and not currently in a padded room wearing a straight jacket surprises me.  After I started yelling at that poor innocent little cigarette, I tossed it to the ground, stomped on it, and then picked it up, tore it into 5 pieces, and threw it into the yard. 

And then I walked into the house and ate cake.

Which was worse…you tell me.

Ugh, what a day.

I’m surprised I still have hair in my head…no really.  Can we say I was just a bit stressed out today?  Nope…not at all.  (Have I mentioned that facetious cynical bitch is my middle name?)  =)

Day 7 without a cigarette.  Yes my friends, I made it through the weekend.  That also include day 7 without coffee, or booze.  I think a ticker tape parade is in order, don’t you?

The weight…well, that’s another story.  Saturday was 263.  Sunday was 264.3.  And today…266 even.  Why, you ask?  Fuck if I know.  (Pardon my less than tactful language today…that’s just the kind of mood I’m in.)   I didn’t eat horribly over the weekend.  No pizza…no hot dogs…only a few cookies here and there.  All in all, I’d say I ate at about 80% this weekend.  (Hell, I even got the bf to come WORKOUT WITH ME Saturday morning.  It was funny…we were on the treadmills at the rec…and I glanced at his heart rate…and saw that it said something insane like 180.  He’s about 6′1 and somewhere around 285ish…I’m guessing.  I look over at him and tell him to slow down a bit…that his heartrate was a little too high.  (Of course he has his headphones on as well…so when he answers me…he’s basically just yelling.)  He looks over at me and says, “Why…do you think I’m going to have a grabber?”  Oh cynical bf…how I do love thee.

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Sorry folks…I never got a chance to finish yesterday’s entry.  Work was insanely hectic…and now that I don’t smoke…I rarely use my computer in the basement…so most of my computing needs now happen at work, or from my bed.  (Kinky, eh?)

We’re now at day 8 of not smoking.  It’s weird…I really want to smoke…like really want to.  But at the same time, I have like zero desire to fail on myself.  I’ve never been this strict with anything in my life…especially dieting.  I wonder why I’m so adament about not screwing this up?  (Probably because I know how truly bad it is for you…and despite how I may slip with food and exercise…smoking is so much more deadly.)  Will I go for the rest of my life without at least one more cigarette?  Who knows.  But…I’ve made it through 8 days now…let’s try for 8 more.

I didn’t make it into the rec this morning…for whatever reason, I just couldn’t stop hitting the snooze…so I ended up sleeping until 7:30.  Oh well.  On days like that, which are rare, I just let myself sleep.  My body is obviously trying to tell me something….so I go with it.  I may try and go tonight, but I doubt it.  To be honest, there are some things I’d like to get done around the house…as well as finish a book I started last night.

Today’s weigh in…265.6.  I don’t know what’s going on.  Up down up down.  Who knows.

Sorry for the half-assed entry people…my brain is nowhere to be found lately.

Ta ta.

I’m sitting here at my desk right now, googling “Nicotine withdrawl symptoms,” cause I’m having them big time.  I feel awful…have a headache…body feels jittery…can’t pay attention to anything to save my life.  I called a customer earlier and said to him, “Did I call you yesterday?”  To which he replied ,”nope.”  I said “Are you sure?”  He said, “No, you didn’t call me yesterday.”  I said “Are you positive?”  At this point the man starts laughing and says “No, I swear on the Bible you didn’t call me yesterday.”  I then told him that I’m officially losing my mind, and quitting smoking has got to be THE hardest thing in the world.  He thought I was funny.  =)

Yeah, so this quitting smoking thing is awful.  It’s now day 4 without a cigarette, and I’m ready to pull out chunks of my hair and not even bat an eyelid.  I feel like screaming…punching something…just walking out of here and never coming back.  (Has nothing to do with work.)  This is torture, and REALLY makes me regret starting 10 years ago just to “look cool” when I was in high school.  How dumb could I have been?  Ugh.  No dwelling on the past I suppose.  What’s done is done.

So, I will forge ahead, without cigarettes.  At this point, the only reason I want one is so I can get some work done and not feel like total shit.  But, I’ll live.  One day at a time.

In other news, I made it to the gym and did 30 mins of lifting…this was the 3rd day in a row.  And…we had a frickin heatwave in Chicago this morning…it was a gorgeous 24 when I left the house…which meant I only had to wear ONE pair of pants to go outside.  Shit…I’m ready to BBQ!

Stepped on the scale at 6am.  262.4.  Up 4oz since yesterday.  No big deal…nothing to justify….it happens. 

Alright folks…back to work I go. 

Adios!