I’m back. I’ve survived another visit to the creepy podiatrist…and I am cast-free. Thank you!

Dr. Creepy has decided that I don’t have to wear the soft cast on my foot for the final week of my healing process – as long as I promise not to walk on it a lot. Or tap dance. I agree. I never want to wear that clicky, wobbly, Velcro monstrosity again.

So congratulations, me, on making it through my sixth stress fracture. Surely there’s some kind of badge or medal for this.

Now that I’m cast-free, I’m walk’in on the wild side. For the past several weeks, I’ve been deep in thought over whether I should join a gym. I hate gyms, really. Remember my last gym experience? Yeah, it’s not for me – but neither are stress fractures. I need to get my hands on (err, feet actually) a very low…or almost no…impact means of working out. That means one of three options: recumbent bike, swimming pool, or elliptical trainer.

The few remaining shreds of dignity that I have left require me to shun the recumbent bike. SHUN IT!! If you’ve ever been or are currently obese or (my favorite) morbidly obese, you probably already know what I’m talking about. For those of you who aren’t, I’ll be happy to explain.

Picture this: you lumber your obese body into the gym and sit down on the recumbent bike. You put your feet on the pedals in front of you and start to pedal. What happens? Your legs are pumping at the pedals – which is a very good thing – but the tops of your thighs are also bumping up against all that glorious fat on your mid-section. Oh, yes, it’s awesome – especially for girls with big boobs like me – because every pump of my legs sends my gut jiggling up, causing my boobs to ricochet off my gut and clock me under the chin. Cha-POW!!! So glamorous at the gym. And they wonder why more fat people don’t go.

I can’t do it. I just can’t do it. The recumbent bike is a self-esteem suck fest. You should have seen the look on my face when Hot Mess Hubby wanted to buy me a regular non-stationary recumbent bike so that we could ride bikes together on the path behind our house. He doesn’t understand the world of a fat person, certainly. I got all squeaky and Dr. Seuss on him.

I will not ride it at the gym, I will not ride it drinking gin, I will not ride it on the path, and shut up now or feel my wrath!

I’m actually serious. I’ve never had gin. And, obviously, I’m not a very good poet.

So the recumbent belly-boob-bounce house is out.

What’s next…swimming pool? Are you on drugs? No. Just no. Even if they let me wear shorts and a t-shirt in the pool. No. Even if I could wear a turtleneck and jeans in the pool. No.

No.

That leaves the elliptical machine. And, since Hot Mess Hubby & I are on a Hot Mess Budget, that means the gym. There’s no way around it…we simply can’t afford to buy an expensive piece of gym equipment for the house.

The elliptical trainer and I have a bittersweet history. If you’ve ever been on one, you probably know what I mean. They kick me right in the booty. The first time I ever tried one, I was regularly walking 45 minutes a day at a pretty good clip and considered myself quite the badass for it. Got on the elliptical…lasted 9 minutes, after which I was huffing and puffing like, well…a fat girl.

Granted, the elliptical trainer makes you work much harder than regular walking. That’s a plus. I just wish it didn’t have to humble me in the process. But when it comes to low impact, this is the most logical choice for me. Makes me work harder, isn’t as hard on my feet. Win-win.

I finally decided on Lady of America fitness clubs. It’s the best decision for me. It’s on the way home from work. In fact, it’s on the street I drive down to get to my house…so I have no excuse not to go. If I go home first, I’ll be too distracted by all of life’s other crap. I have a plan that works for me: I change clothes at work so I’m ready to go to the gym. I drive home. I pull into the gym parking lot and go work out. Then I go home and take care of everything else.

The only thing that would make this more perfect is if I was a naturally fit person who didn’t need to workout…but apparently God thought this would be much more fun.  :-)

So how am I doing? How long can I last on the elliptical? I’ll tell you very soon. For now, tell me how you solve your fitness problems. What challenges do you face and how do you overcome them?

When you share you help yourself, but you’re also helping others who will read your comments and identify with your struggles. So give it your best shot. I’m listening!

TRUE BLUE SPA

I’M IN THE MOOD FOR SCRUB FOAMING BODY BUFF WITH SHEA BUTTER 

The absolute best body scrub ever…I use it in the shower after the gym. Just smelling the stuff makes me relaxed and less angry that I have to work off all this weight.

Peeps!

If you’re a regular participant on my Facebook fan page, you probably remember a day not too long ago when a Hot Mess Princess fan named Sarah thrilled us all with the news that she’d finally hit the 100 pounds lost milestone. Badass!

Many of us had a lot of fun patting Sarah on the back that day. It was like a ticker-tape parade on my Facebook fan page. With unicorns…and rainbows…and free kittens for everyone. Whenever one of my readers has a big announcement like that, I always try to share it because I know the power of the almighty “atta-girl”. I’m betting you do too. That moment when you know you’ve kicked major ass and you shout it to the heavens and share it with everyone you know…and everyone you know is happy and excited for you.

Yeah, that moment.

I’ve had a few. I’m sure you have too. We will all have them again…and again…as long as we keep pushing forward.

In a moment of pure genius (I don’t like to brag, but…) I got in touch with Sarah and asked if she would let me interview her for my blog. I’m a big believer in the fact that we all have to stick together. We have to lift each other up. In my case, that’ll take about five of you…but we all need a little help once in a while.

Seriously, though, we can do this. We can do this. Each and every one of us. And we don’t need special pills or diets. We don’t need to shake special crap on our food or buy thigh-master, butt-blaster exercise gadgets or start on a Monday. We need persistence and patience. We need to be as gentle and loving with ourselves as we are with our best friends. We need to realize that there is no quick fix that’s going to get us healthy…and we need to know in our hearts that we are worth all this trouble.

Sarah’s success is walk’in talk’in evidence of what is waiting for each of us just a little farther down the road. All we have to do is persevere one more second, one more minute, one more hour…one baby step at a time. So have faith in yourself, grab a cuppa, and read on.

HMP: How much have you lost?

Sarah: I’ve lost 104 lbs!!!

HMP: Wow…congrats! How long did that take you?

Sarah: I started seriously trying to lose weight right before Thanksgiving in 2011. So close to a year and a half.

HMP: Are you at your goal weight?

Sarah: I wish! lol. I still have another 82lbs to go.

HMP: What was the hard part of the process?

Sarah: Staying focused, keeping my sweet tooth in check, and learning to check my emotions.

HMP: What are your daily challenges and how do keep them under control?

Sarah: I still struggle controlling my eating habits. I have a bad habit of being an emotional eater. I suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) It impacts my life greatly. It can cause me to be very emotional and eat without thinking. To keep my emotional eating under control when I reach for food, healthy or not, I ask myself what are you feeling right now? I will sometimes write down my feelings so I can see I’m not hungry I’m dealing with this other issue. Whether its feeling depressed because something triggered me or anxious. I made a plan to work past my emotional eating and work on my mental well-being as well.

HMP: What was your proudest non-scale victory?

Sarah: When I could look at myself in the mirror naked. I know – gross, right? But when I was at my heaviest I couldn’t look at myself without wanting to cry. I was 326 pounds. I would turn my back to the mirror when getting ready to shower. Now I can look at myself and see the changes that are happening.

HMP: Do you have a support system at home?

Sarah: I have my two best friends. One close by and another a few hours away, they both keep me going when I struggle. Michelle walks with me and celebrates my victories no matter if it’s one pound or ten pounds. Andrew sends me supportive messages and reminds me only I can make the choice to change my body.

HMP: What is the hardest part of an average day for you…and why?

Sarah: When I’m winding down for the night, there is nothing I like more than ice cream before bed. I know have it once a month when I go out with Michelle. we walk for two hours then I get a small cone.

HMP: Ice cream, huh? We may be related. Did you ever back slide and gain weight back?

Sarah: I’ve gained back here and there. The most I’ve put back on was 10 lbs.

HMP: What did you do about it when you gained it back?

Sarah: To be honest at first I cried. I was distraught. Then I realize I made the choices that lead to me gaining the weight back. I worked hard to get it off and if I want to keep it off I had to keep working at it.

HMP: How is your life different now from the life you had at your top weight?

Sarah: I have more energy. I’m happier. I’m working toward being self-confident. I eat more fruits and veggies. I cut out soda all together. I don’t snack on a bag of peanut butter cups a few times a week.

HMP: What is your next goal? How will you get there?

Sarah: My next goal is to be at or under 200lbs by the start of the New Year. I’ve started some light weight training coupled with lots of cardio. My cardio includes walking and dancing like an idiot with my kids (best cardio ever!)

HMP: What is the one piece of wisdom you think your fellow Hot Mess’ers  should take away from this article?

Sarah: That everyone has struggles. Everyone has highs and low. No one can change your body but you!

HMP: Is there anything else…any really great tidbit of advice that you’d like to share?

Sarah: Don’t change your body to be skinny. Change to be healthy. Don’t change for someone else. This journey is all about you! Taking care of you! Loving you! You’re not dieting, you’re making a life style change. Don’t deny yourself the one brownie you would really like to eat. Moderation is the key. Eat a brownie, not the pan. The road is different for all of us but we are all united to change our way of living so we can enjoy life to the fullest!! Whether you want to lose the last 5 lbs or have just begun your journey, know that you have taken the first step (and kicked its ass) by deciding its time to work on you. Again this is YOUR journey. I will cheer you on in spirit the whole way! Keep up the hard work!

I’m pretty sure I speak for everyone (except maybe that bunghole from Abercrombie & Fitch, but more on that later) when I say congratulations, Sarah…your success and bad-assedry are an inspiration to us all.

Let’s have a group hug with Sarah in the middle. She deserves it – and the rest of us could probably use a good squeeze as well. Comment here to post messages of praise and awe for Sarah…or questions. I’m sure she’d love to hear from her fellow Hot Mess’ers. Oh, and if you’re reading this via email, please note that if you reply to the email you’re reading it does not post here to the blog. Please click through to the blog and post a comment so Sarah hears you loud and clear.

I’ve had a lot of decisions to make over the past ten days or so. The biggest one looming over me right now is whether to walk in the Buffalo Boogie 5K.

I’ve talked about it with the Hot Mess Hubby and I’ve talked about it with my podiatrist and the overwhelming evidence says that walking in this 5K, whether it’s in regular shoes or a shoe and this horrible soft cast, is an incredibly bad idea.

Similarly, I am not going to rent a wheelchair to let others push me down the route. For several reasons. First, because this was about me accomplishing something special…and I’m not doing that if someone else is pushing me and I’m sitting on my ass.  Second, this 5K is on a nature trail. A dirt trail. No way and I rolling a wheelchair on that.

I appreciate the support from Brenda and from Crystal, who signed up to walk with me. I’m incredibly touched by your support and friendship – and I’m deeply sorry that I won’t be able to walk in the 5K. But you get to decide what happens next.

If you don’t want to walk at all, I will reimburse you for your $18 entry fees.

If you do still want to walk, I will go to the event and cheer you on. I’ve already called the event coordinators to ensure that I don’t have to walk fair in this clumpy thing in order to get to the finish line. They’ll make special arrangements to let me park closer to the event if I go.

I will go and I will cheer…for you, my Hot Mess Sistahs.  Just let me know what you want me to do. Refund or walk?  No judging on my end. I’m the one who’s foot messed it up.

I feel absolutely terrible that it’s come to this. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. Even in this brace, I can’t walk a 5K with a stress fracture. It’s too painful.

I’m very sorry. Feel free to comment here and let me have it. I’ll listen.

Peeps!

Thank you all for entering the Minted.com raffle!  With so many gorgeous items to choose from, our winner will certainly have fun shopping with her new $50 credit.
Before I announce the winner, I just want to post one more of their gorgeous inspiration boards. Look at this one I found last night:

west elm – subtle blues board by Kelly Ventura. See more art prints

Beautiful!

And the winning post, which was selected by random.org, was posted by Violet Narney Hooks!

Congratulations, Violet!!!

Please use the Contact Me tab above or message me on Facebook…I’ll need your email address in order to connect you with the folks at Minted.com

Thank you again to everyone who participated. You’re awesome!!

And thank you to the folks at Minted.com for providing such a great prize for my readers to enjoy. Y’all rock!

It’s time for another giveaway, peeps…and it’s a gorgeous one, courtesy of Minted.com.

Y’all know I get all flibberty gibberty over #2 pencils. Well, I do the same over paper…and cards…and journals…and invitations. The folks at Minted.com do it up right. They even have these cool inspiration boards. This is one of my favorites:

Northwest Media Photography board by Jenny. See more Minted.com

So many gorgeous choices – but it’s their journals that really get me going. I almost get a designer handbag buzz just looking through their website!

There’s this one, which I would probably keep at home for passwords & such.

And there’s this one, which I would take with me when I travel…

And…this one…which I would carry in my handbag in case I needed a quick doodle.

I could go on and on…and on, but I’m sure you can already see that I can get quite carried away. Actually, I already have, haven’t I? Put the tranquilizer darts down. I’m fine.

So here’s what we’re going to do:  we’re going to have a raffle for a $50 credit on  Minted.com

Ready?

To enter the raffle, head on over to Minted.com‘s website and have a look through their fabulous designs…then come back here and post a comment telling us which of their items you would use the $50 credit on.

(If you have a fairly common name like Mary or Lisa, it’s a good idea to also use the first initial of your last name…or your middle name…or zip code when you post your comment. Something that makes you unique in the comments section.)

Here’s the twist: you can get TWO entries into the raffle if you play…

“Pin It to Win It!”

For a second entry in the raffle, pin your favorite Minted.com item on Pinterest and include a link to your pin in your comment here.

For example:

“HMP, I would LOVE to use my credit for the Greatest Circus Children’s Birthday Party invites. I pinned them here: http://pinterest.com/pin/275564070922476086/”

** Just a note: your Pinterest link won’t turn into an actual link in the comments because I have html disabled…so don’t worry…I can still copy and paste it when I check the entries.

Raffle closes this Sunday, May 5, 2013 at 7 pm central time.

Winner’s name will be selected using random.org and posted by Monday, May 6, 2013 at 7 pm central time. One regular and one Pinterest entry per person, please (equaling a max of TWO). Don’t get all cray cray.

Raffle open to US residents only

Good luck, everyone!

We don’t have “normal” kids. Otherwise this blog would be filled with stories of my Hot Mess children. Instead, we have two incredibly large dogs who are loaded with personality and love. And a little drool. So when Momma Kat handed out the blog memes this week and I saw this one, I knew I had to do it.

If you haven’t heard of the “Reasons My Son Is Crying” tumblr page, it’s basically a Mom being creative and using tumblr as a sort of therapy/venting tool to laugh about the roller coaster existence you have when you have a toddler in your life. I was most inspired to create my own version of it…but my son isn’t human…and the only time he cries is when someone eats a piece of pizza too close to the crust and he thinks he’s not going to get any.

My son is a 1/2 English Sheep Dog, 1/2 Saint Bernard, 130 pound Hot Mess puppy dog. Named Dyson. Yes…he’s named after a vacuum cleaner (so is my daughter Kirby, the 100% pure bred Saint Bernard with a fetish for stealing hamburger buns).

Dyson wears many hats in our family. Playmate for Kirby. Protector of the family. Arch nemesis to Sarah the cat. Turd burglar. And now…photobomber.

Here is Dyson in all his big, brown-eyed, muppet dog glory:

My big ball of love

By the way, for those of you who haven’t heard the term “photobomb”, it’s basically the word used to describe what happens when someone is taking a picture or video and someone else ducks in at the last minute and steals the focus. Sometimes it’s on purpose and sometimes it’s not, but the results are usually pretty funny.

Here are a few examples:

Mr Seal photobombing the penguins

No, that’s not me back there. Shut up.

You get the idea…

Anyway, I was in California last weekend, and one of the things on my “to do” list was to show Mom how to use the webcam on her new computer. After I created desktop shortcuts for her email and YouTube accounts (she watches Englebert Humperdink videos online…I’m not even making that shit up), I set up Skype. I had Hot Mess Hubby call us on webcam. Not only did she get to see how it works, but she got to visit with her incredibly scruffy son-in-law for a while as well. Two birds, one stone. Everyone wins. Except me because, as you’ll see in the photo below, I have to kiss a beard with a face under it.

So…in the middle of our webcam visit, Dyson hears my voice. We couldn’t see him, but apparently he was looking everywhere for me. He could hear me, of course, but he couldn’t find me. And then it happened.

Full…frontal…photobomb:

Momma? Why I can’t smell you?

Mom and I were cracking up. It was adorable in a thousand ways I just can’t describe. Out of nowhere, this giant muppet head floats into view…and when he sees me on the screen, he tilts his head curiously and launches himself at my laptop. (I came home last night to find a giant spot of dried drool on the screen of my beloved laptop.) He was giving me kisses.

He just wanted his Momma. True to his personality, he inserted himself where he needed to be in order to find me. And get kisses.

I seem to bring out the kissy monster in this boy. He was just a 3 month old, 35 pound puppy when I met him at St Cloud’s Rescue. He was wearing the Cone of Shame and I was sitting on the grass waiting to see which puppies took an interest in me. He waddled right up to me, shoved the Cone of Shame over my head, and kissed me in the face. Between that and his adorable chubby butt, it didn’t take too long for me to fall in love.

Since then, Dyson has led a very pampered, spoiled life. If he was a human, his last name would be Kardashian. Think about it: long hair, big brown eyes, huge badonka-donk. Plus, he’s not the sharpest pencil in the box. Total Kardashian.

In his defense, though, he has a huge heart full of love – and he would never make a sex tape. My boy’s got class. He’s a snuggly, farty, unruly mess of love and devotion. He’s ever vigilant, never far away, and God forbid if I’m writing and he thinks I should be paying attention to him. He photobombs my laptop.

Momma…it’s time for kisses and belly rubs.

And what do I do about it?

I close the laptop, pat the cushion next to me, and let him flop his giant ass up on the couch. Many sweet nothings are whispered, many belly rubs are given.

Anything for my rescue puppy…who really rescued me. I can’t wait to see what he photobombs next.

My boy…helping me get rid of the menstrual cramps

Please consider donating to St Cloud’s Rescue. There’s a donate button on their website.

What silly behaviors do your pets do? Tell me.

So this is new…

Yep. That’s my left foot. Except no, it’s not new. Not really…because this has happened before. Because my feet hate me. Or I have sucky DNA. Probably both.

I was 13 years old the first time I heard the word “podiatrist”. Dr. Russell. He was kind of cute for an “old” guy (he was probably 35). I had been walking around Sea World all day with my family, wearing a pair of super cute sandals with daisies on them, and by the time we were ready to leave for the day my two older sisters had to carry me to the car. It wasn’t the first time I was hurt by fashion, but it was the first time I was hurt bad.

I was diagnosed with tendonitis – which is really interesting because you don’t have any tendons in your arches, but whatever. I would later learn that I had plantar fasciitis, which is very common but still altogether painful and extremely unpleasant.

Hunky Dr. Russell explained that my tootsie woes were due to the fact that I was a growing teenager and a dancer. He would slap some stretchy athletic tape up on my arch and send me on my way, so that’s what I learned to do. My dance bag was never without a roll of that tape. Every time I had foot pain, I slapped that tape up on my arch and kept on going. I had arch supports in all my shoes. Later, I had special inserts made that were molded to my foot. Still no relief…and I only weighed 125 pounds back then.

By the time I was in my late twenties, I was getting steroid injections in my heels. Yes, it’s as painful as it sounds. First, because cortisone stings like a mother…and second, because there’s an effing needle in your foot – but at that point, I had run the gamut from tape to inserts to physical therapy…and none of it was working anymore. So I would wait until the pain got so bad I couldn’t take it anymore and then I’d go in for injections. Thank God I had a good doctor with a sense of humor who never openly made fun of the fact that I started crying as soon as he walked in the room.

When you have plantar fasciitis, the mornings are the worst. It was nothing for me to roll out of bed and crawl to the bathroom to pee in the morning. It hurts like hell to flatten out your feet or put any weight on your heels. After you stretch out the ligament, normalcy returns except for the occasional jab. If you’re using your head and listening to your doctor, you should wear shoes that are comfortable and supportive, which is fashion code for “1970′s spinster librarian clod-hoppers.”

I was not a good listener. Besides, black leather lace-up grandma shoes with crepe soles just don’t go with a Dooney & Bourke handbag.

After a while, I’d had enough. One afternoon as my podiatrist was stabbing me in the heels with more cortisone and I was biting my wallet to stifle the screaming, I looked longingly into his eyes and said “Give me the surgery, doc. Give me the damn surgery.” And he did. And it was goooooood. Except for one really, really embarrassing moment – but that’s a blog post unto itself, so it’ll have to keep for now.

After surgery, I was joyously pain free…until I got my first stress fracture. I was training with a group at work because we were going to walk one of those breast cancer 3 day walks. I ignored the pain at first, but eventually I was limping all the time. Everything hurt.

Imagine my chagrin when I went to my regular doctor and he told me there was nothing wrong with my foot. What?

See, I didn’t think I needed a podiatrist anymore because I’d had the surgery to relieve my plantar fasciitis. Bwahahahahaha!  Wrong!

I went to see my podiatrist. He walks in, squeezes my foot in just the right place and sends me through the roof in pain, then he smiles and says “Yeah, well…stress fractures don’t show up on xrays until they start healing. That’s why you’re supposed to come to me.”

Ass.

Since then, I’ve had quite a few…and always in my left foot. In fact, I expect my left foot to just fall off by the time I’m 80. It’s always had a sucky attitude. It just can’t hang with the rest of my body.

So here I sit with my foot in this damn soft cast. Stress fracture #6. For the next four weeks, I’ll be lurching around Texas like a giant fat Frankenstein. Awesome.

The Buffalo Boogie 5K is in two weeks. I did ask my podiatrist if that was even feasible. Of course, he said no. From my own experience, I know he’s probably right – because you have to stay off your feet for these to heal. I would have argued…or at least asked more questions…but this particular podiatrist is a creep. I only went to see him today because he was the last one I saw and he had an available appointment this afternoon – but every time I go and see him I end up feeling like I need a long hot shower. You know, the kind in Silkwood or The Crying Game.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do about the 5K yet. This has all just happened and I need time to think logically. Right now, I’m too busy cursing my DNA/weak feet genes to make any real decisions.

Ironically, this brings to light the discussion I’ve been having with Hot Mess Hubby over the past several weeks about joining a gym again. I’ve been having foot pain (now we know why) and trying to figure out a way to get access to an elliptical trainer. We just can’t afford to buy one and I’ve been considering a venture back into gym membership for a few weeks. Elliptical is much lower impact than a treadmill.

Sometimes you have to dance with the devil even when you don’t want to. Maybe it’s time for me to join a gym. It’s either that or take water aerobics. I’d rather face the muscle-bound fitness dicks than let anyone see my in a bathing suit. Ever.

Do you belong to a gym? Which one…and what do you like/dislike about it? Help me work this out, peeps.

And don’t worry: I may be temporarily knocked down, but I’m most definitely not out.

Peeps!!!

Wanna know who won the raffle?

Post #5: Angie Jacobs!!!

Angie, please click here and send me your shipping address so that I can contact MIRA and tell them who to ship your containers to.  :-)

Congratulations!!!

Thank you all for participating in the raffle. I’ve got another one coming up shortly, so if you didn’t win this one maybe it’s just because you’re supposed to win the next one…right?

Stay tuned…and keep eating healthy!

MIRA Stainless Steel 2 Container Set – Small

Peeps!

It’s been awhile since I’ve hosted a raffle – and the good folks at MIRA Brands have graciously donated their Stainless Steel 2 Container Set for you to win.

Who’s feeling lucky?

Here are the facts on these great little containers:

* stainless steel

* the lids are non-toxic and free of BPA, phthalates, PVC and lead

* dishwasher safe

Chipotle chicken, anyone?

MIRA Brands sent me a set as well. I’ve been using them all week and I can tell you my two favorite features without hesitation:

1. Stainless steel keeps food colder/warmer longer than plastic containers

2. I can load these up with snack-worthy foods, throw them in my handbag, and the lids stay secure. Not once has the lining on my Kate Spade bag been threatened by these containers.

(You don’t know how cranky I can get if there are almonds crushed into the lining of a gorgeous bag!)

They go through the dishwasher like a dream (I use the top rack). And this may seem frivolous to some, but I love the look of these containers. I’m not carrying around some cruddy piece of disposable plasticware. They’re cute and stylish.

My fat free greek yogurt dip is my favorite snack to cart around in these containers. The stainless steel keeps the dip nice and cool until I get to my destination (usually work) and one container holds plenty of dip for a batch of my homemade fat free chips.

My favorite tv watching snack: homemade (not fried) chips & fat free yogurt dip

They’re also handy for almonds, granola, and just about any snack portion you can think of. I keep one handy for my yogurt dip…and the other?  Well, we all have our bad days, right? The other one stays in my handbag and holds my “emergency stash” when the 7 Dwarfs of the Menstrual Apocalypse are here.

Emergency Chocolate Stash!

So who wants a pair of their own?

All you have to do is post a comment here and tell me what you’d use your containers for – and LIKE my Facebook Fan Page. That’s it! The winning name will be picked using random.org.

One entry per person please. Winner must reside in the US.

Entries will be accepted from now through 12 noon central time tomorrow, Saturday, April 20, 2013.

MIRA offers varied sizes of these stainless steel containers. This raffle is for a set of 2 snack sized containers.

Good luck everyone!

This has been on my mind for days and days and I haven’t been able to put it into words. I keep noticing that I’m angry without having an obvious reason. This is the reason: my own lack of motion.

The scale is stuck. Actually, that’s not an accurate statement. The number on the scale is not moving…because I am not moving. There is no one to blame but me.

I recently had a conversation with a fitness writer whom I really respect. I was absolutely infuriated by the lack of quality, reliable information out there for obese people when it comes to any kind of resistance training. She confirmed for me that cardio is the best thing I can do to take off the pounds (which I knew, I just needed to hear it again…because sometimes I get all wrapped up in unimportant details). I walked away from the conversation knowing what I needed to do, but not doing it. Again.

Overall, my feelings are of outrage and frustration…at myself. It’s April. I truly thought I would be farther along in my efforts to make exercise a habit by now. It’s 4 months into the year and all I have to show for it is a longer list of what doesn’t work for me.

Training for the 5K in May? Not motivating me. (Don’t worry, I’m still doing it…so if you’re signed up, you’re still stuck with me!)

Zumba or other group fitness classes? Doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest. I’m already pissed off that I have to exercise, I don’t want to be around happy people – or worse, the kind who shriek and make “yippy!” noises while they exercise. I really hate that shit.

Watching tv or reading on the treadmill?  I can’t focus and I actually can’t breathe right. I’m all uneven and funky. I need to walk to music or silence. But hey…at least that’s one thing I know I like, right? Out of all this negativity…at least there’s that.

And that’s what’s getting me: the negativity. And the self-loathing. And the absolute spoiled brat mentality that seems to be hard-wired into my DNA.

Do you know what I did today? I woke up early, ready to start the day and get some serious shit done…and I ended up sitting on the couch all day. Reading. Watching tv. Snuggling the dog. Talking to the hubby. Actually, my day looked more like this:

Made breakfast.

Watched news, channel surfed.

Started a load of laundry.

Realized I recorded “Prometheus” on cable the other day & hadn’t watched it.

Watched it, then resisted the urge to fly to California and kick the producer in the crotch. (As my mother would say, it was dryer than a cat’s ass!)

Started sorting out the crap on the coffee table.

Thought about putting my shoes on and walking The Path. Didn’t.

Watched more tv.

Read my Kindle.

Snuggled with Kirby. Snuggled with Dyson.

Greeted hubby when he woke up. Thought about getting on the treadmill. Didn’t.

Thought about cleaning the laundry room. Didn’t.

Played a computer game for an hour.

Chatted with hubby. Thought about going for a walk again. Didn’t.

Felt guilty about it.

You get the idea, right?

The path

I think about working out, but I don’t. I’m so overwhelmed by everything I have to do in my life…and so I do nothing. I preach to the world that you have to take things as you can handle them…slowly & deliberately…and yet here I sit: paralyzed.

I’m physically neglecting myself more, not less. As if not moving wasn’t bad enough, there’s still make-up on my face when my head hits the pillow most nights. I don’t wash my face or take care of my skin. Not necessarily because I’m too busy, but because I’m angry at myself and I don’t care. I’m not drinking enough water. The skin on my shins looks like the Sahara after a 100 year drought. When I get up in the morning, I pass my bathroom scale and feel a horrible sense of dread. The number isn’t going down. Why? Because I’m not moving. It will move when I move. And still I sit here…not moving.

I just re-read all of this and it sounds so very depressing…and whiny. I want to cheer it up for all of you who are good enough to read my blog, email me, and support me every day. I feel like I shouldn’t be where I am – which is wrong, because we’re all where we are and there is no right or wrong. And I just said I was wrong in the same sentence where I said there is no right or wrong. It’s quite possible that I’m going insane.

All of this is true – but it’s also true that the 7 Dwarfs of the Menstrual Apocalypse are getting closer every day and I’m extremely emotional/hormonal/fantastically pissy right now. I’m sure this all seems much worse to me than it really is if I think about it logically…if I just strip it back down to what I know and what is true.

Here’s what I know and what is true:

I haven’t quit. I feel like I’m on the verge of a nasty backslide if I don’t move my ass – but that’s only true if I let it happen. I am not a quitter. I may take a lot longer than the average girl to get my shit figured out, but I’m not a quitter. I don’t like myself right now – which is distressing when I consider how many years I spent in therapy just learning how to like myself. I know I need to dumb it down for myself again. I know I need to make myself move more and that I need to make it the highest priority before anything else. Every day.

And so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to walk. I’m going to get up from my desk and move more at work. I’m going to dance around the house. Joyously. And when I hear myself get negative and I start talking smack to myself, I’m going to tell myself to shut it.

Every damn day.

I refuse to look back one day and see that the only person who failed me…was me.

What demons have you faced down and lived through? Share your stories with me now…I need to hear from my peeps.

 

Tree of Life Journal (Diary, Notebook)