Wednesday, March 07, 2012
I love the musical "Hair." I have for ages. For availability reasons (read: it's on DVD), I'm partial to Treat Williams's George Berger, though I obviously made a beeline to the Kennedy Center as soon as the Broadway production made its way to our nation's capital.
I don't turn on the shower radio when my housemate is home, but I'm also partial to singing in the shower. When I don't have the classic rock station telling me what's next on my set list, I sing quietly to myself whatever happens to be at the forefront of my mind at that time.
Tonight, it was "Where Do I Go?" from Hair:
Where do I go?
Follow my heartbeat.
Where do I go?
Follow my hand.
Where will they lead me
And will I ever
Discover why I live and die?
I guess this is a common theme in my blogs...I THINK I know what I'm about and what I'm doing, but I suppose I really don't. Then, I come on here and write nonsense about it.
In addition, even if I know where I am going, I don't seem to be able to stay on the path. This relates directly to my weight loss journey. I get very distracted by food, socializing, etc...and this is one of the few things I'm sure of that I want for my future.
So where do I go? Maybe I shouldn't worry too much about the other things and focus just on this. Or maybe I should do small things toward the other things and mostly focus on this. I wish there were easy answers.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
I appreciate the responses to my blog post this morning. I felt bad after I wrote it, and it's a shame, because I was feeling okay before I wrote it. That is, I think writing the blog bummed me out more than the content of the blog. It became the culmination of a few rough things, but the day got better.
First, the Peru thing. Peru turns me into an insecure 21-year-old. I guess the thought of it does, too. When I'm there, I feel out of place, sticking out in a bad way. I go back to the times we were both just kids, and he would ignore me or not translate for me in front of his family. He is a lot of fun in Peru, and then I feel like he saves the best of himself for his friends and his family and leaves me with the boring leftovers back here. I'm old enough now to know better, but when I go there, I regress.
Second, I was super-good yesterday, but my weight was up this morning. I just wanted .1 down on the scale, and I didn't think it was too much to ask. So when I was up, I was a little irritated, especially since I have a new sense of urgency.
Third, when I got to work, the gofer guy asked me if I had a dog (which was dumb, because he knows I do--he asks me almost daily how my dog is). I said yes. He asked me if he is old (also dumb, because he knows he is). I said yes. And that he's blind. And deaf. And he told me I should "throw" Sammy "away" because he is "useless." WTF???
On a cognitive level, I get it. Gofer guy has limited English, so his harsh words may not be meant to be harsh. Also, gofer guy comes from a culture where dogs aren't pets, they are work animals. A lady at work once compared keeping a dog in the house in her culture as similar to keeping a cow in the living room. So okay, different strokes. And it's not sooo farfetched from American culture--think "Of Mice and Men." That poor dog. And that poor man.
But still. I love Sammy so much. How can someone say something like that about him? I tried to not be bothered by it, but I was kind of upset that someone would call my little guy useless and disposable. Even though, okay, yes, he pretty much is. He is an eating, sleeping, pooping, suspicious growth-growing machine that costs me thousands of dollars in vet bills. And he's my favorite thing in the world.
And he serves his purpose. So does gofer guy. Gofer guy brings me signed documents and tea. He answers questions and gives paperwork to security. That's his purpose. Sammy brings me joy. That's his purpose. They're both important, but in my own personal opinion, Sammy serves a higher purpose.
After I realized that, I wasn't mad at gofer guy anymore. He can't help being jealous of Sammy's purpose, after all.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
My husband's from Peru.
I've been there three times with him, I think. The first time, I was pretty peak and garnered a lot of positive attention, which was totally fun.
Second and third times, well, my blonde hair still got me attention, in the form of a shoe shiner dumping crap on my shoes so he could clean them.
And having to hide down the block from when the boys were negotiating taxi rides, as I got charged a fair person's premium.
I told my husband the next time I was going, I was going to be 20 pounds lighter. It feels awful being around all the other guys' girlfriends and wives. Last time, there was a wedding on my birthday. My husband set up a spa day for me that day instead of going to the wedding. I had a lot of fun--way more fun than I would have at the wedding, I'm sure--but I didn't ask him to or complain about having to go. This is stupid. I know he's not ashamed of me, but...I guess, it was better for me anyway, because I would've felt self-conscious.
And to be fair, he wants to be 20 pounds lighter, too. He's also a twin, and the brother is much, much lighter, so he's dealing with an anchor, which must be really hard.
Anyway, the point is, that last night, he told me that his grandfather isn't doing so well. I asked if we needed to go, and he said he would talk to him mom about it more when she's here. That's not for three more months, so I guess the situation isn't DIRE, but it's not great.
So I need to get on the ball. I mean, OF COURSE, if circumstances required it, I would go without having achieved any weight loss, but I would also probably hide in a spa all the times that I wouldn't be with the family. On the other hand, why subject those poor ladies at the spa to that?
I feel dumb posting this. Part of me wants to just X out and forget about it.
But I won't. I don't know why not. I probably should.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Today I tallied most of my tracked meals from the last year or so to figure out what I eat overall. I got this idea from a link that Oliver (HAKAPES) posted on someone else's blog about meeting goals.
What got me thinking about this was this part:
"The rationale behind this advice is that people want as much variety as possible - otherwise why would restrictive diets be difficult to follow?
"Iíve found a different answer. People donít want variety. In fact, Iíd wager that the top 10 meals of the average person constitute 90% of what they end up eating."
So I wanted to create my Top 10, figure out what they were and how I could tweak them to make them better.
A tweaking wouldn't touch what I found.
Several times, I was putting two tallies for one meal time! TWO!!! No wonder!
But wait...there's more!!!
Here's my top 10:
10. Pizza (25)
9. Chicken Salad (34)
8. Egg Sandwich (36)
8. Chili (36)
6. Bagels (45)
5. Healthy Choice meals (46)
4. Mexican At Home (burritos, tacos, fajitas prepared at home) (49)
3. Sandwiches (67)
2. Cereal (68)
1.....with 69 tally marks...wait for it.....
JUNK (cupcakes, chips, jerky, candy, cookies)
NO EFFING WONDER I haven't lost NOTHIN' the last year. And let's be real, I haven't lost anything in the 4 years I've been on Spark.
Pizza? Bagels? Cereal? JUNK??? How OLD am I? SEVEN???
I'm appalled and ashamed. It's hard to write about, but I think I owe it to myself and to you guys to put it out there. How could I not see this? I mean, I thought I was doing this occasionally--not AT ALL with the frequency that this indicates.
And "they" said it was okay!!! Occasionally. Persistence, not perfection. Two steps forward....
NO, NO, NO!
I can't be doing this anymore.
So, now I have my top 10. I need to make them healthier. And, well, get rid of the top one altogether. I mean, not altogether altogether, but I cannot classify my meals as JUNK anymore; that is, I cannot have the majority of my calories in any meal come from junk.
Any healthy "tweaks" to the salvageable items on my list (i.e., chili) you want to mention, please do. This has been a wild eye-opener.
And thanks, Oliver!!! I think I'm on to something real.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
So, yesterday, I think someone replaced my morning wrap with a hormone.
I was a mess, and I am not to the point in my cycle where I have a convenient reason waiting for me to pick up on it.
I don't know why. And it wasn't big stuff that made sense to cry over. I was listening to some music that I listened to in the past. Spanish stuff, so I was hearing many of the lyrics for the first time, so I started weeping over that. Weeping over the beautiful lyrics, weeping over lost youth, weeping over the memories the songs brought. (I just rolled my eyes as I typed that last period.)
Then, my husband came home with a couple groceries. When I hugged him, I started weeping again because I just LOVE HIM SOOOO MUCH. (I just rolled my eyes again. Now I just chuckled.)
Then, he went back out to the car and brought in 2 dozen roses. (I just shook my head.)
Then, we watched "House." OMG, did you see last night's episode? It was deep, profound, beautiful. But only maybe a notch more these things than it normally is. By the end, I was sniffling and wiping my eyes. Okay, I probably would have done this regardless.
So I went to take a shower and get ready for bed. I'm full-blown crying now, quietly, so as not to disturb my housemate--in two senses of the word. Then, I got to thinking about emotional eating, and what would I eat in this situation if I were to emotionally eat?
And because I was so INTO my emotions, and because I was so messed up on hormones, I realized that the deep pain I was feeling (roll your eyes now) was so much more PROFOUND than potato chips, than most ice cream, than most chocolate. By the end of my shower, my list of emotional eating foods that were WORTHY of my hormone-induced sadness were hot fudge hardened over amazing vanilla ice cream, chocolate-covered strawberries....and that's pretty much it. Things I never eat when I'm overeating.
Anyway, the point is, that I got to thinking about if we paid attention to what we were eating while we were emotionally eating, we'd realize that we're better than a pint of cheap ice cream, better than a Kit Kat Bar, better than Pringles. And if we carefully selected our emotional eating foods based on how amazing and deep and important our feelings--even our silliest and most ridiculous emotions--were, we wouldn't eat so much garbage. We'd choose homemade mac and cheese instead of boxed, for example.
And if we had to go through that process each time, picking out the food most worthy of our emotions, then making it or going out and purchasing it, that could be really healing, I think. Plus, knowing that what you were eating was really decadent and worthy might make you feel decadent and worthy. I know that it does me, anyway.
I myself wasn't hungry at the time, so I had no intention of emotionally eating. None of the food I was thinking of was really appealing to me. I was thinking only from the standpoint of worthiness. That may have helped. In a hungry moment, maybe this much thinking doesn't go into it. But it does further demonstrate that
WE ARE WORTH IT.
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