Instant food??? Me?????

It was the beginning of the end, so I thought.

Last year marked the one year anniversary of my loss. I had a great summer, but it left me absolutely exhausted. I couldn't focus. I'm still recovering academically. I put on 10 pounds. 10, ugly, stare-you-in-the-face, keep-you-up-at-night pounds.

It took me over six months to lose those goddamn pounds. Back in the day, 10 pounds would have felt like an extra carrot stick. Now, it feels like a large pizza, extra cheese. That's just how it goes.

But I guess the fact is, I DID lose them. I gained them, realized I messed up, and lost them. This, year, I'm just going to try to bypass the situation entirely. I know there will be Thanksgiving Dinners, and "Honey, I'm too cold to open the fridge, let's get BBQ". Christmas cookies will be made. But I will not go quietly. My attitude is better, I'm coming out of this funk that has been ruining my life, and I have renewed spirits as a "runner" (a term to be used loosely). I also think everyone should try to go to a warmer climate right before the cold hits- it really and truly does work wonders on the spirits.

I'm also doing better, raw wise. It's so hard to pull off during the winter, but I've found some things that help me from going overboard on the warm comfort foods that come into play this time of year. You see, something that not many people know about me is this: I like Ramen noodles. Maybe it's the noodles, the salt, the warmth, but it just hits the spot. But I never get to have them (One of the casualties from my compulsive label reading), or, hardly ever anyway.

But I have found something that can go with my salads or whatever that I can have when it gets reallllly cold in the rink and I just need something warm. It has like, half the calories and sodium and isn't as overwhelming. Instant rice noodles from Thai Kitchen (pictured above). It's not packed with nutrition, I know, but does exactly what I need it to. Perhaps this will lead to me creating some low cal low sodium vegan flavored broth concoction for raw people. And then I will make a fortune and will be able to afford that yacht I've had my eye on...

I hate 20th century classical music.

I don't mean pop or rock n' roll or the very modern stuff. I mean when John Cage sits at a piano picking his nose and calls it music.

I suffered through such a performance last night. There is a whole generation of early 20th century composers who decided that making a song of off notes, giving it titles like, "A sharp where there should be a flat", and having lyrics of nothing but the title of the song would be an obvious choice for a new wave of music simply because it had never been done before. Suddenly, playing a series of wrong notes and slamming your forearms on the board was cutting edge and thrilling and ingenious. There is one problem.

It sounds like someone is actually playing the piano with their forearms. A 3 year old is capable of such "magic"- this pianist only did it in some ridiculous time signature so, alas, a great work of art appears.



Perhaps the great classical geniuses of periods past refrained from such tactics for the sake of their audience. It isn't a "musical" experience, but one that relies on showy displays and loud gestures. They were better than that. They had talent. They created these rules and forms of theory, learned them, and then bent them. And it worked for several hundred years. All of the sudden the rules are thrown out and all recognizable traits of music goes out with it. I'm not saying don't be expressive or compose from the heart, but don't come up with some random idea of sound which borders on just noise and call it a great work of art.

But of course, such is the beauty of art- individual interpretation. This is one of the most important elements of creative expression that should never be silenced and this rant is only a display of that freedom. Perhaps I do need to sit through a performance of a cocky blonde opera singer wearing viking horns and screaming a single note to remind me.

So I was always a little skeptical of the whole "eat more, weigh less" philosphy, as in, I've always been a little fearful of bumping up the calories to promote weightloss. I believe in the whole-foods idea that you should focus on an abundance of natural foods instead of restricting diet food. I would much rather make myself ill eating a whole red cabbage than eat a frozen dinner. But I think there is this little crash dieter deep down inside that gets the best of me. I love to eat and am in a habitual state of panic about overeating. Hell, that's the main reason I have the diet I do. I love complex carbs and get to eat a fair amount of them. But I'm starting to let go of my limits.

I'm giving it a shot and some remarkable things are happening. I feel more balanced. I'm not thinking about maintaining with every bite I take and it has really aleviated some stress. I feel this could work out really well since I do have the appetite and taste for whole and raw foods. It makes it easier to not stress over what I eat and I'm actually sitting a pound below my norm, so we'll see what happens. It would be an absolute shock to me to dip much lower than I am now, but to be at the comfortable weight I am now and have less worry would be a dream to me.

I wonder how unusual it is to fret over things as much as I do. I feel like I'm hanging on to the hope that I can be healthy and "normal" and I have to obssess about it. I know that perseverence and consistency is what will keep me healthy and I have acquired a wealth of knowledge through this process. I am different now and am content with never eating fast food and learning every thing I can about the things I eat, etc... This is my mindset and that in itself is not difficult, yet people think it is impossible. I exercise to maintain my genreal health and I feel good in an active state. But that is my own inward view. In the end I have realized that it is much easier to exist in my state now and put forth this effort rather than go about life miserable in my former skin- unhappy with who I was and in that vicious cycle of being unhappy and doing the very things that got me deeper in the hole.

Back and already out of shape.

So Im sitting in the airport in Houston. I’m sporting the most beautiful suburn/tan. I’m wearing seashells. And flip slips. AND a tube top and I could care less. The lady at the check-in counter gave us our own row because she thought we were on our honeymoon. Business men are staring. My tanlines are telling one hell of a story.

I get off the plane in Denver and it’s SNOWING. Now I feel stupid. I feel like the deep-down Texan I’ve always tried to suppress.

The trip was amazing. I was actually born down there and it brought out a lot of memories I had forgotten about. There were a lot of kinks. It rained at some point every day. There was a red tide which resulted in a fish kill (BLECH) and our window was shot out as we were driving back to Houston. But even when I think about all that, it really made no difference. I had a truly incredible time.

And I only gained 3 pounds (and they’re already gone!). I took my own advice in my previous post and accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to eat like a saint and to not fret about it. And anyone who says they can’t exercise on the beach is full of shit. Between boogie boarding, football, romantic strolls and all that other stuff, I was plenty busy. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like the moment I got there the life got thrown right back into me. Perhaps it was the warm weather or the early morning teas with my dad. The only thing that did me in was the drinking. There is something about salty air and 90 degree weather that makes a Corona taste like fine champagne.

I’m easing my way back into the routine. I went for my first run yesterday and oh dear god was it hard. My legs ached and my throat burned. I suppose that’s what life back at high altitude will do. But I refuse to get into the rut that I got into last winter. I had no vain reason to keep in shape and I backslid my way to 144. I will find a way this winter to be active and stay out of that funk! I’m going to save up for some cold weather running gear I think.

Ok. So here is my bikini picture. It isn’t really me. Really. I don’t look like that. The light was incredible for taking pictures. I have other ones where you can see the result of my weight loss in my stomach (including one where I’m sitting down- eek). But the sun Gods and bikini gods and tan gods were dancing in perfect unison and it just came out.

But you know what? That IS me. I think it's about time I owned it- saggy tummy, killer legs, strong shoulders and all. I was so ashamed of "owning" myself. I was afraid of myself. I covered it up with big sweaters and big jewelry. I still have the posture of someone who doesn't think all that much of themselves and I think it's time to own that too.

It is me.

Deliverance, CO

Ok, so reality is setting in. I *may* not be as good on vaca as I thought. I originally thought that staying in a condo on a beach with a full kitchen would help tremendously in keeping me in check, but my father has been putting words into my head like "Oyster Bar" or "Snoopy's" and "crabcakes".

And gumbo.
And crawfish quesadillas
And margaritas.

I had more faith in this man. A vegetarian who salivates worse than I do over a fresh catch? Thanks, Dad. I suppose we all have our weaknesses. Mine just happens to be shellfish. I may have to go on a little investigative tour to find out just how many calories are in crabcakes so I don't go completely overboard as is usually the case with such items (remoullaide is bad for you? Who the hell knew?) Eh. Screw it. I have given up on some things in my lifetime, one of which is dessert- I never order dessert anymore. And a plate full of fried batter dipped and friend food. Let's just promise to get in a couple of good beach runs, chase around the little brother and just have a really good fucking time.

The weekend away was exactly what I needed. Well, with the exception of the massage therapist who insisted on craning his neck to see under the sheet as I turned over. If you happen to be in Breckenridge, Colorado and wander into a certain spa with a color and herb in it's name.... stay away. The male massage therapist is a peeping tom and has the thickest, most horribly groomed eyebrows I've seen on a man.

The condo was spectacular. It was one of those big box resorts with 24 concierge, antler chandeliers, and a fully stocked fireplace. The log bunkbeds were a nice touch as well. The highlight was our driver, though. He was one of those east coast wanderers-turned- mountain man who came out to the Rockies looking for good beer, fresh powder and snow bunnies. The boy is living in a beer commercial. What makes this man memorable is the fact that my 43 year old friend (married with children) gets a couple of martinis in her and wants to take him home. When she realizes this won't happen (only after she had us all dying with her pick-up lines), she turned him over to her niece. Hilarity ensues after a piece of chocolate wrapped in our ROOM NUMBER made it into his hand.... and he actually wandered up. And I will tell you something else, that's the last time I chaperone a date in a hot tub.

But I hate mountain towns. It's a snobbish superiority complex. It must be what a New Yorker feels like when coming back after living in LA for a few years. You KNOW you belong, but you can't help feeling like a bumbling touron (tourist+moron). The locals (who are glorified transplants themselves) are ridiculously stuck up because they can be. You, you precious little tourist you, are a dime a dozen. Forgetful of the importance of hapless tourists on their livelihood (or constantly and painfully reminded of it), the locals will laugh off your presence as though you are panhandling in front of a million dollar chalet.

And I miss it all terribly. I reminded a childhood friend of mine just the other day of our own encounters with these tourists- sneaking them into our own parent's hot tub and laughing off the poor man who wandered into the pool after 12 exhausting hours in a car with an equally exhausting family wondering where in fact was the pool or convincing those boys that their father's white Escalade would be FINE to take up to the flat tops.

Perhaps this is penance then?

Anyway, here's my plan for today. I'm juicing mostly, but I might sneak in some protein. It's going well:

-green juice (fruit)
-pommegranite juice
-green salad and another juice
-green juice (veggie)
-egg white omelette
-lots of hibiscus tea and water

workout: 40 minute walk/run

WHY AM I GAINING WEIGHT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Does smoking really affect your metabolism that much? My eating has been fine. Just fine! Well, with the exception of a package of Skittles (which wasn't even a package because I just ate the purple ones), I have been really good! I can't explain it and it drives me batty. It's completely horrible that I'm seriously considering smoking again, not because I actually crave a cigarette, but because the scale has shot up a few pounds.... There MUST be a special spot in Hell for me.
But I won't. Who wants to quit smoking more than once?

I've been cranking out these runs. A 45 minute run/walk in the morning and a 30 minute run in the evening. I just want to keep moving. And I really do notice the difference post-smoking. The anxiousness that weighed so heavy on me a week ago is waining. I know that vacation is imminent and this is the calm before the storm. Sometimes I think the fun in a vacation is the execution of it all- the planning and packing and traveling (I love airports- this comes from being shuttled in between parents and the glorious feeling of being 13 and ALONE in an airport. Nothing feels more grown-up). There's also the excitement of seeing family after a long time apart, the outfit coordination and the bikini wax. Well, perhaps not the waxing part (but I have a fabulous waxer if any Denverites would like her name).

So. Meals for today are as follows:

2 pieces of toast with light butter
green juice (fruit)
nonfat latte w/ splenda

salad
grape tomatoes

gala apple

green juice (veggie)
half a cup of eggwhites

Not bad. In fact, pretty damn good. BUT, it's friday. Fridays have a way of sneaking things like $2 cocktails and appettizers into your plan. Damn them.

I haven't smoked!

And I briefly went up about 4 pounds (EEEEEK!), but it's wandering back to normal. I got a bit hooked on orange Creamsavers for a couple of weeks, but I'm SHOCKED at how smoothly it's going and how I'm not freaking out over the oral fixation thing. I thought that the hardest part would be in the car, but I was wrong. I will just be sitting there watching TV or something and then BAM! I want a cigarette. Go know. But it really isn't nearly as hard as I thought.

So yeah. Go me.

Ok. So I broke down a dozen times at work the first week (my boss now has a palpable fear in my presence) and I will never forgive Ross for rebuffing my pleas to go get cigarettes, but whatever.

So upon getting only 3.5 hours of sleep and I'm working a 10 hour shift (which is ironic because I normally don't and Ross told me last night that he hopes I have to work a long day today for keeping him up last night- you got your wish, dear), I didn't even consider bringing my workout clothes with me. I will hit the track after work in hopes of sucking up as much time outdoors as I can before it gets cold. I have one week until Padre, so I'm running out of time (and excuses).

My eating on Monday was downright ugly. I don't know what came over me. I ate just about everything in sight! I guess that explains why I haven't been very hungry since then. I don't understand. Every once in a while, about once a month, I just get soooo hungry. But am I really hungry? I'm starting to see myself for what I may really be- a sabbatoger. I am going to be on my first beach run since the new bod and part of me is really freaking out. I set this goal to be in excellent shape and I have noticed some differences, but the place that I was really hoping for- my tummy and midsection- doesn't seem to have benefited much from the extra work and it's SO FRUSTRATING. And that frustration is channeling into anxiety and it all makes me want to eat a burger and hide under the covers (I haven't done either, so it's a good sign).

It just plan sucks, though.

But don't get me wrong. I'm still aching to get down there, set up my lawn chair in the surf, crack a book and open a Corona.