Eggceptional Disaster

So, things are off to a slow start. Of course, it is in no way my fault. Life has been busy. Very busy. Work, kids, keeping up the house, blah, blah blah. Who has time to plan healthy meals and exercise? Most days I am lucky to get 6 hours of sleep. I love sleep. I miss sleep. Why would I want to give up any of my precious sleep to spend the wee hours of the morning working out?

I tried. For exactly one week, I got up every morning and worked out with Jillian Michaels. You know what? I hate her. Yep. I said it. I HATE HER. I hate her smug little face as she tells me many truths. I hate that she rubs it in my pudgy, freckled face that I have to give it my all to see results. I hate that Anita has abs I would pay for. I hate Jillian and her 30 Day Shred.

To be clear, the workouts were awful. By awful, I mean they were challenging. By challenging I mean I thought death was knocking at my door. But, I did them. I felt great until I got on the scale at the end of week 2. Then, I got mad.

For two weeks, I ate great. Sure I had some hiccups but for the most part, I stayed within my points. I raked up activity points through walking and following stupid Jillian. The moment of truth came when I went for my weigh in. Up 1.4 lbs.

Shut the front door. I did what I was supposed to do to get fit. Healthy eating habits. Check. Workout. Check. Was my scale broken? Did I have 1.4 lbs of extra clothing on that I didn't have the week before? The typical reassurances didn't matter. Sure, muscle weighs more than fat. Yes, it can take time to see the movement on the scale. Of course, I won't get discouraged and give up.

But as the next two weeks unfolded, so did my resolve. A donut here, an extra 30 minutes of sleep there. In case anyone is wondering, it doesn't matter if your Margaritas are "light" if you drink the whole batch. You get the point.

For the first two weeks, I was in control. The last two, I let emotion and poor planning dictate my choices. Excuses fill my thoughts. I am my greatest stumbling block. In theory, I know I can do this lifestyle overhaul. In reality, I am consumed with self doubt. Do I have the willpower and discipline to change 20 years of laziness?

Today is a new start. What can I do to make this week different? To start, I need to develop my meal plan for the week and commit to it. Next, I will spend my mornings with my arch nemesis, Jillian. Finally, I will focus less on the scale and more on how I feel.

One of my favorite mantras is "Just because you break one egg doesn't mean you throw out the carton". Breaking an egg every now and again is okay. It's what I do with the rest of my carton that makes a difference.

7 Days of Struggle

I did it! I knocked out the first 7 days of my goal to be fit by 40. It was kind of a trial run. Kind of because I spent the week on vacation. The first thing I learned is that I am not very smart. Who starts such an ambitious, lifestyle change while on vacation? This girl. Not just any vacation but one that involved staying in town over a holiday weekend. And not just any holiday, 4th of July holiday. You know, the one that involves eating lots of BBQ washed down with empty calorie beverages and little cupcakes with patriotic sprinkles. So, it wasn't an ideal time to start but is there really a perfect time to exercise more, eat less and change old habits??? So, I jumped right in.

It all started so....poorly. Well, it didn't start poorly; Monday went well. I ate within reason and made it a point to go for a walk. Yay me. Tuesday started off good. Then, something horrible happened.

Horrible might be a slight overstatement. Tuesday means a weigh-in and a new weekly allowance on Weight Watchers. The weigh in went splendid - down 2.4 lbs. There is nothing like a good weigh in to fuel the fire in your belly. I was ready to Chuck Norris the heck out of the week. To celebrate, we spent a kidless afternoon watching the World Cup. The day was filled with laughter, patriotism and delicious food and drink. And that is where the week took a disastrous turn. 

Let's just say it is possible to make multiple bad choices when you spend the afternoon watching a sporting event at a local pub. Buffalo Chicken Dip? Yes please. Corona Light? Nothing says USA better than a Mexican beer. 1 lb of Fried Chicken Wings? With Extra Ranch? If you insist. You get the point! 

Speaking of points....I used all of my daily points for Tuesday and then some. And by some, I mean a lot. Wow. Did that just happen? Yes. Was it worth it? YES! I had a glorious afternoon with my husband watching a great game. On the downside, I knew I had to spend the rest of the week repenting for my excessive eating spree. Which leads me to Wednesday.

The best part about overeating with someone else is that they totally let you sweep it under the rug and move on. No guilt trips, no public shaming, no lectures. They just let it go. Sure, they witnessed you gnawing on tiny chicken bones and licking the remnants of greasy hot sauce off your fingers. But, they have your back. They know it was all innocent fun never to be discussed again. 

Apparently, not Kirt. On Wednesday, he proposed we walk 5 miles together. Worst proposal ever. 5 miles? I was barely doing 2. 5? That's more than half. Didn't he love me? Why was he intent on killing me? What about the children? Surely, he had lost his mind. After several excuses on my end, he called me out. If I wanted to be Fit by 40, I had to get going. Well...he was right. I admit it. I waived the white flag and off we went to conquer 5 miles. 

10,200 steps, 5.22 miles and 7 Weight Watcher activity points later, I felt AMAZING. Partly because I did it but mainly because I enjoyed it. So much so that I spent the rest of the week walking. I walked 2 miles to pick up my car. I went on two family walks and then continued on my own to get in additional miles. 21 activity points of walking total in 4 days.

Why is this important? Because I spent the rest of the week eating foods I love including pork steaks smothered in sauce, my mom's potato salad, pizza and a few more Corona's. I needed every bit of my weekly allowance and activity points this week. I still have two more days to go until weigh in and a fresh set of weekly points but I know I can make it. Did I gain weight this week? We'll see.

Here we are celebrating the holiday. My raisin gut is bulging out but full. My face is round but smiling. My spirit is recharged after a week away from work. My heart is happy. 

Is This 40?

6 months out from my 40th Birthday I find myself asking this question A LOT. Most mornings I wake up feeling like I didn't sleep. There is no recharge. The first step out of bed hurts. My initial thought is I blew out my knee. Who the heck blows out a knee getting out of bed? The second step feels like my foot might break. Is it arthritis? Already?

I make my way to the bathroom where I have a confrontation with a mirror. Joy! More gray hair overnight. I contemplate letting it grow out and embracing it. It's distinguished, right? Maybe but not at 40. Should I darken it, lighten it, shave it? All thoughts about my hair are replaced with a glance at my tummy.

When did I get this gut that resembles a raisin? Who the hell has wrinkles on their belly? I can't even give thought to my belly button. It's deformed. Gone are the days of a decade ago when I felt good about my tummy area. Granted, I never really had defined abs but I could at least wear a bikini without sending small children seeking shelter behind their parents at the pool. In all fairness to the little nuggets that call me Mommy, my raisin gut is a small price to pay for having them. Which leads me to my next point....my boobs.

After being called "No Boobie Susie" as a teen, I was so excited when I got some in my 20's. They were mine and overall, decentish. Then, pregnancy happened. I won't go into the specifics but they are best kept under wraps with a lot of support. On the bright side, they are healthy so I can't complain.

A quick shower reminds me that I have lost all the flexibility I once had. I am pretty sure I pulled my hammy when lifting my leg to shave. I have no idea how to spell hammy but since my legs look like uncooked sausage, I think hammy like a pig works.  Another gift from little darlings is the giant, rope- like vein that bulges out of my leg. It developed during my first pregnancy and was only made more disgusting during the second.

As I rush to get dressed, I am reminded yet again that I have gotten a little fluffy. My pants seldom fit. Button down shirts are no longer an option. Black. It is my best friend. My favorite color. Spanx is a close second but black and I go way back.

Breakfast consists of coffee. A lot of coffee. This is followed by the easiest thing to grab as I rush out the door with kiddos in tow. After drop offs, I have time to relax on my commute. I can sip my coffee and listen to my sports talk radio. There is nothing like sports radio to make you feel old. Any athlete over 35 is like an endangered species on the verge of extinction. What the heck does that make me? They are in fantastic shape and in some cases playing competitively at a very high level. Me? I am not. My mind starts to wander as I think about how I have ignored my physical fitness more times than not over the last two decades.

I need to make a change. I have to. It is no longer an option. A head to toe, inside out transformation is mandatory. No more excuses. I need to get fit. Fit by 40. Mentally fit. Spiritually fit. Physically fit. Yes, I want this for my kids and my husband but I NEED this for me. I have to change my habits and make me a priority.

Is this 40? No. It doesn't have to be. I can start working towards my idea of 40; what I want 40 to be for me. Yes, I want to be 30 pounds less fluffy. I want a strong core and a nice butt. I want good posture. I want healthy eating habits. I want energy and strength. I want my daughter to see me model behaviors that will help shape her and her self image. I want to be able to keep up with my son ten years from now on the soccer field, tennis court or wherever life takes him. I want to feel good about myself for my husband.

So, here I am. I am a 39 1/2 year old mother of two kiddos under the age of 5. I have 159 pounds of flab on a 5'5" frame that I want to tone up. I love donuts, coffee, cocktails, hamburgers and carbs. I loathe exercise. I truly am, the laziest Susan. But, I don't have to be. This will not be my 40.

The exact path I will take is undetermined. I know it involves Weight Watchers. I need the accountability. For now, walking will be key. Strength training is next mixed in with some Yoga (to help calm my neurosis). I plan to share the journey here with the three people that will actually read this page - my mom (who is way more fit than me), my husband (ditto on the more fit) and a friend who will take pity on me. I plan to share the good, the bad and the ugly (those will be the photos of the journey).

And with that it begins, my goal to be Fit by 40.