Two steps forward, one step back

8 Jun

Is that a negative enough subject line? Probably not but I am trying not to get too crazy with the crap. Let’s just preface this entry by saying that I ate a whole order of the weird W-shaped tater tots that Pizza SlHut has on their menu now. I was just going to order the Light n’ Fit or whatever the crap their low-fat pizza is called and be done with it. But I saw those potatoes and it was all over.

Now, don’t be fooled by the fact that I was going to buy the “healthier” pizza. I still planned on eat a lot of it. A LOT. So instead of eating a whole medium pizza, I had a few slices and a giant box of TATER TOTS! I mean, I might have gotten a few points for effort if I had just binged on the low-fat pizza. But the tater tots were over the top.

Let’s examine yesterday and see if we can root out the problem, shall we? It is, of course, that time of the month and I would really just prefer eating a house and being done with it. I am hitting the peak of my crankiness and depression, so that’s always fun. And then I tempted fate by responding to something Hannah wrote, about how a woman’s comments to her were kind of harsh on her feel-good buzz. I tried to be all smart and helpful so the universe thought a nice karmic bitch-slap was in order for my actually-stupid self.

There is a woman I work with who has taken it upon herself to be my little life coach. She’s only a few years older than me, but a mother and a sometimes-marathon runner. She’s always asking me how I doing and telling me how good I am looking, all that jazz. Most of the time, I just nod and smile. Sometimes, I feel like sharing more and we chat about stuff. But most of the time, I like, damn woman, I am not your kid. Please stop speaking to me like I am a retarded child!

So, yesterday I wore a sleeveless shirt because it is fucking hot as hell here and it matched the skirt and kicky sandals I wanted to wear. I was feeling pretty good because the shirt was actually a little big on me. Woo! Go me, right? Uh, wrong, I guess. I am sitting at my desk and FitnessMom comes over and starts chatting me. Then, sort of out of the blue she says “man, your arms are getting worse! are you doing weights or anything? they are looking pretty bad! you should lift more weights.”

Basically, I was shell shocked and just sort of stared at her and mumbled okaaaay. Of course, the next time I went to the restroom, I spent five minutes staring at the granny flab that had accumulated under my arms. It certainly wasn’t pretty, but hey! I am hard enough on myself as it is. I notice plenty of flaws, thank you very much. I don’t particularly need your running ass to point more out to me! Damn. I literally ended every trip to the restroom staring at my disgusting arms.

None of this is a legitimate excuse to stuff my face with fried representations of our moron president. But I gotta be honest with myself and put it out there so I remember how I got there. I even entered it all in my food log. We shall see how going almost 700 calories over my daily goal effects. I am going to go back down to 1200 calories for the rest of the week to see if I can maybe even it out a bit and sneak through without a gain.

One positive thing to take away from all of that is that I did get my ass out of bed this morning to work out. I set my alarm for 6:45 and gave myself a big pep talk last night about how I had to get up because those calories weren’t going to burn themselves and I needed to get back on the horse before it ran away. Or something.

Of course, I woke up at about 5:50 and decided I needed the sleep more. But when I went back to bed, I laid there for awhile, feeling like I was stuck in the middle of a desert and I hadn’t had a drink of water in days. My parched mouth made it impossible for me to pretend that last night’s binge didn’t happen. All the salt and fat from those stupid potatoes were haunting me. I ended up shutting the alarm off completely and getting up 45 minutes before I had originally planned.

I got Billy Blanks: Tae Bo: Fat Blasting Cardio and Crunch: Fat Burning Dance Party from Netflix yesterday and decided to go with Mr. Blanks this morning. It? Was hard. Like, whoa, hard. Of course, I didn’t have resistance bands so it wasn’t as hard as it could have been. Thank goddess! So I followed little Rico or whatever his name was, without the bands. It was still hella sweaty up in my apartment, though.

It’s been a looooooooong time since I did any Tae Bo and that was the beginner’s DVD from back in the day. I appreciate that he still gives examples before the moves and most of them start out slow before he screams “cardio!” and then I flail around like a dying fish on the dock. It’s weird but he really makes me feel like he gives a shit about me sometimes. Heh. I can sort of understand why he’s got such a cult following.

Even without the love, I like that he is always reminding you about proper form and stuff. Most of the time, I am doing exactly what he is reminding me not to do. It’s like he can see me! Okay, not really, but you get the picture. Of course, the scary blonde to his left was sort of freaking me out with her screeching and hooahing all the time. And I think her abs my be coming after me someday if I am not careful. One little nitpick, though. The stretching at the end was waaay too short. I spent a few minutes doing some stretches of my own. Less happy-people circle, more stretching, yo.

After I was done and slightly recovered, I made myself a small lunch and some snacks, tossing in cottage cheese and cinnamon for breakfast. The horse is happily trotting along with me riding on it as I type. All I need to do now is stop tempting fate by talking about how easy things are and giving stupid advice to other people.


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