Friday, May 28, 2010

Friday Quickie 5/28

Today is the last day of school for my babies. I am looking forward to being lazy with them this summer. No schedule - no problem. But that will have to wait a few days. Tomorrow we take off for another torture ride road trip.
We evidently lost our minds during the planning stages. We're driving about 14 hours to our lake house in northern Wisconsin, staying a week, then driving 14 hours home. Then two days later turning around and driving 9 hours to the beach for a week, then 9 hours back.
There is no good way to take a road trip without stopping at a convenience store. You need gas and if you're me, you need to pee. A lot. Which brings us to road trip food. My favorites- Combos, Slim Jims, Snickers, Mt. Dew - are all off the menu this year. Totally not going to do that to myself. So it will be 90 calorie granola bars, turkey jerky, and if I'm really lucky, a York peppermint patty and a diet Mt. Dew for me.
Pray for my road rage.

10 Things I Hate About Summer

1. The kids are home, which I actually love, but when my husband goes back to work it seriously cuts into my gym time. And if you think that you can get in a good workout with a hula hoop, some hand weights and a treadmill, well, you've clearly never tried to do it to the tune of "Stop it!" & "I'm telling!".

2. Hot dogs. Or more specifically Bratwurst. There is no such thing as a GOOD turkey bratwurst. They are out there, sure, but we're talking about GOOD here. I'm one of those people that is not real big on substitutions. If I can't have exactly what I want, then I'd just as soon have nothing at all.

3. The heat. Oh, God, the heat. I hate it. I hate the humidity. Heat and humidity are not the big girls friend. And let's not even get into what it does to my hair. I'm not one of those blessed with curly hair and I hate it when those girls bitch about how the humidity makes their hair so big. My hair is flat as a flitter and any humidity just plasters it to my head. Not a good look.

4. Teenage girls. Yes, I used to be one and yes, I probably flaunted it. And to be honest, if I had known how annoying it was to thirty-something women I probably would have still done it. But I really hate all of them with their skinny little waists and perky firm boobs. What do they know? Youth really is waisted on the young.

5. The pool. I think that all women, no matter what size, hate bathing suit season. It is such a cliche, but most universal truths usually are. Even though we all have body issues and we know that no body is perfect we all hate putting on that bathing suit and going out among other people. And yes, we really do judge each other. Any one who says otherwise is a big fat bathing suit liar.

6. Cookouts. This goes back to the hot dogs and bratwurst, but it also goes beyond. It seems that every weekend of the summer is filled with someone or another's cookout. Hot dogs, hamburgers, barbecue, potato salad, pie, ice cream. . .

7. Vacation. Sure vacation has its high points. And most vacations are quite enjoyable, else why would we do it. But it is next to impossible to lose weight on vacation. I can almost always manage to maintain, but losing - not so much.

8. Shorts. I don't care what you say. I can not wear shorts. Even when I was younger/thinner I could not pull off shorts. Which is a shame because I actually have pretty long legs, it's just I have never been able to find a pair of shorts that flattered. And don't get me started on capris.

9. Dog hair. I know this has nothing to do with losing weight and the whatnot, but every year at about this time my do decides to shed. I don't know how he is not bald. In the past few days I have vacuumed up enough hair to make a whole other dog.

10. Beer, wine, and margaritas. I actually love those things and that is the problem. To me it is not summer with out hanging out on my back deck with my friends sharing gossip and a glass of good summer wine or beer or margarita or whatever.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Just When I thought I'd Run Out of Ways to Hurt Myself

So, I have basically managed in just thirty short years to injure myself in a surprising number of ways. I have fallen down more times than I can count, breaking my foot/ankle three times. I've had some amazingly gruesome cuts all received in mind-numbingly dull ways. 13 stitches from cleaning a light fixture, anyone. And the piece de resistance, I am the only person I know who has paper-cut my eyeball. No, you read it right. Paper cut my eyeball. Any time you can make your doctor say, "you did what?" you know you've really done something. I thought I was getting a really cool eye patch, but alas I'm not near cool enough to rock the pirate look.
But even the eye didn't keep me down for long. I was back in the gym the next day. Now, however I have managed to do something that astounds even me. I don't even know what to call such an injury. You know how little kids bump their heads and get what is called a goose egg bump? Well, I have one. On  the top of my foot. For real. I could explain, but it's a really long story and I come off not too bright. So we;ll just say that I dropped something large and ridiculous (not ridiculously large, just to be clear) on my foot. Now I can't stand to walk on it and it throbs with my heartbeat as it has swollen to about half again its normal size. I actually have a hump-backed foot. WTH???
I am still able to break out the trusty hula hoop which I have made it up to about 20 minutes on. (did I mention that it's a 5 lb hula hoop) And I can of course work on my arms. So I fully expect to have some rockin' guns by the time my foot heals up. I guess I can look forward to the pool. But I just wanted to state for the record that this SUCKS! I am really the worst patient. Any other time I would scheme for ways to lay around with my feet up. But now, damn it! I hate the ice and the elevation and I hate having to alter my eating plan to account for the lack of calorie burn.
Guess I'll hobble off on vacation. And really, who am I kidding? Like I was going ot do a lot of exercising on vacation. I can still paddle a canoe and cast a fishing pole. All in all it should be a normal vacation.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Royally Ironic

This post has absolutely nothing to do with weight loss. I just thought this was a funny little ironic twist in the life of Keila and thought to share. Who couldn't use a funny on Monday, right? Allow me to explain. . .
For Christmas last year I decided to research and create my husband's family tree. I'm a huge history buff and even majored in it in college so the research was fun for me. It took me about three months but I finally made it as far back to 1500s Germany (a part of France at the time) and a family with a long history of beer making. No real surprise there. There were even a few shady characters hiding in the leaves of his family tree. You know, the usual horse thief, bigamist, even a crooked politician from Albany, but it was as nothing when I started researching my own tree.
A few years ago my grandfather had done the paternal line of my tree and so I was pretty much halfway there. It was interesting. Two passengers on the Mayflower, a Revolutionary war hero, a real-life character from a Shakespearean play, and even a burned-at-the-stake heretic. Interesting, yes.
Then I started on my mom's side and frankly, I didn't expect to find much more than the usual bits of Scotch-Irish immigrant history typical of our region. Boy was I wrong.
Imagine my surprise when I started to notice something around the middle of the thirteenth century. I started noticing names like De Welles (my great-grandmother was a Wells), and Neville, and De Broas, and what the hell - Plantagenet. Perhaps these name mean nothing to you, but to my history loving heart they meant everything. Could it be? Could I possibly be descended from royalty? My mind was a blur. It must be, I thought. In my head I've always known I was a queen. Ha Ha!
So I did what any sane person would do. I dug further. Drum roll please. . . I am indeed descended from royalty from several different lines, only one of which being legitimate. The really interesting finds are that I am directly descended from a bastard son of King Henry II, one William Longspee (or Longspear) through his infamous mistress Rosamond (or Rosalyn) Clifford. Ooooohhhh, juicy. Wait for it, though, it gets even better.
I am also descended from another son of King Henry II. A certain John Lackland. You may be more familiar with him as King John I. You know, of Robin Hood fame. Brother to King Richard the Lionheart, the evil Prince John and all that. My line of descent to him comes to me courtesy of another Royal bastard. This time his daughter Joanne, who went on the marry the Prince of Wales (its own country at the time).
So there you have it. What started out as my interest in my royal bloodlines has turned into a discovery of ill repute. Some people I suppose would think it was shameful. I myself think it's awesome!!! Just think, I am descended from a long line of cheats, scoundrels, and whores. Turns out the bad attitude is genetic. History has it's use after all.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Hoopin' Happy

The five pound weighted hula hoop has turned into a bit of an obsessive nightmare. We are in a love/hate relationship right now. I hate to love the hoop and it loves to hate me. Yes, I know that the hoop is an inanimate object, but I assure you the thing has a personality all its own.
When I first started out it was so very hard. I wanted to zig and the hoop wanted to zag. Then I became inspired to turn some music on and just as Shorty got her apple-bottom jeans and those boots with the fur I got my rhythm.
For the past week my hips have shaken more than a little Polynesian girl on crack. The hoop lays in the middle of my living room floor (try explaining that to your in-laws) and calls to me. In just this one week I can feel my core getting stronger. Evidently the hoop works muscles that I didn't know I had. Something else new on the scene is this great looking bruise I have developed over my right hip bone. It's very colorful and shaped like West Virginia. I've hooped through the pain and my fellow hoopers tell me that once this bruise is gone it is unlikely that i will get another unless I move up to a heavier hoop which is also unlikely.
All in all, I give the weighted hula hoop a very big thumbs up. It's low impact, portable (which means I can do it while I watch TV) and it's just a lot of freakin' fun.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Skinny Bitches part 2

Oh my god, they are everywhere! No matter where I look or which way I turn there is a skinny bitch standing there to try an make me feel bad about myself. Two years ago their arsenal of skinny jeans and teeny bra straps would have sent me sailing straight for the nearest ice cream stand. But not today. Somewhere along the way I have managed to turn all that intimidation into pure unadulterated hatred.
I don't hate all thin women. I even get testy when someone says the oft' repeated "real women have curves" Well, as it happens I know plenty of strong, healthy, beautiful, REAL women who just happen not to have curves. But we are not talking about them.
We are talking about the chain smoking, view from above their noses, red bull & vodka, SKINNY BITCHES.
"I don't know what it is, I can eat all I want to and never gain any weight!" Really? And you felt the need to tell me this why. . .? Oh, yeah - now I see. I'm supposed to verbally acknowledge your physical superiority. Bite me, slim!
And skinny jeans - seriously. Don't even get me started. I recognize that there are many different body types and that not all bodies can wear all fashion. But, come on. The only women that can wear skinny jeans (and look good)  are super-model tall and twice as skinny. Out of my large group of friends I can think of only one woman who can authentically rock a pair of skinny jeans.
And speaking of fashion. . .
Raise your hand if you've ever gone shopping and been really excited to run into a sale only to realize that the only size left in the item you want is an XS. Wake up fashion industry and department store buyers! Wouldn't it stand to reason that if you consistently have only XS sizes left over and all the XL and L fly off the shelves before they barely get hung up that maybe, just perhaps, you should order more XL and L and let the XS fend for themselves. They'll be OK - they have skinny jeans.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Hoop Dreams

Just call me a fool. I bought a hula hoop today. A weighted hula hoop. A 5 pound weighted hoop. Now to get a full and accurate picture of my foolishness you should know that before today I didn't even know how to hula hoop. Hey, don't judge! It's harder than it looks.
So I get the stupid thing back to the safety of my own home only to have my dog look at me in that way that says, "you're kidding me with this, right?" I turned on Rachael Ray and I hooped and I hooped until finally I got a little wiggle in my jiggle and hula-ed my somewhat substantial ass off.
Allegedly, for ever three minutes spent hooping burns 100 calories (give or take based on both the size of the hoop and the weight of the junk in your trunk). This remains to be seen, but I definitely felt like I got a proper abdominal workout.
Plus I have a huge bruise cropping up across my right hip-bone. Five pounds orbiting around my jelly roll is evidently nothing to sneeze at. But hey, what's a little internal bleeding among friends if it can give me abs of steel?

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Pounds vs. Inches

Today was weigh-in day. I've worked really really hard for the past few weeks trying to prepare for this day. Ate all my vegis, drank all my water, did all my exercises (and then some). And for what? That scale is a bitch!
I've actually been feeling pretty good about my body lately. My waist has been way trimmer and my arms, well, lets just say you better get your tickets. Tickets? To the gun show, baby. OK, totally lame, I know. But I've done enough triceps rows and lateral lifts and weighted punches to equal rowing around the world. So shut up!
I even got into those infamous white pants on Mother's Day. I didn't just get into them - I rocked them. They weren't at all tight and they kissed my curves in all the right places.
And, Ta-Da! I had lost almost 6.5 inches (3.5 from my waist) in two months. So, I should be feeling pretty good about myself right now? And I do. But what's the rub?
I had actually GAINED almost one pound in the same time frame. Yes, I know it's just a pound, but still. I'm trying to lose not gain. And yes, I know that the way my clothes fit and how my body looks is WAAAAY more important than any number on a scale. But, Jesus F-ing Chocolate Covered Christ On A Pogo Stick!!! I've worked really hard and I want those numbers going south, damn it.
I guess that short of going on a lettuce and water diet, I'm going to have to get serious here. Maybe a three day cleanse is in order or who knows what. The next weigh in is going to be different if I can help it. I wonder how much hair weighs? I'm due for a hair cut.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

All By Myself. . .Don't Wanna Be All By Myself Anymore

As a stay-at-home mom of two very active and loudly opinionated kids I spend a lot of my time fantasizing about what I would do if I actually had a weekend to myself. No kids, no husband, just me. Now, don't get me wrong. I love my kids (and Hubs too, I guess), but come on. What mom hasn't fantasized about a big ol' bubble bath, some wine, a good book, maybe a girlie movie or some such foolery - and NO ONE to share it with. The problem is, I never really expected to get it.
My kids left yesterday and all I can think about is a quote from Spock (you know, the Vulcan. Star Trek). "Having is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is highly illogical, but often true." Don't ask me why I know a quote from Star Trek. I don't know. I suspect that Spock actually lifted the quote from someone else. But that's beside the point. The point being that I had built up this dream weekend in my head and the reality just kind of, well. . .sucks.
I spent last night with my best girl friends and it was sooooo much fun. Let me just say that if you have never gotten all dressed up in your fanciest clothes and gone to eat at a truck stop with eight of your best, and similarly dressed, friends - you don;t know the fun you're missing. But after the last friend left my house at midnight last night, and all the wine glasses had made their way to the sink, and all the trash in the cans, I just kind of sighed in boredom. There were no babies to check on, no alarm to set, not even a hubby to snuggle up with.
I decided that I would no waste today. It has been a gift to have this time alone and I am going to use it to my advantage. Sooo, I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish today. Go to gym - check. Wrap mothers day presents - check. Make green bean salad for mothers day cookout - check. Do my extra 30 minutes of cardio - check. Bath the dog - check. Do a load of delicates - check. By this point it was only 1:00. No lie. WTH? Why is it that I can barely get half this stuff done before bedtime when the kids are here?
So I went to WalMart. Big mistake. Huge huge mistake. It is not too far removed from the first of the month and it's the last day before mothers day. Let's just say that the website is not just a novelty. As with most cliches, there is always truth behind them. I think I saw the third woman down in aisle 3.
So now I'm home. It's still only 5:00. I think I'll see what's on TV and then maybe take that bubble bath that sounded so good previously. I have at least learned something from this whole episode though. You know how you see dogs chasing cars and you wonder what they would do with it if they caught it. I know. Evidently they would do the same thing I have done all day. Stand around scratching their heads going, "Well, hmmph. Now what?"

Friday, May 7, 2010

Friday Quickie 5/7

Tonight I am going on a mystery date with my friends. There are about 8 of us who have been friends forever and it used to be that we could get together on someone's couch and spend a really fun night. But now we are ALL married and some of us have kids and some of us have jobs and some of us have *gasp* other friends. So now, apparently, we have gotten to the age where we have to have activities to entertain us.
Tonight my BFF and sister-in-law is planning what we will be doing and if any of you knew her you would be nervous too. It could really be anything from going to the zoo to going to a male strip club to attending a murder mystery dinner. I guess the only appropriate attire for all of those venues would be. . .dark sunglasses.
We have now officially become one of those groups of friends you read about in Southern Living magazine who goes on trips together once a year. Next time is my turn and I really want us all to go to Fitness Ridge, but on the other hand I still want them to love me when it's over. So I'm thinking day spa or at least pedicures.