Today is my 97th post on this blog. The big 100 is right around the corner and I think that I should mark it by some really big changes to the way I share info with you. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I will say that the change is for the better. I can't wait to share all this with you. For now just hang tight.
Moving right along to the subject matter at hand - The diet/lifestyle change is finally back on track. I hate that my kids have to go back to school so early, but I'm not at all sorry to be back on schedule. I'm back in the gym 3-4 days a week, and I'm eating regular meals at regular times. Boring, yes, but undeniably good for the body.
I have to travel to the lake house again at the end of September for Dad's 50th birthday (insert big whoo-hoo here). That is exactly six weeks from now and I would like to be down 10 pounds by then. That is a totally reasonable goal. That's 1.66 pounds per week and if I can't do that after setting stagnant all summer, well then, I just need to throw in the towel.
One last thing. Part of the Big Surprise has to do with food. (what doesn't?) Anyways, if anyone has any absolutely fabulous (original - meaning yours or a friend or family members, not previously published) recipes, healthy or otherwise, that you would like to share then please do so. Just send the recipe name and origin, recipe, and your name to keila_mb@myway.com. It really is going to be awesome!
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Back to School and I'm the Fool
My babies went back to school yesterday and yes, it is ridiculously early. I would so much rather them go to school all through May and then not go back until the end of August. Like so many other things, it would be so much better if I ran the world. So I am sad that the summer, at least for this family, is officially over. On the other hand, I will be glad to get back on some sort of schedule. My healthy lifestyle has gone woefully off course this summer and it would seem that while my kids pack up their little pencils and crayons, I will be packing up my protein bars and free weights.
Seems like there are a few lessons I need to brush up on. Like, how to get motivated to workout every morning. No choice, no options, just routine. Oh, it's a weekday? Then it's a workout day. (Weekends are still optional/light days)
I also need to relearn how to order off of a menu. . .and enjoy it. I have admittedly eaten some stuff this summer that probably won't be gracing the pages of Clean Eating magazine. Yes, that food was delicious. And I know that they strategically place such things on the menu, usually with big glossy pictures, just to lure you in. But I also know that the same restaurant that offers the delicious chicken Parmesan with all the ooey gooey melty cheesy goodness, also offers a really fresh and tasty salad with crunchy greens, juicy tomatoes, fresh mushrooms, and other vegis, all topped by a really savory piece of lemon grilled salmon. I just forget about it because it's buried at the bottom of the menu. So I guess I'll be spending more time at the bottom of the menu.
Likewise, a lesson I have never learned, is how to dine out with friends without feeling like the weirdo dieter friend. My friends are amateur foodies in the sense that maybe we don't have our own food network show, but we can definitely compete in the food Olympics. So when we go to a restaurant and I order a salad or some version of grilled chicken for the umpteenth time, they notice. "Oh, she's being good," they coo. Not sure if they are trying to be supportive, but the effect is the opposite in fact. I wind up feeling conspicuous and judged.
I guess I have my work cut out for me. I guess, like most things, that I will just have to knuckle down and do it. I am much better at avoiding, but that is no longer an option. Now maybe my daughter can explain long division to me so I will have a better time of dividing the calories in a restaurant dish.
Seems like there are a few lessons I need to brush up on. Like, how to get motivated to workout every morning. No choice, no options, just routine. Oh, it's a weekday? Then it's a workout day. (Weekends are still optional/light days)
I also need to relearn how to order off of a menu. . .and enjoy it. I have admittedly eaten some stuff this summer that probably won't be gracing the pages of Clean Eating magazine. Yes, that food was delicious. And I know that they strategically place such things on the menu, usually with big glossy pictures, just to lure you in. But I also know that the same restaurant that offers the delicious chicken Parmesan with all the ooey gooey melty cheesy goodness, also offers a really fresh and tasty salad with crunchy greens, juicy tomatoes, fresh mushrooms, and other vegis, all topped by a really savory piece of lemon grilled salmon. I just forget about it because it's buried at the bottom of the menu. So I guess I'll be spending more time at the bottom of the menu.
Likewise, a lesson I have never learned, is how to dine out with friends without feeling like the weirdo dieter friend. My friends are amateur foodies in the sense that maybe we don't have our own food network show, but we can definitely compete in the food Olympics. So when we go to a restaurant and I order a salad or some version of grilled chicken for the umpteenth time, they notice. "Oh, she's being good," they coo. Not sure if they are trying to be supportive, but the effect is the opposite in fact. I wind up feeling conspicuous and judged.
I guess I have my work cut out for me. I guess, like most things, that I will just have to knuckle down and do it. I am much better at avoiding, but that is no longer an option. Now maybe my daughter can explain long division to me so I will have a better time of dividing the calories in a restaurant dish.
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.
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.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Fried Chicken Is Not Considered a Quality Source of Protein?
This is not secret as I think I have mentioned it before. I live in the South. Specifically, Kentucky. And unfortunately most (though certainly not all) of the things you think about when you think "South" are rooted in the truth.
Yes, we say things like "y'all" and "fixin' to". Yes, we love us some big ol' hair. You know, the higher the hair, the closer to Jesus. (by the way that's Jesus with a Y - 'Jay-sus') And besides, the bigger your hair is the smaller your butt looks. Trust us, we know. We still say things like "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir" and "please" and "thank you" and no one thinks you're being excessively polite - except Yankees. On the other hand Southerners have perfected the art of the fake polite. You see when a Southern woman dislikes you, you may never know it until it's too late. We'll slop sugar all over you and say things like "How's your momma been doin'?" or "those are just the cutest shoes!" These things are code for "I've got my eye on you, so don't be trying anything". But when you get the ol' "Well, bless your heart.", especially if it comes with a head tilt - It's too late. The best thing to do is politely excuse yourself and seek cover. That woman surely hates you.
That's not to say that all southern women are just a big ol' bunch of bitches, but we can certainly hold our own. No, in fact, you will never have a truer friend. When your husband has to work away for a while don't be surprised if your yard just magically gets mowed. When your hound dog gets loose, don't worry. Someone will recognize the mutt and send him home. And if someone that you're even vaguely related to should have the misfortune of dying - expect a casserole promptly at dinner time. Which brings me to my point. Food.
Yes, when you thing Southern you think food. No one ever said, "Ummm, going up North to get me some of that good Northern food." That's ridiculous. The South is famous for it's food the world over and so much of our traditions are steeped in food and/or the preparation of it. You've got tailgating and crawfish boils, church suppers and fried chicken, homemade biscuits and sweet tea, bar-b-que and bourbon,iron skillets and julep cups, cornbread stuffing and Sunday at Mamaws. And Bob knows that there ain't nobody can cook like a Southern Mamaw.
My Mamaw Carolyn could whip up the fluffiest melt-in-your mouth biscuits. Ummmm. Biscuits just ain't been the same since she passed. And you cannot convince a Southern Mamaw that you've had enough to eat.
"No thanks, Mamaw. I believe I'm full."
"La, you didn't hardly eat enough to fill up a bird. Come on now and try some of this. This'll fill you up."
And it's your mamaw and you wouldn't dream of talking back to your mamaw. That's just sass.
So what do you do? How is a person supposed to lose weight when so much of our lives are tied up in food. It's easy for someone to say that you just need to focus on activies where food is not the main attraction. But that's just not the way of life around here. And it's not fair to me, or to my family and friends to exclude myself from situations where I know that I'll be tempted. I just need to have a little stronger will power. Make better choices. Realize that yes, I can have a piece of fried chicken, but only one, and no dessert. Or if I want dessert, then I will have just a bite, and no more. That's really what I'm after anyways. The taste. And wouldn't I rather have a 64 calorie beer when I tailgate than to have no beer at all?
So I guess what I'm saying is that life's all about compromises, y'all. You can have you a biscuit as long as you're fixin' to hit the gym afterwards. And certainly having your hair jacked to Jesus is no harm to nobody. And by all means have you a piece of that peach pie, but now don't you be eyeballin' that pecan pie. BTW a crawfish boil is, funnily enough, one southern tradition NOT steeped in fat and calories. It consists of boiling a big bunch of potatoes and corn and smoked sausage. Then boiling the crawfish (or shrimp if you prefer) in a bunch of spices. Then dump it all out on newspaper and enjoy. As long as you avoid too much of the sausage - Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Yes, we say things like "y'all" and "fixin' to". Yes, we love us some big ol' hair. You know, the higher the hair, the closer to Jesus. (by the way that's Jesus with a Y - 'Jay-sus') And besides, the bigger your hair is the smaller your butt looks. Trust us, we know. We still say things like "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir" and "please" and "thank you" and no one thinks you're being excessively polite - except Yankees. On the other hand Southerners have perfected the art of the fake polite. You see when a Southern woman dislikes you, you may never know it until it's too late. We'll slop sugar all over you and say things like "How's your momma been doin'?" or "those are just the cutest shoes!" These things are code for "I've got my eye on you, so don't be trying anything". But when you get the ol' "Well, bless your heart.", especially if it comes with a head tilt - It's too late. The best thing to do is politely excuse yourself and seek cover. That woman surely hates you.
That's not to say that all southern women are just a big ol' bunch of bitches, but we can certainly hold our own. No, in fact, you will never have a truer friend. When your husband has to work away for a while don't be surprised if your yard just magically gets mowed. When your hound dog gets loose, don't worry. Someone will recognize the mutt and send him home. And if someone that you're even vaguely related to should have the misfortune of dying - expect a casserole promptly at dinner time. Which brings me to my point. Food.
Yes, when you thing Southern you think food. No one ever said, "Ummm, going up North to get me some of that good Northern food." That's ridiculous. The South is famous for it's food the world over and so much of our traditions are steeped in food and/or the preparation of it. You've got tailgating and crawfish boils, church suppers and fried chicken, homemade biscuits and sweet tea, bar-b-que and bourbon,iron skillets and julep cups, cornbread stuffing and Sunday at Mamaws. And Bob knows that there ain't nobody can cook like a Southern Mamaw.
My Mamaw Carolyn could whip up the fluffiest melt-in-your mouth biscuits. Ummmm. Biscuits just ain't been the same since she passed. And you cannot convince a Southern Mamaw that you've had enough to eat.
"No thanks, Mamaw. I believe I'm full."
"La, you didn't hardly eat enough to fill up a bird. Come on now and try some of this. This'll fill you up."
And it's your mamaw and you wouldn't dream of talking back to your mamaw. That's just sass.
So what do you do? How is a person supposed to lose weight when so much of our lives are tied up in food. It's easy for someone to say that you just need to focus on activies where food is not the main attraction. But that's just not the way of life around here. And it's not fair to me, or to my family and friends to exclude myself from situations where I know that I'll be tempted. I just need to have a little stronger will power. Make better choices. Realize that yes, I can have a piece of fried chicken, but only one, and no dessert. Or if I want dessert, then I will have just a bite, and no more. That's really what I'm after anyways. The taste. And wouldn't I rather have a 64 calorie beer when I tailgate than to have no beer at all?
So I guess what I'm saying is that life's all about compromises, y'all. You can have you a biscuit as long as you're fixin' to hit the gym afterwards. And certainly having your hair jacked to Jesus is no harm to nobody. And by all means have you a piece of that peach pie, but now don't you be eyeballin' that pecan pie. BTW a crawfish boil is, funnily enough, one southern tradition NOT steeped in fat and calories. It consists of boiling a big bunch of potatoes and corn and smoked sausage. Then boiling the crawfish (or shrimp if you prefer) in a bunch of spices. Then dump it all out on newspaper and enjoy. As long as you avoid too much of the sausage - Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
I'm not OK, if you're not OK
What the hell is up with us as women being so competitive? No I'm not talking about who has the bigger . . .um . . .bag, or even the oft' debated Mommy Wars. I'm talking about the unspoken, but universally understood competition between all women as to who is worse off.
No one pulls us aside in Middle School as gives us that talk. "You know, Suzy, you really shouldn't be too proud of your body and you should take any opportunity to put yourself down especially when you are around other girls." Now, of course, no one says those things to girls, but we all understand them nonetheless. If your friend hated her nose, then another friend hated her flat chest, and of course you hated your ass.
Obviously everyone has something about their body that they are less than pleased with- I mean, we are women after all. But what up with the one-upmanship?
Typical conversation:
"Oh, my God! I hate my ____!"
"Please! I would trade your _____ for my _____."
"Your _____ is fine. Look at my _____. It is huge!"
Sound familiar? Sound like middle school? Of course it does. But guess what? This conversation took place just a few weeks ago at a girlfriend's house. There are a group of about 8-10 of us (at any given time) that have been friends for a long time and have a standing 'girls night' where we all try to catch up and revert back to high school. This year the majority of us turn 30, which has apparently triggered some sort of Valley Girl Ass Envy.
It reminded me of that Sex and the City episode where the women are all setting around eating pizza and discussing plastic surgery. Carrie, of course, hates her nose. Charlotte hates her thighs, and Miranda hates her arm jiggle, or some such shit. Then they all look expectantly at Samantha. Clearly she is supposed to inject her "I hate my ____." s here. But she just looks at them with a "WHAT?!" expression on her face. They are all surprised to learn that Samantha considers herself just fine just the way she is. In fact she deems herself- Pretty Damn Terrific! Samantha is, in fact, surprised to learn that her clearly beautiful friends are not satisfied with their bodies.
So there I was in my friend's living room, wishing I could be Samantha, while listening to every one lament this, that, or the other. Then it inevitably comes to be my turn. Normally I wouldn't hesitate. "God, I hate my belly!" and I do. But not tonight. While I do still wish my belly was less jello and more J-Lo, for the first time in a long time I am proud of my body.
Did you hear that, world? I am proud of my body.
No, it's not perfect. Far from it. But I have recognized that it will never be perfect. Even those Supermarket shelf Super Models do not have perfect bodies. Airbrush, anyone?
No, what has changed is my attitude about it. No, I do not have the tall lean body of Gabby Reece, but no amount of diet and exercise, or even plastic surgery, will give it to me. So why try?
No, I'm not giving up on weight loss. Just the opposite. I cannot give myself a perfect body. But I can give myself the perfect body for me. I have worked hard this year and I am stronger and leaner than I have been in a while and that is something I am very proud of. I have lost almost 40 lbs., I have more energy and better posture, and due to some serious weights my arms are now well-defined.
So the point of this little rambling is this: Maybe being perfect will not make you as happy as you imagine it will. But accepting what you have while working to make it better will definitely make you happier. The proof? Yes, I have belly jiggle but I do have a mighty fine ass!
No one pulls us aside in Middle School as gives us that talk. "You know, Suzy, you really shouldn't be too proud of your body and you should take any opportunity to put yourself down especially when you are around other girls." Now, of course, no one says those things to girls, but we all understand them nonetheless. If your friend hated her nose, then another friend hated her flat chest, and of course you hated your ass.
Obviously everyone has something about their body that they are less than pleased with- I mean, we are women after all. But what up with the one-upmanship?
Typical conversation:
"Oh, my God! I hate my ____!"
"Please! I would trade your _____ for my _____."
"Your _____ is fine. Look at my _____. It is huge!"
Sound familiar? Sound like middle school? Of course it does. But guess what? This conversation took place just a few weeks ago at a girlfriend's house. There are a group of about 8-10 of us (at any given time) that have been friends for a long time and have a standing 'girls night' where we all try to catch up and revert back to high school. This year the majority of us turn 30, which has apparently triggered some sort of Valley Girl Ass Envy.
It reminded me of that Sex and the City episode where the women are all setting around eating pizza and discussing plastic surgery. Carrie, of course, hates her nose. Charlotte hates her thighs, and Miranda hates her arm jiggle, or some such shit. Then they all look expectantly at Samantha. Clearly she is supposed to inject her "I hate my ____." s here. But she just looks at them with a "WHAT?!" expression on her face. They are all surprised to learn that Samantha considers herself just fine just the way she is. In fact she deems herself- Pretty Damn Terrific! Samantha is, in fact, surprised to learn that her clearly beautiful friends are not satisfied with their bodies.
So there I was in my friend's living room, wishing I could be Samantha, while listening to every one lament this, that, or the other. Then it inevitably comes to be my turn. Normally I wouldn't hesitate. "God, I hate my belly!" and I do. But not tonight. While I do still wish my belly was less jello and more J-Lo, for the first time in a long time I am proud of my body.
Did you hear that, world? I am proud of my body.
No, it's not perfect. Far from it. But I have recognized that it will never be perfect. Even those Supermarket shelf Super Models do not have perfect bodies. Airbrush, anyone?
No, what has changed is my attitude about it. No, I do not have the tall lean body of Gabby Reece, but no amount of diet and exercise, or even plastic surgery, will give it to me. So why try?
No, I'm not giving up on weight loss. Just the opposite. I cannot give myself a perfect body. But I can give myself the perfect body for me. I have worked hard this year and I am stronger and leaner than I have been in a while and that is something I am very proud of. I have lost almost 40 lbs., I have more energy and better posture, and due to some serious weights my arms are now well-defined.
So the point of this little rambling is this: Maybe being perfect will not make you as happy as you imagine it will. But accepting what you have while working to make it better will definitely make you happier. The proof? Yes, I have belly jiggle but I do have a mighty fine ass!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)