Don't Cry For Me Argentina
You'll have to forgive this blog post, it is going to be a little stream of consciousness and maybe it will contain some bad grammar and maybe some bad spelling because I think I'm a little high. The atomic fire ball in my foot is throbbing (thanks to way too much grocery shopping today and standing in lines at Costco and Super Walmart for way too long) and my arm hurts--story is coming up--and I'm under the philosophy if one pain pill is good then two pain pills are better and instead of knocking me out they've kind of wired me. Not in a where-are-the-cheetos way but in the I'm-trying-to-sleep-but-can't get-comfortable-and-can't-shut-my-brain-off-way. I'm thinking a little bit about how if I accidentally overdosed (which I don't think you can do off of just 2 vicodin) how everyone will think I'm Heath Ledger but mostly I'm feeling kind of sorry for myself.
Sidebar: I know you guys like the funny posts so I'll try to pepper this post with some funny lines but I am high and I am feeling sorry for myself so you'll have to just sit through a gloomy post. I've heard that whatever emotion you're feeling when you get drunk, that emotion is just magnified. I haven't had a lick of alcohol but I'm thinking that may be true of narcotics as well. To make up for my doom and gloom, in my next post I'm going to write about the time Traci and I found a bleeding guy in the parking lot of the Metra and drove him to Lockwood because we thought he had been shot. Yes I said Lockwood and not the hospital. I think you'll like that story.
Ok, so here's why my arm hurts. Today Emily and I ran out to my in-laws' house before we ran some errands. MIL Cheryl had picked up Em some new clothes and we were going out to get them. When we got there the front door was locked so we went around back. Well because I was wearing my sporty new running shoes and because I am in Boot Camp and all of a sudden think I am an athlete I was kind of like jogging and I bounded up the back path and on to the wet deck and totally wiped out. My arms and legs went flying and I somehow hyper extended my right arm and I could tell immediately I pulled or tore something in my bicep. (Upon reading this post this morning Hot Jeff has informed me that the injured part of my arm is not my bicep. Nor is it my tricep. Its right in the middle of the two and he doesn't know what muscle that is.)
(Um, seriously, I would make the worst drug addict ever--my skin is so itchy. Can you take benadryl with vicodin?)
I hopped right up and brushed myself off and carried on with my day. My arm has really hurt all day though and while at Costco pushing that huge freaking cart and lifting 175 pounds of frozen chicken breasts and laundry detergent I started to think about Boot Camp and how my arm may not feel better before Monday.
I'm going to go off on a tangent right now. You have been warned.
I know some of you that read this blog are not Christ followers so this may sound a little hooie-hooie or like the vicodin is talking but honest to goodness I feel like I'm being "attacked" by the enemy. The Bible is very clear that Satan is out to steal, kill and destroy. The enemy doesn't want us to thrive, live life to the fullest, be healthy or to be joyful. He wants us to be miserable and depressed and overweight (along with a whole host of other things). He is the opposite of light. He is the opposite of goodness. He is the opposite of health--he is death.
So when I make a choice to get healthy; to lose weight and join a class that is going to help me lose weight, be disciplined, live a healthy lifestyle, fight my depression with endorphins, live to see my kids grow up, He is going to hate that. I believe he is going to try and thwart my efforts. He may do that through tempting me to stay up too late watching TV so that I can't drag my butt out of bed at 4:45am. He may do that through tempting me with food. He may do that through injury.
Right now I am feeling really pitiful with my aching foot and now my aching arm. I pushed through the pain in my foot last week and I was really proud of myself for doing it and I planned on continuing to just keep on pushin' on (because I love to be a walking bumper sticker). To be honest though, I'm wondering if I can push through the pain in my foot, the pain in my arm and the natural pain/soreness that comes from a vigorous workout.
I don't mind being transparent. In fact, I know that I very often cross the line between transparency and TMI. So this is what you're getting tonight--me being super transparent and vulnerable and writing that I feel pathetic. I feel banged up. I feel klutzy. I feel fat. I feel incredibly discouraged. Some of that comes from my own insecurities of wanting to control what people think of me--something you know I've been struggling with for over a year now. God showed me this control issue that I have last year at women's retreat and has been gracious enough to keep bringing it to light so that I can recognize it, name it and then pray for the Spirit to help me let it go of it. So I am totally aware that some of this discouragement is really a fear that Shannon or Kara will just think I'm looking for excuses to get out of going to Boot Camp. I know that in my dysfunction I don't want Tina the instructor or Lori who stands behind me or that guy in the red shirt or the girl in the grey pants (all of them whom I've known all of one week) to think I'm a quitter or that I can't handle it.
Ok, speaking of the girl in the grey pants...you've been very patient so I'm going to toss in some funny. On Wednesday I got to Boot Camp and there was a lady in there wearing the same workout pants as me. And it just made me laugh because she looked ADORABLE in her pants and I looked like I was carrying around two Christmas hams in mine. It absolutely cracked me up. This was also the day and these were also the pants that taught me you have to wear black workout pants to class because the grey really shows off your crotch sweat. If I can teach you anything let it be that no one wants to see your crotch sweat. You're welcome.
So, where was I? Oh yes, about to jump off a metaphorical cliff.
I don't know where I'm going with all of this. I guess I just needed to get it off my chest. Do you ever wish I would just journal about this stuff instead of sharing it with the whole-wide-internet? You know I used to journal back in high school and college and I was a very melodramatic journaler and I was always copying lyrics from songs I heard on the easy listening station to try and summarize my feelings. Sometimes no one can say it better than Lionel Richie--you know what I'm sayin'?
Ok, one final thing before I take my loaded self to bed--I haven't had a label for all my Boot Camp writings so I've been putting it under the "Can You Believe I Don't Have a Label For This" label but I think I've come up with 2. I'm going to put a poll up at the top of the blog and let you guys vote the winner. Here are your choices: "(I Feel Like I'm Gonna) Boot Camp" or "Boot Camp Chronicles". You can also vote for your favorite in the comments section.
Thanks for listening. I would hug you if you were here. And like Kenneth the page says, "All good hugs last for at least 10 seconds."
Showing posts with label weight a minute. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight a minute. Show all posts
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
It Comes With an EKG
Hot Jeff and I have decided, along with 75% of other Americans, that we are going to lose a few pounds come January One. We're going the Weight Watchers route which means we'll be shying away from all things deep fried and cheesy.
Before I continue, I just have to say, I understand that no one is leaving comments because you're trying to teach me a lesson for going on such a long hiatus. However, if one person leaves a comment even implying the question, "Why does Hot Jeff need to lose weight?", I will hunt you down and kill you. And trust me, it won't be anything fun like death-by-chocolate. Are we clear?
So before we do the January-One-Weight-Watchers bit we have decided to go on an eating binge and eat whatever, whenever we want. It's been fabulous. Melissa's tacos, Jana's pizza quiche, holiday beer, donuts, mochas, butter, bacon, candy, even candy wrapped in bacon.
A couple of nights ago we were laying in bed watching 'Man vs. Food' and the host went to Springfield, Ill and tried a bunch of different restaurants. One of the places he ate at was D'Arcy's Pint, famous all over Springfield for the Horseshoe.
The Horseshoe originated in Springfield and was named because it had a large piece of ham on it that was shaped like a horseshoe. It is served on two thick slices of toasted bread, then french fries are added to it and then topped with a cheese sauce. It is pretty much insanity on a plate. It is a cardiologist's worst nightmare.
Modern Horseshoes often have a hamburger patty replacing the ham and Horseshoe cheese sauce recipes are all over the internet.
Over Christmas dinner I told my mother-in-law about it and horror crept across her very thin face. Her appropriate disapproval helped me decide that I just had to make it before the end of the week.
I decided to make it for dinner tonight. Today was our last day of Stay-cation and we had a rough day of shopping with the kids so comfort food was definitely in order. I pattied hamburger, heated oil for fries and went to work on my cheese sauce. The recipe for it follows:
2T butter
2T AP Flour
Make a roux and then add 1 C. of shredded white cheddar and 1 C. of milk. Stir thoroughly and quickly so you don't have any lumps. Then add 1/8 t. of white pepper and 1/4 t. salt. A few dashes of Worcestershire sauce finishes it off. Add more milk if the sauce is too thick; it should be the consistency of gravy. (Mmmm gravy, I need to make something with gravy before Saturday!)
To put the Horseshoe together, toast a piece of Texas toast. Put it on a plate and add your cooked hamburger patty (seasoned the way you like it). On top of that, add crinkle cut french fries. In my research of Horseshoes I found that most bloggers wrote the crinkle cut is the fry of choice as the crinkles add more "divets" for the cheese sauce. Finally, top the heap with the cheese sauce.
I'll be honest, I was disappointed with the Horseshoe. At least my version. Everything I read said the secret to an awesome Horseshoe is the cheese sauce and I didn't think mine was all that great. It was missing something and I'm not quite sure what it was. Hot Jeff on the other hand thought the Horseshoe was pretty much why God made Lipitor. He ate his right up and used the last bite of bread, burger & fry to mop up the remaining cheese sauce on his plate. And just in case you eat like my mother-in-law and don't know, mopping up sauce with bread is the highest compliment you can give Gigi or any other fat girl who has just prepared you a meal.
Hot Jeff and I have decided, along with 75% of other Americans, that we are going to lose a few pounds come January One. We're going the Weight Watchers route which means we'll be shying away from all things deep fried and cheesy.
Before I continue, I just have to say, I understand that no one is leaving comments because you're trying to teach me a lesson for going on such a long hiatus. However, if one person leaves a comment even implying the question, "Why does Hot Jeff need to lose weight?", I will hunt you down and kill you. And trust me, it won't be anything fun like death-by-chocolate. Are we clear?
So before we do the January-One-Weight-Watchers bit we have decided to go on an eating binge and eat whatever, whenever we want. It's been fabulous. Melissa's tacos, Jana's pizza quiche, holiday beer, donuts, mochas, butter, bacon, candy, even candy wrapped in bacon.
A couple of nights ago we were laying in bed watching 'Man vs. Food' and the host went to Springfield, Ill and tried a bunch of different restaurants. One of the places he ate at was D'Arcy's Pint, famous all over Springfield for the Horseshoe.
The Horseshoe originated in Springfield and was named because it had a large piece of ham on it that was shaped like a horseshoe. It is served on two thick slices of toasted bread, then french fries are added to it and then topped with a cheese sauce. It is pretty much insanity on a plate. It is a cardiologist's worst nightmare.
Modern Horseshoes often have a hamburger patty replacing the ham and Horseshoe cheese sauce recipes are all over the internet.
Over Christmas dinner I told my mother-in-law about it and horror crept across her very thin face. Her appropriate disapproval helped me decide that I just had to make it before the end of the week.
I decided to make it for dinner tonight. Today was our last day of Stay-cation and we had a rough day of shopping with the kids so comfort food was definitely in order. I pattied hamburger, heated oil for fries and went to work on my cheese sauce. The recipe for it follows:
2T butter
2T AP Flour
Make a roux and then add 1 C. of shredded white cheddar and 1 C. of milk. Stir thoroughly and quickly so you don't have any lumps. Then add 1/8 t. of white pepper and 1/4 t. salt. A few dashes of Worcestershire sauce finishes it off. Add more milk if the sauce is too thick; it should be the consistency of gravy. (Mmmm gravy, I need to make something with gravy before Saturday!)
To put the Horseshoe together, toast a piece of Texas toast. Put it on a plate and add your cooked hamburger patty (seasoned the way you like it). On top of that, add crinkle cut french fries. In my research of Horseshoes I found that most bloggers wrote the crinkle cut is the fry of choice as the crinkles add more "divets" for the cheese sauce. Finally, top the heap with the cheese sauce.
I'll be honest, I was disappointed with the Horseshoe. At least my version. Everything I read said the secret to an awesome Horseshoe is the cheese sauce and I didn't think mine was all that great. It was missing something and I'm not quite sure what it was. Hot Jeff on the other hand thought the Horseshoe was pretty much why God made Lipitor. He ate his right up and used the last bite of bread, burger & fry to mop up the remaining cheese sauce on his plate. And just in case you eat like my mother-in-law and don't know, mopping up sauce with bread is the highest compliment you can give Gigi or any other fat girl who has just prepared you a meal.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Weight A Minute
If you read this blog regularly you know that nothing is off limits as far as what I will write about. From the boring day to day to my Jesus lovin' liberal political beliefs, I write about everything (and yes, that includes my garden which I'm pretty sure bores the heck out of you).
One thing I can't recall ever writing about is weight. My weight, your weight and everyone else's weight. I don't like the subject because I think if I don't write about it then it must not exist. On the contrary, MY WEIGHT (and incidentally yours) is always on my mind.
One of the ripple effects of going to Shannon's photo shoot this weekend was thinking about my body, my image of my body and my idea of what I think your idea of my body is. I know that's all convoluted and crazy isn't it? Bear with me.
For about the last 13 years I have been battling the bulge. And not just one bulge and not just 15 pounds but 2 or 3 bulges and 40 or 50 pounds. And on top of that it feels like I am always waiting to do something special or fun until "I lose a little weight". How many of us do that? Of course when Shannon, Valerie and Suzie were all telling me this weekend that I should do a sexy shoot for Hot Jeff my reply was, "After I lose some weight" with some pretty heinous, hateful things about "my fat ass" thrown in for good measure (thank you Suzie for bringing this to my attention and reintroducing the word "heinous" to my vocabulary).
First of all, I would never say such horrible things about anyone else so why would I say it about myself? I tell my kids that 'words hurt' and 'words have power' yet I denigrate myself with my thoughts and words and never even blink an eye or consider about what my own words are doing to my self-image and self-esteem.
Secondly, its not like I'm just sitting around being fat and not doing anything about it so I should give myself at least a little credit. I'm on a weight loss program called "Take Shape for Life" and have lost 30 pounds since February (you can lose 30 pounds in 3 months too--contact my Bestie Kara Brown for details). That's nothing to sneeze at yet I find myself minimizing the hard work I've done (with my comments about myself) and sabotaging myself and future weight loss but eating some of Samily's cheesy quesadilla (more on how I broke up with cheese in another post).
I don't mean to elevate myself and make this a post all about patting myself on the back but if I'm being honest, don't I deserve it? Heck yes I do. Yet I find myself putting myself down way more times than not. I don't hold myself to the same standard I hold others and that is that weight/size does not equate beauty yet it was clear to me on Saturday when I was quick to say I wouldn't do a photo shoot without losing more weight that I determine my own beauty by a number on my jeans.
Bestie Kim loaned me her book Captivating and it is really helping to change my perspective on God's heart for me, how He sees me (and considers me beautiful) and that I am created for beauty. Nevertheless, when it comes to jean sizes and BMI's it is hard to carry that philosophy over. So, I guess this is a journey I'm on with God right now and like most of my journeys with God it always takes longer than I want it to because I let my stupid, sinful self get in the way.
When I started this post I had a lot more to write about but now the midgets are asking me for lunch and I'm distracted so I have to stop blogging to go be a mother, oh puh-leeeeese. Will love to read your comments about your negative self-talk and how you battle it.
If you read this blog regularly you know that nothing is off limits as far as what I will write about. From the boring day to day to my Jesus lovin' liberal political beliefs, I write about everything (and yes, that includes my garden which I'm pretty sure bores the heck out of you).
One thing I can't recall ever writing about is weight. My weight, your weight and everyone else's weight. I don't like the subject because I think if I don't write about it then it must not exist. On the contrary, MY WEIGHT (and incidentally yours) is always on my mind.
One of the ripple effects of going to Shannon's photo shoot this weekend was thinking about my body, my image of my body and my idea of what I think your idea of my body is. I know that's all convoluted and crazy isn't it? Bear with me.
For about the last 13 years I have been battling the bulge. And not just one bulge and not just 15 pounds but 2 or 3 bulges and 40 or 50 pounds. And on top of that it feels like I am always waiting to do something special or fun until "I lose a little weight". How many of us do that? Of course when Shannon, Valerie and Suzie were all telling me this weekend that I should do a sexy shoot for Hot Jeff my reply was, "After I lose some weight" with some pretty heinous, hateful things about "my fat ass" thrown in for good measure (thank you Suzie for bringing this to my attention and reintroducing the word "heinous" to my vocabulary).
First of all, I would never say such horrible things about anyone else so why would I say it about myself? I tell my kids that 'words hurt' and 'words have power' yet I denigrate myself with my thoughts and words and never even blink an eye or consider about what my own words are doing to my self-image and self-esteem.
Secondly, its not like I'm just sitting around being fat and not doing anything about it so I should give myself at least a little credit. I'm on a weight loss program called "Take Shape for Life" and have lost 30 pounds since February (you can lose 30 pounds in 3 months too--contact my Bestie Kara Brown for details). That's nothing to sneeze at yet I find myself minimizing the hard work I've done (with my comments about myself) and sabotaging myself and future weight loss but eating some of Samily's cheesy quesadilla (more on how I broke up with cheese in another post).
I don't mean to elevate myself and make this a post all about patting myself on the back but if I'm being honest, don't I deserve it? Heck yes I do. Yet I find myself putting myself down way more times than not. I don't hold myself to the same standard I hold others and that is that weight/size does not equate beauty yet it was clear to me on Saturday when I was quick to say I wouldn't do a photo shoot without losing more weight that I determine my own beauty by a number on my jeans.
Bestie Kim loaned me her book Captivating and it is really helping to change my perspective on God's heart for me, how He sees me (and considers me beautiful) and that I am created for beauty. Nevertheless, when it comes to jean sizes and BMI's it is hard to carry that philosophy over. So, I guess this is a journey I'm on with God right now and like most of my journeys with God it always takes longer than I want it to because I let my stupid, sinful self get in the way.
When I started this post I had a lot more to write about but now the midgets are asking me for lunch and I'm distracted so I have to stop blogging to go be a mother, oh puh-leeeeese. Will love to read your comments about your negative self-talk and how you battle it.
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