The "raping" of Dunkin Donuts...

Success is always in the preparation. I learned this hard way last Tuesday and I'm still paying for it. For 5 days I had gone 90% Paleo and was feeling phenomenal. As much as I dislike the scale, and think that it should be banned, I found myself pulling it out from under my bed, tapping it gently with my big toe to turn it on, and stepping on it with a slight hesitation. The universe was swinging in my favor and I discovered that I had lost 5 pounds in 5 days and wasn't hungry...did you get that? Wasn't hungry? Weird, awesome, amazing, fantastic, etc, etc, etc...

Monday morning was day 1 of no creamer and goodbye Dunkin donuts. The universe was, again, swinging in my favor and I survived. Tuesday morning arrives. I eat a healthy breakfast of egg whites, 1 whole egg, and a banana. I leave the house at 10:15 for an exam in Worcester. Part 1 of my exam begins at 12:30 but part 2 isn't until 2:30. Do you think I packed a lunch? Of course not. Do you know what I had to stare at in the holding room between Part 1 and Part 2? Twinkies, ring dings, pop tarts, cheetos, twizzlers, Lays potato chips, some sort of danish thing, and an assortment of other obesity-causing treats. Thank goodness I didn't have a dollar on me because that vending machine wouldn't have known what hit it. By the time I exit my exam it has been 7 hours since my last meal, and with my ramped up metabolism from being "paleo" for 5 days, I was ravenous. I was seriously trying to talk myself off a ledge as I walked to my truck to leave. "Don't do it Meg, don't stop for food. Get home and make yourself something to eat. Don't do it, you'll regret it." Suddenly, my encouraging self talk is rendered silent as I remember the single donut that should be sitting in a bag right behind me in the truck. I reached my arm around in haste to grasp the bag in my iron claw (or hand, whatever you want to call it) and I come up EMPTY. It is in those last few moments of clarity that I realize I had taken that bag and thrown it in the TRASH just before I had left for my exam. So now I'm a ravenous, un-prepared, paleo dieter, with donut on the brain. Before I know what's happening I'm racing up the highway with a single motivation...must get to a Dunkin Donuts. I hit Gardner in less then 25 minutes and I'm pulling into my favorite DD drive-thru. Still paralyzed with starvation I order 1 large ice coffee (cream, liquid sugar, shot of coconut), 2 glazed sticks, and a sausage, egg, and cheese on a croissant. The teller hands me my bag of donuts and coffee while the sandwich finishes. I'm tempted to devour the donuts as I wait but I didn't want to scare the poor girl working the window, and so I wait, sort of, patiently. I'm not even sure of the sequence of events which occurred there after. I know there was a brutal raping of my favorite Dunkin Donuts, and I'm pretty sure there's a warrant out for my arrest.

Fast forward 7 days and you will find yourself sitting next to me while I write this. Ashamed, tormented, defeated, regrettable, me. I definitely learned the importance of preparation and have suffered the consequences of my, "If you give a moose a muffin" shenanigans.

Tomorrow is June 1, and this girl will not be side tracked for one more day. My short term goal is to give up Dunkin Donuts for the entire month of June. I'm starting with that because I know that I need a short term goal, and I also know that if I can make it through June then I will probably try to make it thru July, and so on. But I just can't think about July right now (thanks Marianne! I'm taking a page out of your playbook), so we're going to start with June.

The Last Strong-hold...

is my creamer and my DD ice coffees. There are few things in this world that I enjoy as much as an orgasm: synthetic french vanilla creamer in my morning coffee, and a dunkin donuts ice coffee are two of them, and I like them multiple times a day.

I have spent most of my spare time, recently, reading up on eating paleo. I've been purging the house of non-paleo foods (pretty much anything in a can or box that didn't grow in the ground or come from a mother). The last two dinners I prepared using lean grass fed beef left my family drooling for more. Tonight I made lean burgers and sauteed up some sweet onion and red pepper strips in extra virgin olive oil. Honestly, one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten. It's not really all that hard to eat like this, as long as the food is in the house to prepare. I'm eating 3 meals a day and not feeling hungry...hell must be freezing over.

My only complaint about my new lifestyle is the unexpected, and also instantaneous, urge to poop that seems to come at the LEAST opportune times (such as minutes before taking the group fitness stage to teach a class). I am convinced that since I am, pretty much, the last fitcon instructor who has not peed their pants then my penance will be that I am the first fitcon instructor to poop my pants on stage. I can't imagine a more perfect person for it to happen to. Bring on the roughage!

I have committed to "quitting" cancer-causing creamer and dunkin donuts, for good, on Sunday. It's my last strong hold. I can do without cereal, rice, bread, milk, yogurt, cottage cheese...but my daily, multiple, as-good-as-an-orgasm, DD ice coffee is incredibly heart breaking to stop. So this is what it feels like to be in an abusive relationship? (no, I don't really think it's comparable, but I hope you understand the metaphor. You know something is terrible for you, could possibly kill you, but you just can't seem to walk away. Make sense?)

"This week, try staying firmly rooted in the present, not regrets from the past or worries about the future. Your power exists in the now." -Jillian Michaels

I love it when the universe stops and talks to me! So why does this apply to me? Because I live my life about 5 years down the road and yet always dwelling on the past. I am NEVER in the present. This is especially true as it relates to my dieting history. My focus is so firmly rooted on what I will eventually look like IF i lose the weight that when I have a little bobble in the road I just give up all together. I never embrace the moment or the small triumphs I have.

I have a gut feeling that "this time" is going to be different. I can only explain it because this is the first time that I'm actually researching, planning, contemplating, etc before I start. I'm trying to avoid an inevitable failure because I lacked preparation. It requires quite a bit more discipline then what I've been used to, and that's probably exactly what I need. I'm prepping for my first 30 day challenge...I will let you know when I finally get to start it :)

The beginning to an end...hopefully

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Who are we kidding? It's a diet, NOT a lifestyle change.

There are two things that I know, unequivocally, about myself. 1) My longest streak on a "lifestyle change" is 23 days. 2) I am as consistent as a New England weatherman. For the life of me I can't figure out what my commitment issue is. Why do I have such a hard time with this "Discover a Better Me" thing? Last year I lost 50 pounds and this year I gained 50 pounds. So I'm breaking even! WooHoo! If I was the economy then I wouldn't be doing too badly. I am so desperate to be the smallest version of me possible that I have bought, tried, and given away every diet book, idea, and pill there is. I love the whole, "It's not a diet, it's a lifestyle change!" revolution. Seems like a great concept except for one thing: my lifestyle change is simply living the rest of my life on a diet! Ahhhhh!!!!!!

On January 5, 2010 I will begin my second "Biggest Loser" competition at my gym. The first time I made it through 3 weeks. I'm hoping that my Diet and Exercise ADD doesn't kick in until after the 12 week program. For once in my life I'd like to finish something that I started! Mind you, January 5 is a good 3 weeks away from this point. Do you know how much damage I could do from now until then? I also have this tendency to eat as if it's the last time I'll ever have solid food again before the start of my diet. So I'm making a little mini-goal of getting under 200# on my home scale by the start of the competition. Seriously though, who starts a diet at Christmas? This girl!

I've got a few things looming over me. My 30th birthday at the end of March. Potential nursing school starting in September. My oldest son entering middle school. All of these things give me the desire to feel my best, be my healthiest, and be my fittest. If I don't do it now when will there ever be a better time? Life just gets more complicated with each passing year. My time is right now.

Since my last post I have discovered a few valuable things:1) Lace can stretch a wicked lot. Thus, the one size fits all Lacie panty at Victoria Secret is legit. 2) Satin does not stretch AT ALL! Thus, the one size Santa Garter at Victoria Secret is a lie. 3) Falling off the step box during the speed step track is actually more scary for the people around you then it is for you. 4) Spending loads of your husbands $$$$ when he doesn't treat you nicely actually makes you feel a little bit better.

Back on the weight loss train...choo-choo!!!!

So today was day three of dragging my frumpy old rear-end back into the gym. Mind you, when I stopped working out back in May (to focus on my ultra intense microbiology class) I was looking pretty good, so it was a humbling experience to tumble back in with an extra 50 pounds on my body. That's like throwing a first grader on your back and walking around like it's normal! Needless to say, I've got a lot of work ahead of me. Monday was an 8am group training class which I love because I can cheat a little and get away with it. When the trainer is focusing on another group member I might not go "as" low in the squat or lunge that I would if I knew he was looking. I still ended up crippled regardless of my feeble attempt to cheat the system. I also left a massive sweat stain outlining the shape of my butt on the stretch mat. I try to use these horribly embarrassing moments to change the world, so I shared the information with all the group members and we enjoyed a hearty belly laugh. My motto: "Life is short! Learn to laugh at yourself!" Well, that and, "Life is short! Drink coffee to do crap faster!" They both work really well for me :0

Tuesday, day two, was an early morning step class with one of my favorite instructors/people in the world. I was still hobbling around like an 80 year old hip replacement patient, so I chose to use my bench flush to the floor. I decided to avoid any bouncing at all (okay, lets be honest...220 pound girls don't bounce, hop, or jump...we jiggle!) and chose the "low impact" alternative. I'm pretty sure the instructor was calling me out on it all class...but I pretended to ignore her and decided that she must be yelling at someone else to pick up the intensity. Hey, I'm getting pretty good at beating the system.

That leads me to today. Personal Training one on one. Oh, please kill me now! I can't even lower myself to sit on the toilet. I made the mistake of bracing myself by placing my hands on the seat, but when my legs gave way I came crashing down on my fingers. Contrary to popular belief...there's not as much cushion back there as you would expect. Now I use one hand on the tub and one on the sink counter and try to slowly lower myself without instigating a shoulder injury. The stairs are impossible, and I find myself flopping down on the couch as if I'm playing a "trust" game from back in grade school. I can only imagine how ridiculous I look as I'm shuffling along to drop my daughter off at preschool. Can I please have a blinking neon light over my head with an arrow which reads, "Friends shouldn't let fat friends have personal training." I honestly have to plan my schedule with an extra 5 minutes because that's how long it takes me to get into the truck.

So I show up at the gym with 15 minutes to go before my session begins. I figured it would be wise to try to warm up the legs on the elliptical before the torture would commence. At this point I'm trying to come up with anything creative that will lessen the pain, even if by only a tiny fraction. Right? 10 minutes later I'm being lead away to "stretch" before hitting the weights. As the trainer walks in front of me, I notice the back of his shirt reads, "SATAN" (a pet name from a group of his clients) and I think, "can I go home now?" The next 60 minutes were a punishing plethora of strength training exercises that took me from saddling up in some green rubber bands that attempt to aide me in pull-ups- to using sex position #4 from page #27 to correctly execute dead lifts, reverse dumbbell flys, and dumbbell rows. Who knew?! All I remember is a lot of sweat, and a quick therapy session when I offered up information because I was so deliriously full of pain that I couldn't stop myself from saying it. Ah, life is short! Say crap that makes others feel better about themselves!

Here I sit 2 hours later, because I can't get up, blogging about the start of my second weight loss journey. I'd like to think that this will be the last time I have start this, but the odds are truly against me. If anything, this will be another journey into self discovery for me. I don't always find my destination, but I always learn something along the way that reshapes my belief system and, I think, makes me a better person.

He Language vs She Language

It has occurred to me lately that there is a great possibility that my husband and I are speaking two different languages. I know this isn't shocking to most of you. Many famous psychologists have written books that made millions of dollars from people hoping that the book had the key to unlock the mystery of their spouse. Right? So it seems to me that with ALL of that information out there, that we should somehow have found a way to interpret and communicate through each others special languages. How come we haven't figured it out yet?

Here's the latest example, in a long line, of a huge miscue that has led to the unfortunate typing of this post :)

This past weekend, my husband and I had the opportunity to go to a remarkable wedding. A close friend of mine from high school was getting married, and it was simply breathtaking. She picked out every last detail to perfection. I count myself lucky to have been invited. Two days before the special event, I shopped in another close friends closet for that perfect outfit that shouts, "I'm sorta hot" and yet makes you feel comfortable and you don't need to suck in the whole time. Luckily, she had the perfect shirt! I paired it off with a sleek pair of black dress pants, and hot little pair of slingback pumps. I felt fabulous! Apparently, I was the only one who noticed. My husband either didn't get the memo, or went blind for the day and had NOTHING to say. I tried to encourage a compliment out of him by paying a compliment to him first. Isn't that pathetic? But in the desperate need of reaffirmation from the man who sleeps next to me at night, I tried with great effort for a bit of repayment from him. It might have well have been the microwave in the gourmet cooking store. No where to be found. So much for coercion..

Thankfully, I was slightly caught up in the moment of my friends special day, and the magic that weddings seem to create, that I managed to overlook my husband's obvious idiocy. The evening passed effortlessly and before I knew it, it was time to go home. At some point, the lack of a compliment must have latched on to my internal "self-esteem" organ like a tape worm, and has been growing ever since. When it reached the stage where my body could no longer contain the foreign entity, I was forced to "spill" it out here.

This is where I make the "She Language vs He Language" connection. Are you ready for it? What I am about to say is almost as easy to grasp as the now very popular phrase, "He's just not that into you". Okay here it is:

She Language: "Honey, you look great tonight"
He Language: nothing verbal. He will grab your breast in agreement

She Language: "I'm so in love with you"
He Language: nothing verbal. He will most likely grope you about an hour later while you are trying to do dishes with your yellow rubber gloves on.

She Language: "Lets talk"
He Language: smacks your ass = maybe later

So there you have it ladies. While we (females) have lived gloriously in our Homosapien bodies for thousands of years, our male counterparts have bought into the whole "evolution" theory and have been living as primates. I suppose the next time you (female) have something important to communicate with your spouse (male), then I suggest yanking on his penis, squeezing his testicles ,and thrusting your tongue in his ear :) He might understand you that way, or in the very least, be incapacitated enough to listen to you.