Sometimes I think this blog should be called "Bride VS Food and Herself and Others and also some bitching when I feel like it."... mostly because I have decidedly opted to talk about much more than food. Today, I would like to talk about something in my past, that I had have held onto for years. Here goes.
As a theatre major in college, after an audition, one generally goes to the director to get feedback after the audition. I have no recollection of what this audition was for or what part I wanted, but I do remember this. The professor I sat down with explained to me that he was not thrilled with the idea of casting me because I was beginning to get what he called "Puffy". At the time, I was completely appalled at what he was saying. "Puffy, he called me PUFFY". I remember telling people that, incredibly pissed off.
But why was I so mad? I mean, thinking back, he was right. I was on a slippery slope to fatness and he was just trying to warn me. I was too immature to realize that at the time. It was much easier to be angry, call him a pig and loathe him for the rest of my days in college.
The funny thing is, I think I was only getting to be about 135-140 pounds at the time. This is a weight I would kill for today. The reason he thought I was "puffy" was that I had started out at that school as a very, very tiny Dani. I think when I entered college I was probably 115-120 easy. How did I put on all that weight over time? Well you know how college is, drinking and partying all the time. Especially us theatre majors. I know we may seem like major dorks, but come to a party and you will be shocked at how many beers we can get down during a game of flip cup.
Now as I sit here, 149 pounds (I lost one more since my last complaining blog!), I think to myself, why didn't I do this life change then? I have no answers, but I can say that I am 100% grateful that I have made so many changes as of late. And I suppose I am now less angry at my professor for calling me puffy. I am more thankful that he tried and only wish I had listened then.
Today, Rosa and I jogged about 4 laps around the park we go to. That is HUGE for me. I am not a runner by any stretch of the imagination, but I really put my all into it today and couldn't be prouder. We did at least 100 sit ups each and some push ups to boot. And you know what's amazing? It feels GOOD to work out now. Before I would have hated to do any of the things I listed above, but now it's fun! We have a good time and I couldn't be happier that I am making these changes, even it if it takes months to get all the weight off. If anyone is reading this and thinking they hate the gym or working out in general, trust me, if I can do it, you can do it! I am the president of the lazy ass club, after all, I should know.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
3 LBs... really?
I did something that many friends encourage me not to do. I have been looking at my weight on the scale every day for last, I don't even know how many days. I mean, I know I shouldn't "live by the scale", as Jimmy puts it, but I can't help myself! I am working out so much and eating right, that I am excited to see what drops off. However, it is not exciting at all. So far, for about a month now, all I've lost is like a measly 3 pounds.
I know, I know! Some of you will say, "that's OK Dani"... "your doing fine Dani"... however I can't help to feel a bit of disappointment. It just seems like I should have lost more weight than I have so far. I suppose one should have more patience than I do, after all, I've only been at it for about 5 weeks.
Why does this disappointment scare me? Well, I have a nasty history of getting impatient and then giving up. I am really trying to not do that this time. I really want to be able to walk down the aisle in April and be proud that I stuck to my goals, but it gets really hard when all you see is 3 pounds difference.
Have I mentioned that I am an expert whiner? I could complain about my body til I am blue in the face.
I suppose I have noticed some changes besides the lack of change in the scale. So far my face seems to be clearing up pretty nicely. I mean I've never had nasty acne or anything, but I do get the occasional U zone stuff. I don't know if U zone is something that dermatologists are aware of, but I have decided that's what it is. If you draw a line from one cheek to the other and include your chin, it forms a U, just saying. But this problem area on my face, seems to be lessening. Thank God for that!
Besides the face, I think my stomach may be flattening out a little. However, I am not fully convinced nor will I show anyone until I am fully satisfied. Also, I can tell that my quads and calves are starting to look like they have definition, which is nice I guess. But why can't it all just change faster??? Why can't my thighs magically stop touching each other when I walk? Why can't my love handles go away first? Why, GOD, WHY? I just don't get it. UGH.
The moral of the story today, kids, is: don't be impatient like me. If you are working out like I am and eating right, the changes will come and you will be so happy when they do. I wish I could say I totally practice what I preach, but I don't. I instead choose to bitch and moan until the changes come, and make you all read about it. So there. Fingers crossed that by Christmas I can add at least 9 more pounds to the tally! And trust that you will hear all about it if I don't!
I know, I know! Some of you will say, "that's OK Dani"... "your doing fine Dani"... however I can't help to feel a bit of disappointment. It just seems like I should have lost more weight than I have so far. I suppose one should have more patience than I do, after all, I've only been at it for about 5 weeks.
Why does this disappointment scare me? Well, I have a nasty history of getting impatient and then giving up. I am really trying to not do that this time. I really want to be able to walk down the aisle in April and be proud that I stuck to my goals, but it gets really hard when all you see is 3 pounds difference.
Have I mentioned that I am an expert whiner? I could complain about my body til I am blue in the face.
I suppose I have noticed some changes besides the lack of change in the scale. So far my face seems to be clearing up pretty nicely. I mean I've never had nasty acne or anything, but I do get the occasional U zone stuff. I don't know if U zone is something that dermatologists are aware of, but I have decided that's what it is. If you draw a line from one cheek to the other and include your chin, it forms a U, just saying. But this problem area on my face, seems to be lessening. Thank God for that!
Besides the face, I think my stomach may be flattening out a little. However, I am not fully convinced nor will I show anyone until I am fully satisfied. Also, I can tell that my quads and calves are starting to look like they have definition, which is nice I guess. But why can't it all just change faster??? Why can't my thighs magically stop touching each other when I walk? Why can't my love handles go away first? Why, GOD, WHY? I just don't get it. UGH.
The moral of the story today, kids, is: don't be impatient like me. If you are working out like I am and eating right, the changes will come and you will be so happy when they do. I wish I could say I totally practice what I preach, but I don't. I instead choose to bitch and moan until the changes come, and make you all read about it. So there. Fingers crossed that by Christmas I can add at least 9 more pounds to the tally! And trust that you will hear all about it if I don't!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Subway: Eat Fresh or Eat Angry?
Going to Subway is always an adventure for me. First of all I am the worlds pickiest person. I also happen to take my food VERY seriously. So a lot of times, I tend to get very ticked if things with my food do not go my way.
Yesterday, Rosa and I were not feeling up to par, so instead of walking we decided to go get lunch at Subway. Besides their delicious subs, the people of Subway have a little scrabble game going where you can win all kinds of fun prizes. We arrived at our local Subway, and there is a line out the door. Is there a sale at Subway and we did not get the memo? I mean, I know they have 5 dollar foot longs and all, but this is a bit much. I considered telling Rosa we should leave, but keep my mouth shut. Patience is not my number one virtue when it comes to food.
As we approach the line, I notice the gentlemen behind the counter is staring at us. I hate people who stare. Not only is it rude, but it makes me wonder what the heck is on me that he is staring at. I know it can't be my stunning good looks, because I do not get dressed up for work, so there must be something on me that he is mystified by that he is staring at. I look at myself and there is nothing wrong with my clothing, so I come to the conclusion that he is just a rude son of a bitch who likes to stare at hungry white girls.
The same rude person asks me what kind of bread I want. I tell him that I will take the 9 grain honey oat. Then he says did you say you wanted turkey? At first I was confused, because I knew I hadn't said turkey yet, but that is in fact what I wanted. Since I didn't feel like arguing yet, I said yes. He passes my bread to the chick next to him. She proceeds to fold the meat in a way that irritates me. Now, it takes every fiber of my being to not lunge across the counter and show her the right way to do her job. I've been to enough Subways, I know how they are supposed to lay out the meat, and she was NOT doing it right. I can feel my toes curly with anxiety because the meat is hanging off of the bread and for some reason this is the most frustrating thing that could have happened (or so I thought).
Next they ask me what kind of cheese I want. I say American and I always ask for extra. Some may say "that's not good for you Dani", but what I say to you is, you don't know my obsession with cheese, so shut your pie hole. Their cheese slices are more like cheese half slices so I think its A-OK to put extra on it. Next question they ask me is if I want it toasted. I explain to them that I would like it toasted and ask if they could toast it a little longer than usual. Remember the rude dip shit from before with the staring problem? He decides to chime in and ask me if I'd like it burnt with a smirk on his face. Not funny dude. What is this, comedic hour at Subway? Go back to staring at other hungry people in line, isn't that what you do best?
My sub comes out of the toaster and it is toasted just how I like it. I find the part of the Subway experience that is least thrilling for me is when they add all the veggies and dressings. I ask for spinach, she puts on a few leaves, I have to ask for more. I ask for onions, she puts a bunch in the middle, I have to ask for her to evenly spread them out and same goes for the green peppers. Like how hard is this? This is your JOB to make a freaking sub and you can't do it? I know I am being harsh, but this drives me NUTS. The last thing I need them to do for me is put yellow mustard on my sandwich. She squirts some down the crack of the roll. Really? Is that where you think mustard goes? Wouldn't it be better if you evenly squeezed some over the whole sandwich. So I ask for more and she squirts it in the same spot. At this point I am beyond frustrated and I ask her to spread it out on the sandwich. Just remembering this whole incident makes my body cringe. I really try to not let this stuff get to me, but if I am going to eat it, I take it very seriously and I make no apologies for that.
Long story short, although eating healthy is great, it can really be a hassle for me. I am far too particular for the mediocre folks they hire to work at Subway. It's like if you can't figure out how to make a sub, something is wrong with you. Part of me wants to open my own subway and have a rigorous training process so that my sandwich comes out perfect every time. But I don't worry Subway, I will keep coming back for more, because I am a glutton for punishment!
Yesterday, Rosa and I were not feeling up to par, so instead of walking we decided to go get lunch at Subway. Besides their delicious subs, the people of Subway have a little scrabble game going where you can win all kinds of fun prizes. We arrived at our local Subway, and there is a line out the door. Is there a sale at Subway and we did not get the memo? I mean, I know they have 5 dollar foot longs and all, but this is a bit much. I considered telling Rosa we should leave, but keep my mouth shut. Patience is not my number one virtue when it comes to food.
As we approach the line, I notice the gentlemen behind the counter is staring at us. I hate people who stare. Not only is it rude, but it makes me wonder what the heck is on me that he is staring at. I know it can't be my stunning good looks, because I do not get dressed up for work, so there must be something on me that he is mystified by that he is staring at. I look at myself and there is nothing wrong with my clothing, so I come to the conclusion that he is just a rude son of a bitch who likes to stare at hungry white girls.
The same rude person asks me what kind of bread I want. I tell him that I will take the 9 grain honey oat. Then he says did you say you wanted turkey? At first I was confused, because I knew I hadn't said turkey yet, but that is in fact what I wanted. Since I didn't feel like arguing yet, I said yes. He passes my bread to the chick next to him. She proceeds to fold the meat in a way that irritates me. Now, it takes every fiber of my being to not lunge across the counter and show her the right way to do her job. I've been to enough Subways, I know how they are supposed to lay out the meat, and she was NOT doing it right. I can feel my toes curly with anxiety because the meat is hanging off of the bread and for some reason this is the most frustrating thing that could have happened (or so I thought).
Next they ask me what kind of cheese I want. I say American and I always ask for extra. Some may say "that's not good for you Dani", but what I say to you is, you don't know my obsession with cheese, so shut your pie hole. Their cheese slices are more like cheese half slices so I think its A-OK to put extra on it. Next question they ask me is if I want it toasted. I explain to them that I would like it toasted and ask if they could toast it a little longer than usual. Remember the rude dip shit from before with the staring problem? He decides to chime in and ask me if I'd like it burnt with a smirk on his face. Not funny dude. What is this, comedic hour at Subway? Go back to staring at other hungry people in line, isn't that what you do best?
My sub comes out of the toaster and it is toasted just how I like it. I find the part of the Subway experience that is least thrilling for me is when they add all the veggies and dressings. I ask for spinach, she puts on a few leaves, I have to ask for more. I ask for onions, she puts a bunch in the middle, I have to ask for her to evenly spread them out and same goes for the green peppers. Like how hard is this? This is your JOB to make a freaking sub and you can't do it? I know I am being harsh, but this drives me NUTS. The last thing I need them to do for me is put yellow mustard on my sandwich. She squirts some down the crack of the roll. Really? Is that where you think mustard goes? Wouldn't it be better if you evenly squeezed some over the whole sandwich. So I ask for more and she squirts it in the same spot. At this point I am beyond frustrated and I ask her to spread it out on the sandwich. Just remembering this whole incident makes my body cringe. I really try to not let this stuff get to me, but if I am going to eat it, I take it very seriously and I make no apologies for that.
Long story short, although eating healthy is great, it can really be a hassle for me. I am far too particular for the mediocre folks they hire to work at Subway. It's like if you can't figure out how to make a sub, something is wrong with you. Part of me wants to open my own subway and have a rigorous training process so that my sandwich comes out perfect every time. But I don't worry Subway, I will keep coming back for more, because I am a glutton for punishment!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
On My Own
In my efforts to get on track with my eating and into shape with my body, I have picked up what most of us refer to as "work out buddies". They are great to have around if you need someone to relate too, and also if you need someone to help motivate you on a daily basis. Since I am a super genius, I have a more than one work out buddy. Why? Because when you are as lazy as I can be, you need more than one person telling you to get your sorry ass moving.
Last week I started working out with my newest work out buddy, Rosa. We work together and we decided that instead of sitting around during lunch, we'd go out and walk around near our offices. Now, if you know me at all, you know that I am not really someone who really enjoys the great outdoors, but when I have someone else with me to distract me, it really helps keep my attention away from all the bees that could murder me. Did I mention I am full of irrational thoughts?
Well, yesterday Rosa called out sick. Well, to normal people this would be no big deal. But to insane in the membrane people such as myself, I start thinking all kinds of ridiculous things. Like... what if I fall and no one is there to help me? What if I am attacked and no one cares when I don't come back to my cubicle? What if, What if, What if... the list goes on and on. So, I start to calculate my plan while I eat my delicious fiber cereal for breakfast.
First, I start telling myself I can do this. I tell myself to stop being such a friggin baby and to just bite the bullet and go out on my own. I start chit chatting about it with some friends online. They encourage me and tell me I can do it as well. I am still not convinced. I decide to ask another co-worker if they'd be interested in walking with me. They turn me down because they are not wearing the appropriate attire to go walking. DAMNIT. DAMN YOU ALL. I start to feel like every one is out to get me and this is a test.
So one o clock is fastly approaching and I start shoving my pre-workout banana in my mouth. I go and get changed and begin the mental preparation for going to the park by work by myself. Then another thought occurs, I can call my mom while I'm walking, she won't mind. So I begin on my journey and I pull out my blackberry to call dear old mom. She is busy at work and wants nothing to do with me. Well, its not that she wants nothing to do with me, but, who really wants to talk to someone who is panting during conversation?
Almost to the park, so I start to jog and as I round the turn to the park, what do I see but a giant obnoxious truck in my way. This moron had parked a truck right on the path where you are supposed to be able to walk/run. Now I suppose this person is fulfilling some kind of job duty for the park, but I do not give a shit after all the mental prep that went into this solo journey. I am now irritated. How dare they make me jog AROUND the truck.
I get to the next corner of the track, and I see what appears to be a large group of highschoolers heading my way. Of course this would happen today, I think to myself. Now I have to run my jiggly ass past a bunch of tight stomached, no cellulite filled thighs bitches. Awesome. Plus, these little brats can't even walk in a straight line? No, they just walk in a giant group stretched out across my path. Yes, now its MY path.
After I weave my way past the young ho's, I am beginning to feel defeated. I don't know why, I just had hoped to be alone at the park and not to have all this crap happen. So on the next loop around I stopped to do sit ups to break up the monotony. This helped me feel more empowered, so I got back up and started up with my walk/jog again.
When it was all said and done and I got back to my cubicle, I thought about what a weirdo I am. Who gets that nervous about doing things on their own? This kid does. But today, this kid was very proud of herself for venturing out in her big girl pants.
Last week I started working out with my newest work out buddy, Rosa. We work together and we decided that instead of sitting around during lunch, we'd go out and walk around near our offices. Now, if you know me at all, you know that I am not really someone who really enjoys the great outdoors, but when I have someone else with me to distract me, it really helps keep my attention away from all the bees that could murder me. Did I mention I am full of irrational thoughts?
Well, yesterday Rosa called out sick. Well, to normal people this would be no big deal. But to insane in the membrane people such as myself, I start thinking all kinds of ridiculous things. Like... what if I fall and no one is there to help me? What if I am attacked and no one cares when I don't come back to my cubicle? What if, What if, What if... the list goes on and on. So, I start to calculate my plan while I eat my delicious fiber cereal for breakfast.
First, I start telling myself I can do this. I tell myself to stop being such a friggin baby and to just bite the bullet and go out on my own. I start chit chatting about it with some friends online. They encourage me and tell me I can do it as well. I am still not convinced. I decide to ask another co-worker if they'd be interested in walking with me. They turn me down because they are not wearing the appropriate attire to go walking. DAMNIT. DAMN YOU ALL. I start to feel like every one is out to get me and this is a test.
So one o clock is fastly approaching and I start shoving my pre-workout banana in my mouth. I go and get changed and begin the mental preparation for going to the park by work by myself. Then another thought occurs, I can call my mom while I'm walking, she won't mind. So I begin on my journey and I pull out my blackberry to call dear old mom. She is busy at work and wants nothing to do with me. Well, its not that she wants nothing to do with me, but, who really wants to talk to someone who is panting during conversation?
Almost to the park, so I start to jog and as I round the turn to the park, what do I see but a giant obnoxious truck in my way. This moron had parked a truck right on the path where you are supposed to be able to walk/run. Now I suppose this person is fulfilling some kind of job duty for the park, but I do not give a shit after all the mental prep that went into this solo journey. I am now irritated. How dare they make me jog AROUND the truck.
I get to the next corner of the track, and I see what appears to be a large group of highschoolers heading my way. Of course this would happen today, I think to myself. Now I have to run my jiggly ass past a bunch of tight stomached, no cellulite filled thighs bitches. Awesome. Plus, these little brats can't even walk in a straight line? No, they just walk in a giant group stretched out across my path. Yes, now its MY path.
After I weave my way past the young ho's, I am beginning to feel defeated. I don't know why, I just had hoped to be alone at the park and not to have all this crap happen. So on the next loop around I stopped to do sit ups to break up the monotony. This helped me feel more empowered, so I got back up and started up with my walk/jog again.
When it was all said and done and I got back to my cubicle, I thought about what a weirdo I am. Who gets that nervous about doing things on their own? This kid does. But today, this kid was very proud of herself for venturing out in her big girl pants.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Bride To Be Dani B says NO to Football Sunday Traditions
The alarm went off and it was already 7:30AM. Normally, I would hit snooze and sleep for another ten or twenty minutes, but today is a very exciting day. It’s the first day of football for the NFL. A big deal to my fiancé and I. Football rings memories of beer, brats, and me stumbling to bed before 7pm because of all the yummy beer and brats. However, today was going to be different. I would not be eating any brats this football season, nor would I be drinking ANY beer.
I had prepped my fiancé, Jimmy, days in advance. “On Sunday, if we go to the bar, we are not allowed to eat there”. To my surprise, he agreed. (He knows I am trying to change my lifestyle and is being a great supporter.) Earlier in the week, I had also prepped myself for something else that was a crucial part of my bride to be plan during football season. No beer. Now, I know this may seem simple to some of you. Have a little self control, you say. But the thought of blue moon hitting my tongue, followed by the sweet flavor of the orange slice that the bartender may or may not have put in there for me is HEAVEN on earth during football season. I don’t know why, but Blue Moon always tastes better when the Eagles are on.
Jimmy and I had agreed to smoothies and egg sandwiches on wheat toast to start us off before we left for the Eagles first game. By the time I was done getting ready, breakfast was on the table for me. Jimmy made me a delicious Wheat Toast, 2% American Cheese, Scrambled Egg, Turkey Bacon and Ketchup sandwich. I already start calculating calories in my head. This meal will probably run me about 400 calories. But don’t forget the smoothie he made me too!! That had banana, protein mix, orange juice, mixed berries, yogurt and flax seed in it. I calculate about another 200 calories for this meal. Not too bad since I probably won’t eat again until 3PM or so.
We finish breakfast and we are off to the game. While in the car, I try to give Jim a little food for thought. I tell him about an article a friend sent me which talked about weight loss and alcohol. I tell him that I think besides not eating, I also think he should avoid drinking beer today because it will immediately hinder any goals he has for fitness. He tries to compromise by saying he will only drink on Sundays, and will not drink beer the rest of the week. This may seem like I accomplished something, but really I did not. He doesn’t drink during the week anyway and I’m too tired to really continue the conversation. Jimmy 1, Dani 0.
We arrive at the parking structure for the bar at 8:50 sharp and due to my exhaustion I demand that we stop off at the nearby coffee shop instead of going directly to the bar. We walk in and I am immediately hit with the smell of pastries. And oh man do they smell delicious. I start to dream about rolling around in a giant pile of pastries followed by a bath in their icing. What is wrong with me? Good thing my belly is full of smoothie and egg sandwich otherwise the 800 pound gorilla that lives in my belly may have devoured the entire coffee shop. I manage to leave the shop with a sugar free vanilla café au lait. I feel a certain level of relief when I leave the coffee shop. I had successfully gone in and gotten what I wanted without getting anything else that would ruin my daily plan. Dani 1, CoffeeShop 0.
Our friends slowly arrive and fill up our table. The men order a bucket of bud light bottles. So far so good, I am not feeling very tempted as I am still enjoying my sugar free delight. Then it happens. The waitress drops off a bowl of the most devilishly good creations on earth: Tater Tots. Deep Fried, none the less. My eyes start to move around, I am looking for the person who ordered them. Why? BECAUSE SHE PUT THE TOTS DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME. Oh god, they smell so good. They look so crispy. One wouldn’t hurt, would it? Yes, yes it would. I tell myself if I can quit smoking cigarettes, I can avoid eating these tiny little pieces of heaven. But then I start staring at them. I can’t help myself, they are RIGHT there. My only move is to put my purse in between the tots and myself. Then finally, someone says “Oh Sorry, do you not want any”. Really? I think to myself. Really? Fuck you. Of course I don’t want any. Have you seen my ass? Get those things away from me. But instead of saying that, I politely say “no thank you, I am trying to watch what I eat.” Dani 1, Tots 0.
I think the men got to about their 5th bucket of bud lights, when the quesadilla was brought to the table. I knew it was coming, I heard her order it, but still I don’t think I was quite prepared. You see, I LOVE cheese. Especially melty stringy cheese, so to see someone pulling apart their quesadilla, and the cheese just dangling from their mouth and not mine… well, it was heart breaking. The worst part about the quesadilla, I think, was that the bitch didn’t finish eating it. Whoa, I’m sorry, she’s really not a bitch, that’s just my inner fat kid getting pissed that someone wouldn’t finish a delicious meal such as a cheese quesadilla. So she leaves the bar at half time and here is this quesadilla just sitting there. Calling to me. “Eat me Dani, I know you want to, I have seen you staring at me the whole game. Sure I may be a little cold now, but I’m still just as tasty as before.” I lean over to Jimmy and I say “Are you hungry?” And he says “No, not at all”. So now I feel like a complete lard ass. I tell myself if he is twice your size, ate the same things you did for breakfast and is not hungry yet, you shouldn’t be hungry either. And then, almost like a sign from the do not eat this gods, another person starts picking at the left overs of the quesadilla. Dani 1, Quesadilla 0.
Since I had not done anything but drink coffee or water since being at the bar, I was now super hungry once the game was over. I was presented with the option to stay and watch the next game OR go home and relax by myself. I opted to go home, make myself a nice healthy soup, and sit down in front of the T.V. Even though I decided to go home to my comfortable couch instead of staying and being social, I felt a certain amount of pride about my day so far. Things were looking up and it could only get easier from here. Unless tater tots and quesadillas somehow figured out where I lived, I was safe for now.
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