Um, No. I just like to eat

You know, I've battled my weight for as long as I can remember. My first memory knowing I was chumby, hmmm....I think I was about 8 years old and I realized I was 20 lbs heavier than my classmates. Today, this is not a lot, as A LOT of kids are overweight [and that's a WHOLE other post] but back then I was the only girl in my class who was overweight. I remember what it felt like and I didn't like it.

Flash forward 25 years and I'm still struggling with that extra 20-40 lbs. I go up, I go down. I've tried a lot of different things. Never diet pills. Always something like Weight watchers or Jenny Craig. Working out more, watching what I eat. that sort of thing.

I read a lot of people's stories on the internet and in print about their issues with food. I'm FASCINATED by anyone's struggle with the bulge, and I voraciously read blog posts, articles, and the like. In these articles, someone is always coming to the realization that they have used food as a filler. Something to stuff down their emotions, or fill an emotional void. Often you hear them say "Food was my best friend." "Food comforted me." "I used food to salve the pain."

I've thought long and hard about this and my 'realization' is: I just like to eat.

Plain and simple. If something tastes good, I want more. If something tastes like crap, I don't want it at all. and High calorie, fat laden food tends to taste really really good and ergo, I like it. I like it a lot. I like the way yummy food tastes. and I'm like a 6 year old when it comes to decisions about my food. Ice cream for breakfast? You bet! Birthday cake when it's no one's birthday? why not? peanut butter as a food group? sure thing.

Trust me, I've been in therapy. I KNOW what my issues are, but using food as a filler for some void deep in my psyche is not one of them. I don't eat to numb pain. I don't eat less when I'm stressed. I don't ever lose my appetite from my feelings. I do reward myself with food [do well on an exam, do a good job at work = CRAVE CUPCAKES!] but I don't see this as any sort of emotional eating, but rather a cheap, inexpensive reward. People always say, don't use food as a reward. Why the hell not? It's cheap, it's readily available. and like I said, it tastes good.
I don't think of food as my best friend, I don't think of food as "there for me." And I don't think that people who feel that way are wrong. I'm just saying that personally, I don't have those issues. I like food. I like yummy food. I like sweet and salty and sour and crunchy and smooth and tasty.

Maybe someday I will wake and realize that I'm just deluding myself and I really do have deep-seeded issues about food. But then I'd prolly just roll over and get a cinnamon bun.

Yeah, I know

So I know I’ve been gone for a while. Why is it when you work out for three days in a row, it feels really long, but when you fall off the wagon for a while on something, it seems really short? I coulda SWORN I just blogged yesterday. And now it’s been almost a three weeks and I’ve got nothing to say.

Like most peeps, I’m crazy busy right now. I have my Real Job, and then in my spare time [snort!] I decided I wanted to learn how to do artificial nails. So I signed up for a course and that’s where I was all last weekend. I do have pics of my very first nail [done on mum's pinky finger] but it’s on my crackberry which is allthewayacrosstheroomandI’mtoolazytogetit.

Today I did Jessi’s nails at work, no tips, just a color overlay. I was exhausted at the end! It’s a new task for me so I’ve got to concentrate super hard. Not that I’m not concentrating at my Real Job, it’s just that at Real Job, my hands and brain know what to do in tandem to get the work done, and with the nail thing, hands and brain have not yet worked out an agreement on who is in charge. Brain says do x y and z. Hands say “um, I don’t bend that way.”

Jessi has graciously agreed to be my guinea pig, so whenever I get some new stuff in, she’s getting it slapped on her nails. Today we did Midnight Velvet, a darkly veiled plum. The color is nice but it was a bee-yotch to apply as it took FIVE COATS to get a consistent color.

I’ve not done any writing on The Book, but I have been thinking about it. Which I guess is like when I was 7 and I wouldn’t practice the piano, I would just think about it and then lesson night would roll around and I would be so nervous on the way to class that my hands would get all splotchy and would almost break out in hives.

And I’m still going to bootcamp 3 times a week and Michelle is kicking our butts. HARD. She’s busted out all the good ones: Hills, Stairs, Gauntlet. oh, my legs hurt just thinking about it.

And I’ve started seeing a nutritionist. I’ve really never eaten this well in my whole life. On Sunday, I had Wendy’s and I actually didn’t feel good afterward. That has NEVER happend to me before. Ever. In the history of my fast-food lovin life. And I’ve lost 7 pounds and 2 inches off my hips, one of my waist. So snaps to me.

And I think that’s about it!

So funny, I snorted!

Seriously, you have GOT to read this article:
6 Writers Who Accidentally Crapped Out Masterpieces
By Shaun Grey

The best was, of course, number one - SHAKESPEAR:
Here's some snippets:

Figuratively speaking, his works define the English language. And by "figuratively," we of course mean "literally." The motherfucker made up half of the dictionary off the top of his damn head. If you've ever said that something was a "sorry sight," or that "what's done is done," not only are you an unimaginative hack, but you owe Shakespeare $10.

And as far as inventing half the English language goes, you've got to bear in mind that although Shakespeare was able to solicit some pretty sweet patronages from the nobility (once again, phat cash), the majority of his audience consisted of the filthy, unwashed peasants that packed the pit in front of the stage (theater-goers in Elizabethan England were in the unique position of being able to both see a Shakespeare performance and stand next to a donkey for three hours).

Go read it all, I guarantee, you'll like it.

Bootcamp update

I’m trying my hardest to try my hardest at bootcamp. That means is that I’m generally thisclose to coughing up a lung. Wednesday, Michelle busted out the Gauntlet. This involves sprinting back and forth from pylons strategically placed and doing strength exercises in between. Did I mention the sprint exercises are also called “suicides?” Yeah. You get the idea.

Friday was circuit training, which was definately do-able, but it’s up to you how hard you work.

The thing with bootcamp is you’re ALWAYS uncomfortable. You’re not quite at the “I’m gonna puke” stage, but you’re real close.Which makes people wonder, why do I recommend bootcamp so strongly?

You see results. Results like you’ve never seen before. I mean, when was the last time you pushed yourself so hard you thought you would toss cookies? [mmm cookies FOCUS].

So even though there are times when I find myself gasping for breath, looking up a set of stairs and wondering how I’m gonna do it, I still recommend it.

Will the PVR Change my Life?

It's been promised by everyone that owns a PVR that, yes, the PVR WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!! Even Donna, who hardly watched any tv, got a pvr and said it revolutioned her evenings! I've long been a champion of one, telling people to get one even though I myself did not have one. And I've wanted one for AGES.

So. Now. Here we are. I've got the PVR, I'm simply waiting for Shaw to call me back to activate it. [I even hooked it up self!]. Thursday is a show heavy day in our household. Jenge has Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy. I have Bones and Supernatural. So it's high demand time and we'll be putting the PVR through it's paces!

y'know, as soon as the cable company calls me back. Any time now. Like now.... or maybe now. I'm sure they will call me back any second. They assured me my call was VERY IMPORTANT to them.

Buckets of Crazy

Oh. My. God. It’s buckets of crazy here. Portia has decided she cannot stand downstairs. Downstairs is EVIL and BAD THINGS happen. and she MUST be upstairs. Even if she has no where to go but the hallway. The problem is, we put a baby gate up for Lola, so that she can’t go upstairs unattended [as she is still working on her housebreaking]. Portia finds this unacceptable and will paw at the baby gate. And eye the slats in the staircase, as if pondering if she will fit [she won't. She's a 60 pound malamute and the slats are 4 inches wide]. And then Portia starts to press her paw against the baby gate, testing how tightly we’ve put it in. This makes Rocky crazy and he’s taken to jumping up on my lap and trying to press himself into me. The worst was this morning when Portia was going through her routine when Rocky jumped up, TURNED HIS BACK TO HER and pressed against me. As if to say I CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT HER WHILE SHE DOES THAT. All the while, Lola is rolling around on the ground, chewing a running shoe. Until she decides that she wants to be in my lap as well.Buckets of crazy. We’re all stocked up here.

Oh, Portia!

Portia. She just can't help herself. I always tell her she's lucky she's so good looking because she's bad. Super bad. Bad squared.
Yesterday she counter surfed and got grapes and whole wheat wraps. Jenge and I thought nothing of it, but then this morning, here's what happened.

[scene- Gita's bedroom. It's dark. Early morning. Before 6. Lola is already harumphing and sighing in her crate. Gita rolls over]
Gita: Quiet. It's bedtime.
[this does not deter the puppy who harumphs and baby-growls]
Gita: Lola! Quiet!
[down the hall, there is a thump. A bump. Mummy Jennifer has awoken. Gita listens. Perhaps she will come get Lola and Gita can pretend to still be asleep. Then, a door flies open! The hall light flares to life!]
Jenge: That's it! Portia! No more sleeping in my room! EVER!
[Dogs come flying out of Jenge's room. Jenge comes and gets Lola, Gita sits up]
Gita: what happened?
Jenge: She puked. and not just a little, a lot. Right on my bedskirt.
Gita [thinking that she should get up]: Oh.......
[Jenge storms downstairs, tosses the girls out to potty, dispenses food. Gita comes downstairs. Portia is not eating! Jenge and Gita stare at her]
J: I don't feel bad for her. I don't. She did it to herself. Yeah, I bet you feel sick Portia.
[Portia picks at her food and forces it down. She drinks two bowls of water until Gita steps in]
G: Too much water, Portia.
[Portia looks up, guiltily]

[Flash forward to early morning, Gita and Jenge on phone]
J: so it turns out, grapes are toxic to dogs.
G: oh, great.
J: I called the vet, and I'm gonna go home at lunch and check in on her.
G: Call me if she is sick, I can come home from work.
J: Kay.

[afterschool, on the phone]
J: so the vet said she'd probably be fine, but the house smells funny. I can take her in. They have an opening at 6.
G: Oh, Portia.
J: I guess that grapes can cause renal failure in dogs. how much would you say we had?
G: I dunno. 1, maybe 2 pounds?
J: 2 pounds is the toxic amount for portia's weight class.
G: Maybe I should come home.
J: Go to bootcamp, I'll take her to the vet and let you know.

[after bootcamp, on the phone]
J: So she's dehydrated, and they wanted to admit her but I said no. We're waiting for blood work.
G: How's she look?
J: I mean, she looks okay, but she's depressed.
G: She's been depressed for a while.
J: Yeah, I'll call you back.

[later, Jenge comes home with Portia]
J: so they watned to keep her over night, but that's 500 bux a night. I said, listen, you don't know how much this dog has eaten. You don't know what we've pulled out of poop and 99 times out of 100, she's fine. We've had moles checked for cancer on her face, we've had an entire work up done on her bladder. We've gone for tests, etc. And she's always fine. I'll take her home.
G: I agree, I'm pretty sure she'll be okay.
J: Her kidneys looked good, although her liver had some high numbers. [shrug] we'll see.
[they both eye Portia who clearly does not want to talk about her trip to the vet
J: I mean, she was so nervous at the vet, I couldn't leave her there.
G: No, you did the right thing.
[Portia jumps up on counter. Jenge and Gita stare at each other incredulously]
J and G: She's fine!