I'm Trucking

With a week on the beach, I promised myself I would run every single day.

I then proceeded to never move faster than a leisurely stroll. I know, so useful. I ate out every day. It was great for everything but my fitness goals.

Now I'm back to it. Went for a two mile run this morning with the dogs. At no point did I think I was going to die, so I guess that's progress. Of course, now I'm at work in tight black capris and a light hoodie because I felt so athletic and good about myself, but it's cloudy, in the upper 30s and raining. Whoops.

It's all in your head.

Right.  I know that I'm "not fat."  I know this, because I am (in fact), not fat.  HOWEVER, that doesn't mean that I don't feel like a hippo after halloween when I haven't been working out regularly.  In fact, it's shocking how my own brain can completely and totally convince myself that I've somehow ballooned into a sedentary beast, best suited for floating weightless in water (sea lion, anyone?). 

However, as much as I hate my brain for tricking me into those negative thoughts and images, I absolutely love, love, love it when it decides to flip the opposite way after I've managed to string two workouts together back to back...  Because honestly, that's all it takes. 

Two workouts and I'm just sore enough to confuse lactic acid with actual muscle mass, and that slight after burn in the lungs makes me feel like I could climb a mountain if I wanted to (I don't actually want to).

So that's where I am.  Two workouts into Turbofire.  I might be slightly obsessed, and I'd SWEAR that my pants are looser, but that's probably just as much an illusion as when I think they're about to burst off and I'll never zip into my breeches again.

But here's to positive feedback :)

Now if only my mare would keep her shoes attached to her feet, we'd go for a celebratory ride....

I'm here, I swear

Iy yiy yiy. Just a quick update. The Dynamite? I was loving it. I had lost 5 pounds in the first week.

Then, totally unrelated, I thought I was dying. I missed my period ("WTF" was my answer to that, since I'm on the pill...which doesn't help you lose weight) and got pains in my left side that were completely debilitating. A trip to the doctor (I thought for sure I had a tubal pregnancy) confirmed an ovarian cyst (has anyone had them? Statistics say 92% of women in their child bearing years have), the probable cause for the pain.

So, off of the Dynamite diet because while the doctor didn't think it had anything to do with a flare, it can't hurt to cut out any chemicals while we figure it out. An appointment on 4/18 will take a second look to see if it's one that's going to flare with different chemicals at different times of my cycle, and then if it's still there, we'll do an MRI to determine if it's dermoid (look THAT up on Google, it's some freaky sci-fi type of stuff!).

After that, I can go back to my diet (I was loving it).

I think this post has set the record for parentheses, but I don't feel like going back to edit. I have a wicked cold right now, just pretty "blah" in general. It hurts to pee! (That's from the cyst, not the cold.)

Back to it...

Not to be a total OCD bride, but somehow I managed to pick out a dress that, while totally gorgeous and stunning, isn't necessarily the most *ahem,* forgiving.

Let's just say that I'll look like Catherine Zeta Jones' slightly taller cousin in it if I manage to cut out the bottles of wine and wheels of cheese while also waking up early enough to do something other than eat peanut butter by the spoonful in the mornings.

If I don't accomplish those things - I've unfortunately selected a dress that will not only provide ZERO support for an increased bust size, but also highlight any folds of back fat for all the world to see with the added bonus of making my hips look like a baby hippo (aw, cute!).

You'd think that with nuptials approximately 9 months away, and a dress fitting looming in only 4... that I'd have my ass firmly in gear.  Or that I'd at least be reacquainting myself with the large, scary trainer-man of my past... but NO.

Nothing of the sort.

Instead, I've moved back in with my parents (who cook large well rounded meals daily, and also have a massive wine cellar which is tapped every evening..), quit the gym, and allowed myself to foolishly purchase pants in a larger size (dammit!).

This leaves me in a diminished state and not nearly as toned, firm, or confident as I was exactly this time last year.

So, what does a desperate white female (DWF) do when faced with such a situation?

She watches infomercials.

Yup, infomercials.

Then she googles said miracle product and manages to do a "thorough" online search to qualify the likelihood that somehow a skinny blond bitch (SBB) bouncing around to b-list hip hop will somehow be motivating enough for me to do 374 jumping jacks and 82 minutes of lunges.

Even as I hit "purchase" I knew that I was doomed.  When the SBB can't see that I've opted to take a 8 minute break in the middle of her "inferno" workout.. how am I supposed to be held accountable?

Regardless, I've purchased it.  I feel that if I don't stop for a snack in the middle of the first workout, I will have been moderately successful.

But seriously, who wouldn't want to jump around with this crazy chick?