tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10835967457429619602024-03-13T17:28:56.197-04:00LauriebaseballAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.comBlogger304125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-53067471646005048892016-05-23T15:06:00.003-04:002016-05-23T15:07:19.570-04:00The final baby items<br />
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Weirdly, strangely, ironically...the universe is telling me it's all okay, perhaps?<br />
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I was going to start this post and talk about my final two baby items that i've been holding onto. Two things that I couldn't give to expectant friends with everything from my nursery, two things I couldn't put on Craigslist or sell at a garage sale.<br />
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And when i went back in my archive to read <a href="http://lauriebabysteps.blogspot.com/2012/05/not-giving-upjust-moving-forward.html">what I had written then about these items</a>, I noticed that it was four years ago. To the day.<br />
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<i>Anything I bought in the last year has gone to my expectant friend, to a garage sale, to Craigslist.<br /><br />The things I've been buying and holding onto all these years, including the Derek Jeter t-shirt I bought in 1998, will stay with me. Packed away and hopefully to be pulled out someday.</i><br />
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And so I was about to write about the very first quilt I made, with its bright colors, which had been tucked away in the bottom dresser drawer in my guest room. I would think about it, would pull it out every so often, and by putting it back, by not enjoying it or letting someone else enjoy it, I was giving it more power to make me sad than it deserved.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h7izeftvWXg/V0NTgZk_4_I/AAAAAAAABec/LQRA9SvFNasU4LsGIXjGusLQghUcs-12wCLcB/s1600/IMG_7462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h7izeftvWXg/V0NTgZk_4_I/AAAAAAAABec/LQRA9SvFNasU4LsGIXjGusLQghUcs-12wCLcB/s320/IMG_7462.jpg" width="320" /></a>A couple weeks ago, I pulled it out, washed it and put it on the end of the bed. And when it was time to go to bed, covered my four-legged baby with it. (Yes, my dog loves to be covered with a blanket.) I alternate between this and his other, but it's in use. It has lost its power and I realized that last night when he rested his bead, ever-so-sweetly on it.</div>
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There was one other item, one that I had called out in that post from four years ago. A Derek Jeter t-shirt, size 18 months. I wondered if it would fit on a teddy bear. Or even on the dog. </div>
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And then a new friend, someone I've known less than a year, who only has the Cliff Notes version of those five years of my life, suggested I make a pillow out of it.</div>
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It was the perfect suggestion.</div>
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And I think that's it. That's the end of everything for Baby Rookie. it's not that I'll never think of the baby that never came, it's just that i've replaced that notion with the baby who has now has four legs; who whines a little when he wants me to go in the basement to throw a ball for him; who gives me the look of "oh my god, you came back, i missed you so much" every day when I get home from work; and who wakes me up in the middle of the night because his blanket came off and I need to cover him back up.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-47531609181408412412016-04-28T12:35:00.003-04:002016-04-28T12:35:28.988-04:00Strengths and StrugglesI have a friend who lives in China. She just up and moved there in the late fall for her job. She'll be there two years. When she first arrived, it was hard. She didn't know the language. She didn't like the food. Sometimes the cabbies knew where a church was, sometimes they didn't and just drove her around and deposited her back at home.<br />
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But she's been there since late fall and she's adapting. She's getting stronger, even while she struggles. I can see the growth in her through her emails and our occasional Skype calls.<br />
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As we each navigate challenging times in our lives, we've decided to identify one strength and one struggle each week.<br />
<br />
First up for me...<br /><br />Strength: Accepting physical limitations when it comes to running and committing to three strength training sessions this week.<br /><br />Struggle: I'm still eating my feelings -- and lately my feelings have been boredom (at home) and stress (at work). I'm connecting with a friend of a friend who is a weight management doctor and excited about looking at food in a different way. Stay tuned.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-56718362107341430042016-04-12T07:16:00.000-04:002016-04-14T12:46:17.744-04:00On the eve of 46Sometimes the start of my year -- and the reflections that come with it -- is New Years Eve, sometimes (as it is this year), it's the eve of my birthday. Tomorrow I turn 46. Closer to 50 than 40.<br />
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Last year, at the start of the new year, I did a <a href="http://lauriebabysteps.blogspot.com/2015/01/better-fit-expression.html?showComment=1422156665809#c5807090847829225004" target="_blank">similar exercise</a>. Looking back, it felt appropriate to do it again now.<br />
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<b>Accomplishments of 2015</b><br />
<br />
1. Professionally, I rebranded 99% of my institution with a new name, new logo, new messaging, new look...all items on my check list completed within one year of the logo reveal.<br />
2. In direct response to the the above hard work, I gained 20 pounds. Is that an accomplishment? I consider it akin to pregnant weight and I was grateful for every ounce of work that each pound represented.<br />
3. Losing the 20 pounds within four months of the logo reveal and regaining (for the most part) healthy eating and exercise habits.<br />
4. I continued to work on my mental health and face, head-on, the issues that have shaped me as an adult, and as a result my relationship with men.<br />
5. While some friends have drifted away, I'm proud that I've managed to maintain the friendships and relationships that mean the most to me, regardless of the distance.<br />
6. Growing my circle of friends in PA has been a huge game changer. While still not the "people" I had in Ithaca, I definitely feel like I have "people" here, outside of work.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Q6dRcTKEKc/Vvz-jyYOowI/AAAAAAAABbI/awxxLVd4OEYHnCGdD88jMHHEM4iI-y7KQ/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Q6dRcTKEKc/Vvz-jyYOowI/AAAAAAAABbI/awxxLVd4OEYHnCGdD88jMHHEM4iI-y7KQ/s400/FullSizeRender.jpeg" width="280" /></a><b>Disappointments of 2015</b><br />
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1. Regardless of how proud I am that I did lose the weight and am more or less within five pounds of my August 2013 weight, I feel very stuck at this weight. When I get lower, it's a struggle. I need to learn -- and accept -- that my body is where it's supposed to be. And that's ok.<br />
2. Not running enough, and then when I started up again, having an ankle injury that prevented me from running for more than three months. I missed the Travis Manion Foundation run in September and the Rocky Run in November. I see my times on TimeHop from three years ago and realize that I still have a long way to go to get back to where I once was.<br />
3. As it was for last year, it is again for this year -- not blogging enough. Once I write something down, it's out of my head and the thoughts are quieted. I need to remember this as I'm playing a story or scenario or problem over and over in my head.<br />
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<b>Three things I focused a majority of my energy on</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
1. My job<br />
2. My dog<br />
3. My health<br />
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<b>Three things I intended to do but didn't</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
1. Accept my "happy" weight<br />
2. Run a 5K<br />
3. Take a sewing class<br />
4. Take a real vacation<br />
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<b>My game changers in 2015 -- unexpected outcomes that made things different for you</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
1. I continue to learn the needs and demands (and the rewards) of owning a challenging breed of dog; we have figured out a very comfortable routine and continue to make great strides in which one of us is the alpha (it changes daily).<br />
2. Embracing my singleness. It doesn't mean that I've given up on finding someone, but I'm finally OK with just me.<br />
3. I love having the FWB in my life but, after 13 years, the power has shifted and I'm now more important to him than he is to me. It doesn't mean that I don't care about him, but if things were to end, I know I would be okay without him.<br />
4. One of my goals for 2015 was to open my Etsy shop and sew more. I realized that I don't like sewing for money. I much prefer sewing for people in my life. I certainly still sell some things, but making things en masse just isn't my thing. I have a stash of crayon rolls and table runners and other assorted things for our twice-yearly "Shopping Days" in the neighborhood (mini craft show) -- and that's enough. Taking the stress away from creating a shop and keeping the inventory up has made the sewing machine a stress reliever.<br />
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<b>How do these reflections inform my intentions for 2016?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I can do anything I set my mind do and failure is never an option. The outcome might not be exactly according to plan, but I've learned to accept the unexpected outcome and see that ultimately it might be better that way.<br />
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<b>What are my three words for 2016?</b><br />
<ul>
<li>BETTER -- This will always be a life lesson for me. I don't have to be perfect, I just have to be better. In the words of John Steinbeck (East of Eden): "And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good."</li>
<li>ACCEPTANCE -- I've learned, and continue to learn, that accepting the outcome I didn't expect, is ok. I didn't fail, I just rewrote the ending.</li>
<li>STRENGTH -- Mentally, physically, emotionally, socially</li>
</ul>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-13252642955653200672016-03-30T20:08:00.001-04:002016-03-31T06:47:08.299-04:00ConfessionI have a confession to make. There are people in my family who are going to vote for Donald Trump. And I don't mean like the crazy uncle that I see once a decade, I mean siblings, cousins, maybe even nieces and nephews.<br />
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I've known this for months, but today it hit me in the pit of my stomach, you may have seen his recent comments about abortion and how to should be banned, and how women who get an abortion should receive some form of punishment. I was angry. Seeing red anger. I threw my phone in purse and left the office, went home and walked five miles to calm down (now granted, I had had a shitty afternoon with stupid people and stupid meetings and stupid deadlines not being met).</div>
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Some people have questioned my pro-life stance given I went through so much to try to have a baby. But I feel very strongly about a woman's right to choose -- to choose to end a pregnancy and to choose to start one using scientific methods. It's a slippery slope...take away abortion and suddenly there are sanctions and bans on assisted reproduction. </div>
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I always feel angry when I hear politicians spouting on about banning abortion, but today's rant hit me especially hard. Because of the people in my family who actually support this man, I had a reminder of hurt feelings when I was going through my fertility process and many of these same people weren't supporting me, weren't inquiring as to how I was doing, all but ignored the elephant in the room that was infertility.</div>
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Truth: family can let you down.</div>
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I finally can take solace in the fact that there are people in my family who don't actually exercise their right to vote. So support this guy all you want with your Facebook posts and continue to stay home in November.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-40707360007031262362016-03-28T07:41:00.000-04:002016-03-28T07:41:11.377-04:00Accepting Referrals <br />
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<i>how do you feel about love these days?</i></div>
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I saw this writing prompt on a website and it made me chuckle, because honestly I didn't know how I feel about love these days. So I thought about, I talked about it, I emailed friends about it, and here's where I am.<div>
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I'm still open to love. But I'm ok being single.</div>
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For now -- and I certainly may change my mind -- I'm done with dating sites. My time is too valuable to go on 30 first dates. And just as frustrating, my time is too valuable to invest in someone for six weeks of amazing to only get the fade away.</div>
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Do you know someone who might even moderately entertain me for dinner? Let me know. Do an email introduction or simply give him my number. I'm open to that, I'm game for that. It still may work out the same way, but this girl is only accepting referrals for dates.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-70859880462118251472016-03-17T08:20:00.003-04:002016-03-17T08:20:52.811-04:00To my Former BFFYou know who you are, there's no need for the formal "Dear...."<br />
<br />
And yet it seems so weird to see former right next forever, but that's where our journey has left us. Fortunately, unlike broken relationships of a romantic form, perhaps our relationship isn't broken, it has just morphed.<br />
<br />
There are times when I want to reach out to you, to invite you to visit, to set up a phone date, and then I play the scenario beyond that connection and realize that we're past that. I'd have your back in a heartbeat in a life-altering scenario and I know you'd still have mine, but for day-to-day, I think our time has come and gone.<br />
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I accept responsibility for the part I played in what ultimately led to our not being BFFs anymore; and I hope you do as well. There was never malice on my part, never an intention to hurt you or disappoint you, but I do recognize that I wasn't as thoughtful or attentive to your needs during a family crisis as I could have been. Those are the times, when I recognize my failings, that I want to reach out. And then I remember the words you wrote on my Facebook page or in an email or said to me in person more times than I could count, something to the effect of ..."you're a much better friend to me than I am to you, what did I do to get you in my life?" -- and I wonder if you really meant that. Did you think of me as so perfect of a friend that I wasn't allowed a failing of any kind?<br />
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I look at your Facebook page from time to time, but I have you hidden from my feed. Not out of malice and it's not that I'm not interested in knowing what is happening in your life, but it was more for self-preservation when I realized that our relationship was fractured, even before I realized it was permanently altered. It was painful to see you still laughing and smiling and doing things with other people that I knew nothing of, had heard nothing of the planning. I was replaced. I was obsolete.<br />
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And while you were kind and reached out to me with a text within minutes of me posting that I had to put Casey down, I still have no idea when you had to put your dog down. I only know that she is gone. And part of me is afraid to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, how much I loved that crazy girl of yours. Afraid of my own failings for not being there for you, even though our relationship was forever altered at that point.<br />
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I am not bitter. I am not angry. I am sad, from time to time. But mostly, I am happy. I am happy that at one time you were my best friend. I am happy that I had you in my life to share some of the greatest and some of the most traumatic experiences in both of our lives. I am happy when I share stories of some of the crazy things we did, and still refer to you as "my best friend from..." Because life experiences have taught me that that you can have more than one best friend, and in my life, they are defined by the cities I've lived in.<br />
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I do miss you. And I am happy when I see you've liked a picture of mine on Facebook, or I find something that I know you would like and can share it with you via social media. Maybe someday our paths will cross beyond the internet and we can move past this and morph our relationship again, and maybe they won't. I'm thankful for the role you played in my life. I hope you are happy.<br />
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xoxo<br />
<br />
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<i>Full disclosure: I did see a <a href="http://theodysseyonline.com/miami/open-letter-former-best-friend/108688" target="_blank">similar blog post</a> recently, which inspired this; though I did not read that post until after I had written this.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-58990220046498987352016-02-26T18:27:00.001-05:002016-02-26T18:27:11.473-05:00Hunger vs. satisfaction<i>When you don't experience hunger, you don't experience satisfaction.</i><br />
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I've pulled out my <a href="https://geneenroth.com/" target="_blank">Ganeen Roth</a> books and that sentence was pretty profound. And when I saw Terri yesterday and we talked about that statement and I expanded on it, she made me repeat it.<br />
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When you don't experience hunger, you don't experience satisfaction. When I'm binging (which I have been for the past few weeks), I'm not satisfied. Nothing I eat is satisfying. The mouth hunger cannot be quenched. And yet, I continue to eat, hoping that I will be satisfied.<br />
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And so I have to be more aware of what I'm eating, when I'm eating. I've been eating out of habit, overeating out of habit, and eating when I'm not hungry. But eating because the food is there, because it's noon, because because because. And not really thinking about the why.<br />
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My weight is up. I'm cranky. I'm not sure what, if anything, i'm compensating for.<br />
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And tomorrow, when I get up, I'm not going to eat because I'm awake. I'm going to eat when I'm hungry.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-52551347399945017262016-01-20T07:43:00.000-05:002016-01-20T07:43:16.482-05:00Making my heart match my headThe weekend is looming less than it did a week ago. I'm not sure what that means, but I'll take it.<br />
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I did <a href="https://www.beachbody.com/product/supplements/3-day-refresh.do" target="_blank">three-day refresh</a> in two-days -- by the end of day two, I knew that I had accomplished what I wanted to and just needed to get more calories and protein! in my belly. And I'm slowly beginning to emotionally accept this is my happy weight. I'm there logically, rationally...the heart is bringing up the rear.<br />
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One area where I've been struggling with is with one of my trainers at the gym. She was going through rough patch last year with her personal life (like dying parent rough) and so I let it go. When I hurt my ankle last fall and ended up in PT for almost three months, there were (and still are) some ways where I just can't bend my ankle. I just don't have the flexibility on that side and so I modify my lunges. I go on the end of my toes, so there is no bend in my ankle. In the fall, she gave me a "throw up her hands" attitude that the way I was doing was doing me know good.<br />
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So I adjusted my schedule (for multiple reasons) and I go at times where she's not my trainer. There are times, though, when I have a session to make up or I have the day off and want to go in the morning. Monday was one of those days and I got some attitude again from her about the way I was doing reverse lunges and the way I was doing some core exercises. When I said, "we made some modifications the other day because of my lower back," she didn't accept it. She had me do it a different way and I must have made a face though I didn't realize it, because suddenly she said, "just do it the way you want."<br />
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It's a small gym -- a private studio really. And I'm friends with the owner. I'm only there another few months. I think my year is up in early May and then I think I'm going to try <a href="http://www.orangetheoryfitness.com/" target="_blank">Orange Theory</a> -- it feels like the same sort of thing. Appointment gym. 60 minutes of strength and cardio. One to two days a week.<br />
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So what do I do? Passive aggressively avoid this one trainer and enjoy my time there? Say something to the owner? Have a conversation with the trainer? Honestly, I think I only have the energy for the first option, but maybe that'll change. What I do know if that when I work out with this specific trainer, I don't get that feeling of empowerment that made me so happy that I ended up going back to the gym.<br />
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I'm going in tonight, with the trainer I have a better relationship with, so I'll see how i feel after that workout.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-28646182589597352442016-01-15T12:05:00.004-05:002016-01-15T12:05:56.858-05:00My WTF moment of the weekI was talking with a co-worker who was commenting how she was looking at pictures of herself from the the 90s and couldn't believe how much she's aged/gained weight and was looking to start being healthier.<br />
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"But we always looked better when we were younger, right?!" she said.<br />
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"Actually, this is the best I've ever looked. I weigh 70 pounds less than I did when I graduated from college," I said. "And it's still not good enough."<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-90443330126291414952016-01-13T20:25:00.001-05:002016-01-13T20:25:28.539-05:00Somewhere in New Jersey.....I'm very aware of the calendar, without even looking. It's not in the back of my mind like other dates sometimes are, it's glaring. <div><br></div><div>January 24.</div><div><br></div><div>Cooper's fourth birthday.</div><div><br></div><div>This week has been tough. Exhausting. Miserably cold weather. I've just wanted to sit in the house, under my blanket and eat bread. My workouts have been half-hearted, and even though I got to see one of my most favorite people on Monday, it started my week off my game.</div><div><br></div><div>Tomorrow I'm having lunch with a rep, and from that point on, I'm pulling myself together.</div><div><br></div><div>Bernie will be at daycare, so I'll get a good workout in before an evening meeting.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm starting three-day refresh on Friday.</div><div><br></div><div>Saturday and Monday, I'll hit the gym; Monday, I'll also get a massage.</div><div><br></div><div>The date will still be looking the following weekend, but I'm hoping that a weekend taking care of myself is what I need.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-50197558875325205832016-01-10T18:29:00.001-05:002016-01-10T18:29:23.224-05:00Making the choice<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7IkJPsk75Hg/VpLnVRuB9LI/AAAAAAAABXA/ru3DWSrxhb8/s1600/IMG_5988.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7IkJPsk75Hg/VpLnVRuB9LI/AAAAAAAABXA/ru3DWSrxhb8/s320/IMG_5988.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I have to remember my own words and remember that I am not living or dying by the number on the scale. Right now, after a few days of munchies (but not binges), I know that I'm up a couple pounds. My clothes still fit me, I'm still able to run, to walk, to lift, and so….so what that the number is up a little? So what indeed. I've been on a diet since I was 8 years old. Literally since I was eight.<br />
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And so that habit, that way of thinking, that way of negative self talk is difficult to turn off. But, as the quote above says, I have to realize -- and accept -- that things will happen, shit will happen, life will happen, and I won't be able, or want to, or have to have to eat my 1300 calories, with 50% of them being protein, etc.<br />
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This upcoming week will be challenging, but again, it's about living, about making the choice to live, so yes, i will likely have a drink with a friend from Baltimore tomorrow, and maybe even again on Thursday when I have drinks with another friend. That doesn't mean that I have to throw caution to the wind and eat or drink everything in sight, but it also doesn't mean that I can't enjoy that beer and know that I'll be back on track later in the week.<br />
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Good things this week….a great walk with a new friend/ neighbor. We have so much in common and I'm looking forward to getting to know her more. Seeing another neighbor for the first time this year and we both realized how much we missed each other. And football on Saturday and Sunday.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-46959838259745905172016-01-05T08:08:00.003-05:002016-01-05T08:08:44.927-05:00The Biggest LoserI usually write when I'm down, when I'm weak, when I'm fighting to get back. None of that today. As I wrote (I think) the other day, I'm starting the year at a lower weight than I did last year (by 10+ pounds). I didn't start the year looking for the magic elixir, although I will admit that for every Marie Osmond or Oprah commercial, the thought would briefly cost my mind about trying they knew programs and then I would remember that I have my own that's quite successful, thanks.<br />
<br />
I watched the season premiere of The Biggest Loser last night and another first. While I could empathize for sure with the contestants, it was the first time that I watched and realized that I didn't belong on that show. In years past, I would watch and think about what it would be like for me to be on the ranch, in the gym, not being able to run on the treadmill, not being able to keep up with the workouts, needing to lose 25, 50, 75 or more pounds.<br />
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[Aside: from the BMI scale, I'm probably still considered obese. Fuck the BMI scale. I will always be a curvy girl. I will never be a size 2. I will never weight 125 pounds.]<br />
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And so, knowing that realistically, I would like to lose another 10 pounds, I watched the show last night to remind myself that I don't want to get back to *that* point, that I'm in a (mentally) healthy place. At least for this week. It will always be a struggle. There are too many years of the other kind of thinking, too many years of looking for the magic diet that will work, when all along I should have been looking for something that's not a diet, but a way of life.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-80547625903043853852016-01-02T20:04:00.001-05:002016-01-02T20:04:57.148-05:00It's a leap yearSince I've last written, I've had several bouts of binging, but none too terrible. All seem to only last about a week, at their worst, a day or two, at their best. Each time, I am very aware of how I feel. The fullness. The stomach pains. The pounding chest. It doesn't ever really stop me the next time, but I think what it does, is help me snap back to healthier eating, awareness of what I'm eating and awareness of when I satisfied with food.<div><br></div><div>As I've written before, the binges aren't about feeling full. They are not about real,hunger, it's the mouth hunger. I never know what's going to trigger the mouth hunger, and the subsequent binges. And even in the throes of it, or in the immediate aftermath, I sometimes never figure it out. I guess if I could, I could perhaps stop them the next time.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm starting the new year strong, at a lower weight than I started last year. And looking to 2016 to figure out the last five or 10 pounds -- or not -- and being satisfied, happy even, with maintaining about where I am. This weight feels comfortable, most of the time. It certainly feels manageable and maintainable, but in a world of constant dieting, of constantly trying to be thin, can I b satisfied, can I be happy here?</div><div><br></div><div>I don't know...but that's what I'm going to try to figure out between now and February 29. It's a bonus day and why not use it as a milestone. And so, between no and February 29, I will do some soul,searching, do some sweating, do mindful eating....and see where and what it brings me to in 58 days.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-52726483389829248852015-11-01T20:59:00.001-05:002015-11-02T12:38:45.386-05:00HalloweenIt's amazing to me how things can bother me on an unconscious level. Just like my last post from September about my due date or when I was going though IVF with my friend and didn't realize how much I <i>needed</i> her to be pregnant, I've been eating my feelings for the last week. I'm up seven pounds in two weeks. And I didn't know that anything was bothering me, just couldn't figure out why I couldn't get my eating under control.<br />
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When I worked at IC, Halloween was a big deal in my building. We had a Halloween party and trick or treating from office to office for all the kids of the people in my building. The kids were adorable as they went door to door, while we were in the middle of checking email or updating a website, and a little Dorothy or an Elmo would peak from the other side of the desk. But this also coincided with the baby plan and each year, as I would say "next year" it became less and less fun. The "next year" mantra grew fainter in my mind until finally, I would just leave work before the party, leave early, and not be around the see everyone else's kids, to see something I couldn't have.</div>
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<div>
Fast forward to my new life in Doylestown. Halloween hasn't bothered me the last few years. My first year here was hurricane Sandy; two years ago, I was newly with EB and we had dinner at Panera. (As an aside, Halloween is thee best time to eat at Panera, or probably anywhere, if you don't want to deal with kids.) Last year, I sat outside with my neighbor's, around the fire pit, drinking and handing out candy.</div>
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But this year, what I didn't see coming, what I didn't realize would hit me so hard, was my part in the community's Halloween party. As a member of the social committee in my neighborhood, I helped plan the day's festivities. And even though I thought <i>I hate Halloween</i>, I wanted to take part, wanted to do my part.</div>
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After an hour of putting temporary tattoos on little costumed kids, I looked around at all the moms, chatting among themselves about their kids, about school, about homework or activities, about things that moms talk about, and I realized I couldn't be there anymore. Thankfully I had sunglasses on. <i>Don't cry, just hold it together. do. not. cry.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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I managed to not cry, I took deep breaths, wiped away the tears that had been welling in my eyes, and faked it for the next hour. More adorable children. I was numb to them. I looked past them, all the while doing the math in my head...the math that is always in my head. If I hadn't had a miscarriage, I would have a six year old; if Takesha hadn't changed her mind, I would have a 3 1/2 year old. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Would Harper have been in on the Frozen obsession? Would I have had an Elsa or an Anna? Anna...because she would have had red hair like her momma. </i></div>
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<i>Would Cooper have been a minion or Captain America?</i></div>
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These were the torturous thoughts going through my head, probably bubbling just below the surface all week as I ate my weight in chocolate. Today wasn't much better. I had a pep talk with myself this morning, and still, and still...I ate a packet of peanut butter cups and m&m's I had in the freezer. I ate when I wasn't really hungry, but I ate anyway.</div>
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<div>
For now, I need to just move on. To have a good Monday.</div>
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Someday, I need to figure out earlier how to be aware of what is bothering me. But now, I just need a good day.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-51285804352153607752015-09-12T22:15:00.001-04:002015-09-12T22:18:42.170-04:00Six years....I wasn't me this week and I wasn't consciously aware of why. I'd open the pantry to look at the calendar or write something on it and close the door again without doing my original task. <div><br></div><div>I ate a lot of shit. I felt like crap because I was eating like crap. And I didn't care. Panera for dinner one night, with the 99 cent bakery item, frozen yogurt the next. Popcorn at the movies tonight.</div><div><br></div><div>Around Thursday, I figured it out. And I just let it keep happening. I knew there was an end, I knew that this eating if my emotions would end tonight. </div><div><br></div><div>Today my little girl would have turned six. I say little girl, not knowing if I carried a boy or a girl, but I always felt I lost a girl. For 43 days, I had a life growing inside if me. I saw a heart beat one week. A flickering light on the ultrasound. The next, it was bleak. Two days later, I had a D&C.</div><div><br></div><div>It was the only time I was pregnant. Thirteen valid tries (unsafe sex doesn't count), one pregnancy, one miscarriage. Those are my stats.</div><div><br></div><div>I was implanted the day before Christmas Eve, I saw the heartbeat the day of Obama's inauguration, I was due on Seotember 12.</div><div><br></div><div>Tomorrow I go back to normal. Tomorrow I eat my normal boring food. Tomorrow I will not weigh myself. Tomorrow.</div><div><br></div><div>Today, I think about a little girl I never got to know.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-62599011399963082952015-08-24T19:46:00.001-04:002015-08-25T07:30:55.479-04:00What its like inside my brainTuesday<br />
<br />
<i>Great weigh-in. I feel strong. I am back within the range where it could be goal, where I could fluctuate a pound here or there. </i><br />
<br />
I stand in Dr. Ben's office and mindlessly eat Hershey miniatures. <i>It's just a couple. I don't weigh in until next week. I'm good. I'll be good.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Wednesday<br />
<br />
The scale was up almost a pound. <i>Did I eat more chocolate than I thought yesterday? How could that happen? Why am I eating these dark chocolate kisses in my office? I know they are only like 20 calories, a few more can't really hurt. Oh my god, my parents are coming tomorrow. They'll be here for four days. We'll be eating out. I have to make cookies for my father. I had such good momentum going into Tuesday's weigh-in…why the visit now? How can I strategize this visit better?</i><br />
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Thursday<br />
<br />
The scale was up again. <i>OK, I'll make all my dad's cookies on Friday and get them out of the way. I won't eat any. We'll grill out on Friday night. I'll still eat my normal breakfast, lunches and snacks. I'll still be able to work out.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Friday<br />
<br />
<i>These cookies taste so good. I'm not even hungry. Why am I eating them? My mouth is hungry, watering for them. My stomach is starting to hurt. Why can't I stop eating them?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Saturday<br />
<br />
<i>At this point, I should just enjoy this weekend as a vacation, right? People can indulge on vacations. I'll be up a few pounds, I'll be better next week, right? No…I can't enjoy this. I'm eating "junk" food, "good" food, "yummy" food…and I can't enjoy it. I should just let myself enjoy this, it's going to happen anyway. My parents have been in the house for less than 48 hours and suddenly I've reverted to old, bad eating habits. How does that happen? They aren't even doing anything. It's just so pavlovian…I can't help myself.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Sunday<br />
<br />
<i>It's the last day, I can eat better tomorrow. We're going out to dinner. </i>My mom ordered hot, soft pretzels for an appetizer. I got a burger and fries.<i> I'm full from dinner and yet I'm eating cookies again. At this point, why the hell not? I hate myself for it. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Monday<br />
<br />
<i>The scale hates me. I'm up eight pounds. I know it's not real. It's like a false positive. Eight pounds and yet I still went right to the kisses when I walked into the office. Sigh</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Wednesday<br />
<br />
<i>I'm down four on my scale, didn't even want to look at the gym last night when I weighed in. End of day, with clothes. I couldn't have handled looking at a higher middle number. My eating still sucks, though it's better. </i><br />
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<i>I saw on Facebook that a family friend is pregnant. She already has one kid, by a different guy. She has an entry level job. Yes, I'm being judgmental. When I texted my niece about it, she said, "she is a really good mom." Sorry, I have a broken uterus, I'm not feeling very gracious about this right now. </i>Somehow I found myself in Dr. Ben's office, ate a couple and grabbed a couple for my bag. <i>I suck.</i></div>
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<div>
Thursday</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My four sisters are going on vacation together this weekend. I wasn't invited. I'm 16, 15, 14 and 9 years younger than them, but it still hurts that I wasn't included, not even considered. Somehow I feel like I'm being left out -- punished -- for my singledom as the four of them, and their husbands, vacation together. I sit in a colleagues office and eat caramel cremes and Dove dark chocolates. <i>My sisters suck.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Friday<br />
<br />
I had a good workout.<i> I'm almost there. But not yet. </i>I'm getting frozen yogurt after I go grocery shopping. I managed to skip the candy aisle. <i> I'm eating this because I want it. I'm making the conscious decision to eat this, not because I'm stressed, not because I'm eating my feelings, not because I haven't heard from a boy in a few days or feel over-whelmed at work. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Saturday<br />
<br />
<i>I feel good. I'm strong. I'm staying on track today.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Sunday<br />
<br />
<i>How the fuck did the scale go up? I stayed within my calories. Yes, I had an Italian sausage at the Eagles game last night, with practically no roll. </i>It took talent to eat a sausage link -- with practically no roll -- and not have it look phallic.<i> Ergh…..stay on track. Stay on track.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Monday<br />
<br />
I was down two pounds this morning, still up two from pre-parents visit. I walked by Dr. Ben's office today, without even a second glance. I stayed away from the kisses in the office. I worked out as soon as I got home. I stayed on track nutritionally 100%.<br />
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<i>I think I can let go of the obsessing. A little bit. At least for this week.</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-21184378856751812002015-08-12T07:29:00.000-04:002015-08-12T07:33:17.284-04:00When we will ever get over it?I was scanning Facebook last night and saw this headline:<br />
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<a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/tatiana-perez/2015/08/read-this-if-you-dont-really-have-an-eating-disorder-but-kind-of-do/" target="_blank">"Read this if You Don't Really Have an Eating Disorder, But Kind of Do."</a><br />
<br />
Coincidentally, I had been thinking about my eating disorder years, when I was afraid of food and wondering if I was going down the same path, even subtly. I have green seedless grapes in my fridge. I had had some at a friend's house about a month ago and they tasted so good, I wanted more. And then I put them into myFitnessPal and saw how many carbs are in them. Even in a half serving. And there the grapes sit in my fridge.<br />
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I've always had a precarious relationship with food, with my body, with exercise. I think it's something that most women do, even if they have never been perceived to have a weight issue. It's how we're wired. It's how society talks to us.<br />
<br />
I was out with a radio rep a few weeks ago and somehow got on the topic of food, dieting, exercise... and he told me his girlfriend once told him that she thought about food all the time. And the thought I had was, "wow, I'm not the only one."<br />
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I think about food. all. the. time. When I'm dieting. When I'm not.<br />
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So when I clicked on the above article and read it, I thought immediately, I could have written this.<br />
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<i>We know what it feels like to be incapacitated by body obsession—by food thoughts. Because we’ve long been slaves to that apex of tall, thin, white, blond perfection. That apex we’ve been climbing to since we were old enough to look in the mirror and hate what we saw—since we were old enough to be consumed by our consumption. To jitter with paranoia that people are constantly critiquing our bodies—cheapening them. Fattening them. To fiercely hold the fucked up belief that our weight and our happiness are perfectly, inversely proportional. Even if we’ve never had an eating disorder, we grew up with them.<br /><br />That’s why a violent surge of panic rushes through me when my boss suggests we order pizza for dinner. I had two slices of bread with my salad at lunch—that’s plenty of carbs for today.</i><br />
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<div>
Most think of eating disorders as simply anorexia or bulimia -- starving or binging and purging. There are so many facets, such a spectrum of what qualifies as an eating disorder. I think, in a way, unless a woman has a healthy relationship with food and exercise (can I meet her, please?), we all have a tendency for disorder.</div>
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At my worst, in my mid-30s, I was diagnosed as an exercise bulimic. I ate about 800-1,000 calories a day and worked out to the point of having a net negative amount of calories, typically two or three hours of cardio. And I was afraid of food. My nutritionist asked me to eat an ice cream cone as my homework assignment. Not just stop and get it somewhere, but to actually have the ice cream and cones in my house.</div>
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I bought a single, serving container of ice cream and a box of cones, and literally put one tablespoon of ice cream on the cone. I can see myself -- to this day -- standing at the counter, looking at the ridiculously small amount of ice cream on the cone and not being able to lick it. And at that moment, I realized that this could be an issue.</div>
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So last night, after reading the article, I had to have a heart to heart with myself. Yes, I am afraid of the grapes in my fridge, but that didn't stop me from sitting in Dr. Ben's office yesterday and eating eight Hershey miniatures. One could say that's just another symptom of a disorder. Possibly, but like I said, until or unless I have a perfectly healthy relationship with food, there will always be some disorder.</div>
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What I validated for myself last night was…I'm allowed a cheat. Where once those Hershey miniatures in the afternoon would have turned into a handful also in my bag for later and four days of cheating, I'm done with the chocolate for awhile. </div>
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<div>
If I really wanted the grapes, I would eat them and fit them into my day. Bananas have nearly as many carbs and I have one in my smoothie most mornings.</div>
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<div>
I'm 10 years older than I was when I was working out to excess. I don't have the energy to do that, even if I was inspired to! I like my 10 p.m. bedtime too much, and am NOT an morning exerciser.</div>
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<div>
I run. I eat healthy. Do I obsess? Yes, sometimes. But can I let go and enjoy myself for a meal? Yes, sometimes.</div>
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That, I think, is the healthiest my mind is going to be with my relationship with food.<br />
<br />
When we will ever get over our food issues? I think this is the closest I'm going to get.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-80500311008129093372015-07-20T15:27:00.002-04:002015-07-20T15:27:28.725-04:00Seeing the Big PictureI posted this assortment of pictures to Instragram the other day (I'm lauriebaseball there, too).<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IEOHh8L7aWg/Va1HWpe7Z2I/AAAAAAAABQs/ysjKozj9Exs/s1600/IMG_3708.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IEOHh8L7aWg/Va1HWpe7Z2I/AAAAAAAABQs/ysjKozj9Exs/s320/IMG_3708.PNG" width="242" /></a></div>
The scale has been stuck on -- or a more accurate term -- bobbling between -- 189.6, 190.4, 189.8, 190.6 and so I decided to break down Friday morning and try on my size 10 jeans. Just to see if I could have a positive moment on something not scale-related.<br />
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They were tight, but not too tight to wear in public. It was a victory. These jeans, which fit me so perfectly at 180, two years ago; these jeans, which did not fit me at all last year in the mid-180s…these jeans fit me now. Even heavier, because my body is changing back to what it once was. What it once was in a good way.<br />
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To take a step back and stop thinking about the numbers, which are literally within 10 pounds of each other, I dug out some pictures from college. That put is all in perspective.<br />
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Am I happy at 190? Seeing what I once looked like when I topped the scales at 252, I am not only happy, I'm proud of myself. I don't even know who that person is on the left in the late 1980s and early 1990s.<br />
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It will always be a struggle, I will always have to watch what I eat, and exercise will always need to be my friend, but I will never go back to where I was. And I have to recognize the level of health (not to mention happiness) -- and probably a good number of extra years -- I've given myself.<br />
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I will never be a size 2. And quite frankly I don't want to be. I am a curvy girl, with a great rack. I don't want to lose that. But I don't have to be a 22.Depending on the style, the manufacturer and the actual item, I am anywhere from a 10 to a 14, mostly landing in 12-land.<br />
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And as someone who used to wear size 22 as her regular size, 12 is just fine with me.<br />
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I visited a friend in Baltimore yesterday. And while I've seen her more recently than five years ago, I hadn't seen her kids since 2010. We recreated a picture from the last time I was there. They weren't the only ones who have changed in those five years.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_PlS9_LvtcQ/Va1JlrQOPCI/AAAAAAAABQ4/lzIO8WdzkKk/s1600/IMG_3747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_PlS9_LvtcQ/Va1JlrQOPCI/AAAAAAAABQ4/lzIO8WdzkKk/s320/IMG_3747.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I remember this period of my life. I remember that I was at a weight I wasn't thrilled with, but I also remember thinking that I looked OK.<br />
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And then I see this and think, "oh my god."<br />
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I was on year two of fertility treatment and my body was full of hormones and drugs; my emotions were a roller coaster and I'm sure my eating mimicked them.<br />
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I posted this picture to Facebook and a former colleague wrote:<br />
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"5 years looks great on you."<br />
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Ever the self-depracating fool who can't just say thank you, I responded: "Lots of fertility drugs in 2010, lots of sweating in 2015."<br />
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She wasn't going to let me off easy. "Not to take anything away from the sweating, but inner peace has a lot to do with it too. I'm so glad to see you happy."<br />
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The lesson? The point of this post? I think I need to try to remember that the scale, the numbers, the exercise -- they can't fully define me as they have been. As Amy correctly pointed out, I look good because I'm happy, because I like where I am in my life. And while a lot of that has to do with how healthy I am, it also has to do with where I am -- what I have, what I've achieved -- in my life.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-33964732572652766502015-07-13T21:23:00.001-04:002015-07-13T21:23:51.498-04:00Tired legsI did lower body tonight, which, considering we use weights for squats and lunges and kettbells for squats, it's really like a full-body workout. My legs are tired but I feel good. Cardio was :45 of a speed climb with 3:00 of recovery (also speed climb). Started walking at 4.0, running at 4.5; finished my set walking at 4.6 and running at 5.2, with a full sprint at 6.5.<div><br></div><div>I admit planned on running at all, but my legs feel good. Tomorrow will be a full run after upper body. I've got three sessions at the gym with my trainer this week and next, planning to make the most of it and kill it on the scale by August 1.</div><div><br></div><div>All numbers are good....scale is back under 190, just .4 up from before my surgery; I'm at 632 miles for the year, shooting for 700 by the end of July. I'm in a good rhythm.</div><div><br></div><div>Right now, this is the most important thing in my life...I'm the most important thing in my life.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-40804923764824244372015-07-12T19:46:00.001-04:002015-07-12T20:29:41.228-04:00Kicking ass....kind ofI'm proud of myself for bouncing back so quickly. Decent nutrition the past few days, kick ass workouts and a good mindset.<div><br></div><div>I set three workout goals for the weekend, even wrote them in my to do list</div><div>* 15 total miles for the weekend</div><div>* run in my treadmill, .5 consecutively (as I've said, my treadmill is much tighter than the one at the gym)</div><div>* do an upper body workout</div><div><br></div><div>I printed out some simple workouts and created a mini calendar on the wall outside my bedroom. I have the week planned out with my workouts, and they include circuit training and strength training at home (my Achilles heel). </div><div><br></div><div>I've got a couple sessions with my trainer to make up after my surgery and vacation, so I'm hitting the gym three times this week and next.</div><div><br></div><div>I feel good. I enjoyed myself in Richmond, made myself enjoy every thing I out in my mouth and now I have my routine back. This is living, this is life.</div><div><br></div><div>And this is planking on the bottom step.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XIWz0nmQq4g/VaMGciOrcQI/AAAAAAAABQM/BzE2m1ivMJA/s640/blogger-image-562600097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XIWz0nmQq4g/VaMGciOrcQI/AAAAAAAABQM/BzE2m1ivMJA/s640/blogger-image-562600097.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-72717081478091766762015-07-08T21:58:00.001-04:002015-07-08T22:01:15.779-04:00DominoesI hate how one little change in my routine can completely derail me. I was so strong, so confident, so on track, and then I had surgery, and then my student from Denmark came to visit and then we went to Richmond and then I still have an 18-year-old in my house,and then and then and then.<div><br></div><div>Did you know that Denmark only has plain and peanut m&m's? Not dark, not dark peanut, no almond, not crunchy, not pretzel. Did you know that I have all of those in my pantry? With berry Oreos and potato chips.</div><div><br></div><div>I packed my food for Richmond. Protein shake powder all measured out in baggies. Protein bars. Greek yogurt. And then I got to Richmond and we were having lasagna for dinner. When I asked for chicken for dinner, would it be a problem to grill me a chicken breast. "You don't want lasagna?" I'd like more protein than carbs. And then my brother jumped in with, let's get ice cream tonight.</div><div><br></div><div>In the end I did have chicken breast for dinner, but overall it just seemed easier to not be difficult and eat what was being served.</div><div><br></div><div>I blame no one but myself. I'm an adult who makes her choices. In the end it's all on me. The eating, the lack of self control, the three pounds I'm up since before my surgery.</div><div><br></div><div>I put my sweet little Charlotte on a plane tomorrow. And I told her all opened sweets are being put in a ziplock bag and going with her. I get back to the gym on Friday, and to make up for a few sessions I've missed over the last two weeks, I'm planning three sessions per week for the next two. </div><div><br></div><div>I've sent myself some good workout charts from Pinterest to print out at work tomorrow. So the nights I don't go to the gym, I can get in some strength/circuit training.</div><div><br></div><div>I will have challenges the next few days. Lunch with a friend on Friday in Philadelphia, Chris in town this weekend, lunch in Baltimore next weekend, as well as a neighbors party. One day at a time. Tomorrow my focus is creating my plan, staying on track nutritionally and getting a good workout in when I'm back for my Newark airport drop off.</div><div><br></div><div>On the plus side, I have walked every day, ran once. Have they been stellar workouts? No. But I've moved. I've burned some calories.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm going to sum it all up with the photo I posted to Instagram tonight. Not exactly the most positive of messages to go with my 30 days of positivity, but it's a message I needed to embrace tonight as I put oral surgery, out of town visitors and out of town visits to rest.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D_R5qFezKLo/VZ3V6Ox48QI/AAAAAAAABPY/luw4veUQw0c/s640/blogger-image--304508464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D_R5qFezKLo/VZ3V6Ox48QI/AAAAAAAABPY/luw4veUQw0c/s640/blogger-image--304508464.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-69612674115032438512015-07-03T22:30:00.001-04:002015-07-03T22:30:40.685-04:00Making choicesThis is how my afternoon started<div><br></div><div>me: can I have chicken for dinner? </div><div><br></div><div>My sister in law: you don't want lasagna? </div><div><br></div><div>Me: I'd rather not eat carbs for dinner </div><div><br></div><div>my brother: we'll have to go get ice cream after dinner</div><div><br></div><div>It all worked out fine. Did I snack off plan at the pool? Yes. But I went for a walk/run, my sister-in-law graciously grilled me a chicken breast for dinner and I had nonfat frozen yogurt.</div><div><br></div><div>While I was on my walk, I made the decision that I wasn't going to consider this weekend shot and blow my eating habits, but neither can I expect that in going to stay on plan 100%. I'll get my workouts in as best I can, I'll make the best choices I can and when I don't, I need to let go and just enjoy it.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-42879583526278521812015-07-02T21:11:00.001-04:002015-07-02T21:11:23.827-04:00Goal 1 completed...kindaI'm the type of person who always wants to push it a little more, who strives for perfection, who achieves something and immediately finds fault with it. Call me Type A, call me OCD, call me crazy...I accept it all!<div><br></div><div>This morning at the gym, I ran for not one mile but two. Two consecutive miles. For 25 minutes. And I should just stop there. Hooray for me, but I can't.</div><div><br></div><div>Here come the but's....I was barely running at 4.7 mph, it was on the gym's treadmill which is much "looser" than my treadmill at home, and of course, the way I measure my happiness these days....the scale is going in the wrong direction.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm headed out of town and worried about falling off completely. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-37183060238195508782015-07-02T00:45:00.001-04:002015-07-02T00:45:27.052-04:00Getting it backI did well with my numbers, had a decent walk after dinner with a friend, but I still don't feel strong. I think because within those 1100 calories, there was chocolate and a cookie. But also not in those 1100 calories are two cookies...I had the bag opened and grabbed my yogurt instead. That was a big win for me, for keeping the cravings at bay, for fighting the mouth hunger and winning.<div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1083596745742961960.post-61661031925376197872015-06-28T20:17:00.001-04:002015-06-28T20:17:40.424-04:00July goalsThe week went well. Surgery was a success. I still can't open my mouth completely but I'm eating solid food again. I am disappointed that limited calorie intake on Wednesday and Thursday did not translate on the scale. But in looking at my food..well smoothies and yogurt....there was half or more of my nutrient ratio that was carb.<div><br></div><div>I'm back on track this weekend. Ran on the treadmill yesterday...intervals of .25, .5 and .6; and my usual six mile walk this morning. Food was good. I'm hoping to see something on the scale tomorrow.</div><div><br></div><div>I know July isn't until Wednesday just I'll just start a couple days early. </div><div><br></div><div>1. Planks and squats every night. I have the numbers written on my full,length mirror with a dry erase marker.</div><div>2. 185. This morning I was up slightly to 190. I can lose five pounds in a month, even with a weekend in Richmond, a lunch in Philadelphia, a lunch in Baltimore and a house guest for 10 days. Challenges for sure, but I can work through them.</div><div>3. One consecutive mile of running. I have a 5k at the end of July after all.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08837052197796193970noreply@blogger.com0