Better.

Better. Feeling better. Only what? A week of good eating? Something like that. Travis and I have both remarked how we already feel better. Sad isn't it though. ha! We have continued to make better choices all week long, for all meals, snacks, everything- and we both feel better! The one day we "cheated" was just for Lauren's birthday when we each had a piece of cheesecake, but we worked that in too. Plus we worked out 4 times this week, a drastic improvement from zero. :) Not to say that it was easy, because of course it wasn't. I had to say to Travis last night before he went to the gas station for milk "no big cups" about 6 times because I KNOW he likes to buy 2 king size reeses big cups and eat them in the car on the way home from the store so I won't see him. And I had to avoid Kwik Star in the morning even though Jonah said "mom, aren't we stopping for a donut?" ha! I didn't realize I had THAT bad of a habit. But, like I said, I feel so much better, and in the weeks to come, I hope my clothes start feeling better on me. Travis hard boiled an entire dozen of eggs and ate them every day for breakfast (good for him, not for me!) and I made myself a smoothie every morning this week. We kick boxed each other in the living room, we used our medicine ball so much that it hurt our abs to even sneeze or cough. All good things!

Now we made it to our free day. I shouldn't even say free day, because I have still been really good today. But, we are going on a date tonight, and I am craving my favorite wings from Buffalo Wild Wings :) Chances are I will be feeling like crap after eating so well all week, but man the parmesan garlic wings are aaaamaaazing! So, tomorrow I forsee a walk and probably some abs and upper body in my future, and probably Travis's too, he just doesn't know it yet. Happy Saturday!

Commercials and Grapes.

Today is my daughter's 7th birthday. It is her golden birthday. We celebrated her birthday this last weekend though, with all the bad eating and heartburn to boot. Why? Because I knew when Monday came around I was ready to get back on the horse I fell off of months ago. Travis too. Today we recommitted ourselves again. We went and bought groceries yesterday so we could have the right tools in our house to start correctly again. We also used our Christmas gift cards to purchase some equipment to help us get going in the right direction- a medicine ball and some mitts. I plan on teaching him some of the moves I learned in Roc Fit- just hope he doesn't go all out and hit me instead of the mitts...he doesn't have the best coordination and he gets a little crazy. (Love ya Trav! :p ) But in all seriousness, last week, Lauren and I were watching TV and a nutrisystem commercial came on. She asked me if I planned on buying that. I was dumbfounded. Did my KID just call me fat? Or does she pick up on me calling me fat? yikes. Either way, it needs to change. Then this morning, Jonah was rolling and squeezing a grape between his fingers. He then says to me "Hey mom, this feels like your butt!" Are my kids TRYING to die? lol I mean really. I am only kidding of course, but kids are honest. My kids just happen to be brutally honest.

So, this morning, I made myself a smoothie, packed myself a lunch, and I PLANNED. Texted Travis and we have something already planned for exercise for tonight. There are a TON of races coming up this spring/summer and I want to do them. Maybe I can't get away from having a "grape like" ass, but I can at least firm it up a little. :)

Little by little, bit by bit, I start over. Starting over is ok, just as long as you start over. Because if you don't start over, then you give up. Giving up isn't an option. Stopping isn't an option. I am my own competition, brain versus body, and I am tired of my dumb brain winning. It tells me all the time I can't do it, that I am too tired, too busy, too everything (insert excuse here).  So, it's the bucking horse and me, holding on as tight as I can. Saddle is on, and my grape ass is in it.

What the H*ll

Fat. I'm fat. Son a mother. Piss. Crap. Farts. Turds in a blanket. Ok now that I have done all my "swearing" let's move on. Isn't food SO good? I mean, why is it so damn good? And why do I suck at writing a blog? Oh, I know, because life happened. Again. eating quick and fast is so much easier. And so is whining. And so is not facing it. Day in and day out, as my pants get tighter and my ass gets bigger (if it happens slowly you don't *really* notice it right?) But, I find myself getting closer and closer to my old friend the deuce (that's 200 pounds for you layman's out there) and the deuce and I weren't EVER going to be friends again. She was a nasty old bitch that I was glad to get rid of. But SIGHHHHH it is a NEW YEAR and that always mean us fat girls have to make a promise to be skinny and not eat and workout til we are dead just so we can satisfy some societal image that is set forth for us. right? Isn't that right? oh. no? ok. Well, I don't want to be dead, either from being fat and unhealthy or from working out til I am dead so I suppose I should find a good medium. AGAIN. Ok, so let's get real. I don't think I am fat- I am sure with all this fat talk my husband has already been rolling his eyes. He hates it when I say that crap. Which our men should. Why do we talk about ourselves that way? We are beautiful even when we don't think we are. We are our WORST critics. It isn't about looking like the person on TV or the person next to us at the gym, or hell the person next to us in line at the grocery store getting the fruit and cheese because dammit she is healthy and she MUST be only 135 pounds and she sucks because she can wear yoga pants without looking like her butt has been hit with a meat tenderizer. BREATHE. You are you and I am me. I am 5'4, probably too damn close to 200 pounds. I am no longer healthy. I was, but I am not anymore. I can tell in my digestion, I can tell in my clothing, I can tell in my breathing. THIS is how you gage your fitness. Well, in my opinion I guess. lol I don't claim to be some fitness champ, just a chick with an opinion. Plain and simple, you will never be the person next to you on the treadmill. You will be you. And you have to be happy. So, me being me is knowing what I need to do. Back to basics. I wish I could afford to get back to the old kickboxing routine I used to have, but I have to find another way to be active. Sometimes there really isn't enough time in the day to make everything work- at least to drive to another town for a workout that is a half hour away. I think there is a conspiracy against the county I live in by the way, we are destined to be the fattest county in Iowa, there is literally no where to work out!! I need to have Jillian Michaels live with me. Problem solved. I have 2 weddings to go to this year and I don't want to be busting out of a dress (because dammit I am going to wear a dress) and I definitely don't want to be that girl wearing a pantsuit- because out of my husband and his friends I out age EVERYONE by at least 7 years, some as many as 10 soooooo yeah, fat AND old? SIGN ME UP! :)  (well, unless the pantsuit has shoulder pads, then quite possibly I could be interested) So, let's try this again, who knows what will happen. I don't want to fail, I don't want to be unhealthy- I don't even care about being skinny! I just want to feel like I used to! I want to be able to run, I want to feel STRONG. That is what I miss, feeling like I could seriously kick someone's ass. Not that I would, gentle soul of mine. ;) But at least I could if I wanted.