Coming In Hot 2016!

I don’t really believe in resolutions, per se.  I love the feelings invoked by a New Year.  It feels like a clean slate, fresh start or new beginning.  A time to celebrate and reflect.  We reminisce the events of the past year, and use the New Year to hopefully apply what we’ve learned about others and ourselves or the world around us, let go of things holding us back or down, remember loved ones lost and cherish friends and family still among us.  For me there is just something renewing and freeing about ringing in a New Year (or in my case, snoozing in a New Year).  I’m really excited about 2016! I’m 70 pounds lighter, halfway to my goal weight and feeling healthier and happier.

So, while I don’t do resolutions, I do have “intentions” and I intend for this to be my best year yet!

Oh!  One housekeeping note from last weeks blog:  the bra.  I did end up purchasing 2 bra’s from Victoria Secret.  And they fit.  Ish.  I didn’t try them on in the store, and yes I know I probably should have done so.  So I get home and put them on.  Or one of them, not both at the same time obviously.  At first glance, it was awesome!  Then I lifted my arms and WHAT. THE. HECK!?!!?  All I can say is that I’m totally upping my side-boob game.  I kept trying to push them back in, but they just flopped back out over the side of my bra, under my arm.  It was like having 4 boobs, just 2 without nipples.  I don’t know, maybe losing a couple more inches around my chest will help.  I thought I’d be more disappointed, but honestly playing with boob 3 and boob 4 just made me laugh.  Lesson learned.

Anyway, back to my intentions, some most of them are silly but I’m excited to share them with you.  They fall under 4 basic categories:

FASHION

FOOD

FUN

FITNESS

I could have added a fifth “F” but that’s another blog entirely.  😉  Oh what?  Like you all weren’t thinking it!  Wait, you weren’t?  Oh…awkward.  Moving on.

F is for FASHION

This week we will cover my fashion intentions for 2016. By fashion, I just mean little things like not wearing my pajamas to the grocery store, taking better care of my skin, picking lip and nail color outside of my “neutral” comfort zone.  In general, just taking more pride and care in my appearance.  I was pretty proud of my gel color choice this week, purplicious.

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My daughter’s response, “yeah mom, you’re really living life on the edge…”  Rome wasn’t built in a day, love.

I spend a small fortune on skin care products (I love Origin products) that half the time I forget to use.  Since I plan on stepping out more often wearing makeup, I’m going to have to be super vigilant about taking care of my skin.  After the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season, I thought today would be a good day to give myself a facial.  I had one buried underneath my sink that I’d been wanting to try, it’s first words to me were “Hello Gorgeous”.  I  mean, obviously now I have to use it.  It goes on to say:

The secrets to gorgeous glowing skin and a happy positive mood have been long celebrated across the globe through the healing powers of Gold.  Romans looked to Gold to heal skin problems, Egyptians revered the healing powers of Gold in mind, body and soul, and the women of China have used Gold as their secret for glowing skin

What better way to start 2016!  Clearly this is what Anderson Cooper meant when he featured me on CNN.

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A magic pot of Gold!!!  The packaging continues to romance me by adding:

The Passport To Beauty Gold Radiance Luxury Facial Mask (not pretentious sounding at all) is uniquely formulated with powerful Colloidal Gold (colloidal?  that sounds…hmm) along with Collagen (I know what this is!) to restore, rejuvenate and promote your skin’s natural beauty.  The mask serum is formulated with Gold essence and an infusion of Rosa Damascena…

blah blah blah, patience is not my virtue, let’s get on with it…

It suggests leaving it on for 20 minutes so it “melts into your skin”.  This sounds alarming.  Then it says it’s left “thoughtful openings for the eyes, nose and mouth.”  THOUGHTFUL openings??!?!?!  Thank you for allowing me not to suffocate in my quest for beauty…  I take it out of the package, my excitement notably diminished, to find this:

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OMG.  It’s ironman.  I’ve got real concerns that I’m going to lay this over my face and it’s not going to come off.  I try googling it, but that just scares me more.  Deep breaths.  New year, new me.  I’ve got this.

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It’s Ironman meets Hannibal Lecter.  And how big a face did they make this for, none of my “thoughtful openings” are lining up.  Every time I try to breathe in thru my nose, the nose flap gets sucked up into my nostril, making me flail in panic while I try to blow it out without snotting myself. I’m supposed to lay here for 20 minutes, letting this melt into my skin, meditating on happy thoughts.  Are they freaking kidding me?!?

Just when I start relaxing, man-child finds me, and screams in horror.  That’s not very relaxing and I can’t talk very well because the flap part for underneath my nose is actually covering my mouth.  Man-child flees.

I begin to relax again, then husband starts slamming things around downstairs in a snit about something.  It must be difficult to be the World’s Prettiest Person according to Anderson Cooper.

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INSERT MY EYE ROLL HERE

Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, I know exactly why he’s in a snit.  I’ve left the kitchen for him to clean up.  I figured the World’s Prettiest Person needed to come down to earth a wee bit and I did cook after all.  (snicker)

Finally, the 20 hours minutes are over.  It’s completely slid down my face, I can barely open my eyes, and it’s a bit tingly.

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That’s not snot under my nose, it’s the mask juices.  At least I think it is.

Man-child enters the bathroom as I peel this stuff off.  The conversation goes something like this:

“Why is that thing on  your face?” – Man-child

“It’s a beauty mask, to make my skin glow” – Me

Man-child looks dubious.

“What?  You don’t think I need a beauty mask, because I’m already pretty?”

Silence.

I repeat the question, louder, thinking maybe he didn’t hear me even though he’s standing right there looking at me.

Silence.

“Really?” 

He giggles.

He’s going to live with us forever if he doesn’t up his compliment game with the ladies.

Anyway, my face does feel softer, but I’m not really seeing any evidence of a magnificent “glow”.  Maybe I’ll notice a difference tomorrow.  However, I feel it’s a terrific start to my new goals and intentions.

My phone reminder alarm goes off reminding me to take my vitamins.  That’s another area of my life I really need to work on in 2016.  Vitamin deficiency can be an issue with Bariatric patients, and luckily my insurance covered a monthly subscription for a vitamin pack, which includes a multi-vitamin, iron and calcium supplements and a B-12 nasal spray.  An unfortunate side-effect from the sleeve surgery is thinning hair due to lack of nutrient absorption.  I’ve definitely noticed it’s an issue, I’m hoping by being more diligent with my vitamin intake that I can reverse the thinning side-effect.  I hate to think of the alternatives.

I’ll leave you with this awesome little snippet of my bootcamp today.  Enjoy 😛

 

I can barely formulate a sentence as you can see, and I’ve got something in my teeth, even though I didn’t eat breakfast…awkward.  My daughter was mocking me the whole time “in the bag baby” – “mom who talks like that?” and “bye?”  “Who are you saying bye to mom, all three of your snapchat followers.”  Jealousy is not a good look for her…  Just saying’. ❤

COMING UP:

Friday – Secret Subject Swap! My topic is “Should old acquaintance be forgot..?”  I used to participate in this challenge years ago, and I’m excited to be back!

Next Week:  I’ll tackle FOOD!

Fat Girl Running!

One of my many New Years Resolutions was to lose weight.  Actually, if I’m being honest, that one has been topping my list every year since my son was born.  I like to tell people that I haven’t lost the baby weight from our youngest child, but then quickly follows the awkward question:

“oh, how old is your baby?”

“six”

“six months?”

sigh.

BUT, this IS the year I do it.  2012 is my year!  Bob from The Biggest Loser will tell you to take it one day at a time, because if you look at how far you really have to go, you’ll give up before you even start.  I’m trying to take that advice, and also to figure out how I got here in the first place (making babies aside).  The good news is that my slim coach says I’m on track to meeting the goal I set for myself this year.

The weather is getting nicer and it’s not too hot yet, so I decided to take my exercise outside the house yesterday.  I think it is safe to say that self-esteem is one of my big issues, so to venture outside and work out is a major undertaking for me.  I’m convinced everyone is watching me, judging me, making fun of me.  Yeah, like I said, I have some issues.  I’ve convinced myself though that if I look down, and don’t make eye contact that I’m invisible.  Coincidentally, if I could have one superpower, it would be invisibility, so there ya go.  What can I say, I keep my therapist busy.

I decide I can handle 30 minutes of exercise.  I’ve been doing 20 minutes pretty consistently, and I decide I need to stretch myself a bit.  Plus, changing up the routine is supposed to keep you from getting bored.  Keeping it fresh and interesting is supposed to help you stick with it.  The jury is still out on that one.  I loathe exercise.  I don’t feel energized afterwards.  Endorphins?  What the heck are those?  Even when I was thin, I hated exercise.  It’s a necessary evil, I think accepting that I’ll never love it, is the key to my potential success.  Plus, I found something that feels worse than exercise, and that is being overweight.  I hope you understand my dilemma.  I guess it comes down to which one I hate more.  Right now, exercise looks more appealing, which is a testament to how far I’ve come in recent months.  A 30 minute walk may not seem like much to most people, but when you are carrying an extra 100 lbs, it’s excruciating work.  I feel like I’ve been walking for days, I’m sweating and I’m huffing and puffing (but I couldn’t blow a house down right now).  I turn around to look how far I’ve gone, I can still see the mailbox.  It’s been 1 minute.  Oh boy.  82 degrees suddenly feels like 102 degrees.  My face is hot, so I know its bright red.  Just keep moving forward, one step in front of the other.  Maybe it’s just me, but I think cars slow down as they drive past me.  Okay, it’s probably just me.  More than likely.  Right?  Yes, of course, I’m being silly.  At some point, I begin to feel a little dizzy, and I look ahead of me and I’m pretty sure I see my husband.  Is it hot enough to see a mirage?  Am I about to pass out?  I squint?  No, it’s not him.  Wait, yes it is.  What is he doing out here?  Maybe I’m not walking.  Maybe I’ve passed out from exertion and I’m dreaming this whole sequence of events.  I pinch myself.  It hurt.  I must be awake.  I squint in the direction of the man walking toward me again, it still looks like my husband.  Weird.  I find myself a bit annoyed, he was supposed to wait till I got back home before he went for his run.  He couldn’t wait 30 minutes?  At this point, I have a little internal argument with myself on whether I should be pissed or not that he followed me when I realize that I’m actually close enough to see him now.  He’s definitely not my husband.  He’s bald and grey.  He’s in good shape, but he’s definitely got 20 years on my husband.  Plus, he’s wearing a t-shirt.  That really should have been my first clue that it wasn’t my husband.  He runs shirtless (naturally).  Wow.  I really am tired.  This walk can’t end soon enough.

I finally make it home, grab a water bottle, and crawl up the stairs where I collapse on the floor of my bedroom under the ceiling fan, breathing quite heavily.  Hubby is standing there (shirtless) preparing to go for his run now.  I feel briefly guilty for the bad thoughts I had about him earlier, but that just makes me more surly, so I shoot him a dirty look instead.  He is naturally confused by my sudden hostility, and looks at me quizzically.  I roll my eyes, further annoyed by the fact that he’s not more sensitive to my inner turmoil.  Then he makes it worse for himself by asking if I enjoyed my walk.  Dude, I’m lying on the floor in the fetal position, sweat pouring off of me in buckets, and I can’t even talk and my hostility is literally rolling off of me in waves and you ask me if I enjoyed my walk?!??!?!?!?!?!!?  He wisely ducks out of the room while I try to move objects with my mind to throw at him.  Poor guy.  He never stood a chance.

I’m pretty sure this is what I looked like on my walk

And I’m equally sure this is what my husband looks like when he runs

Surely, you can understand my resentment.  By the time he comes back from his run, I’m nearly recovered.  I’ve at least made it downstairs in the upright position.  He walks in and he’s glowing with a sweaty sheen reminiscent of Edward’s glitter moment in the Twilight movies.  I sigh in disgust.  He asks “what?”  I ignore him.  He’s barely even breathing hard.  Bastard.

I should note here that clearly the problem is mine.  My husband is fully supportive of all my crazy weight loss efforts and schemes.  He finds me beautiful today, right now in this moment.  He has never made me feel ugly or fat.  My problems and issues with my weight  are mine alone, and even though he often takes the brunt of my frustration, he is never the cause of it.  He works very hard to look good and feel great, and I never want to take that away from him because I don’t feel the same.  I’ve had people in my life that have made me feel self-conscious about my weight, or have made my weight an issue, but he is not one of them, and for that I will never be able to thank him enough.  His support means everything to me.  So honey, next time I bite your head off for no reason, may you remember this post and take comfort.  But seriously, do you have to glow?  Is that really necessary?  Can you not at least fake exhaustion?  For me?  Just once?!?!?!  Oh and hey, I bought your favorite ice cream again (I’m not above sabotage, don’t judge me).

To be continued….