You Want me to do What for How Long?!

One day, a few years ago, I signed up to run a marathon...in Paris. Yes, bribery is a good thing. I took a whole three minutes to think about it before committing to the 16 week training program. I don't like to run. I wasn't running at all when I started. I've never run again.


(I'm second from the right)

When I finished the marathon, after 5.5 hours, and right before I drank the first bottle of champagne and ate the little quiches someone brought to me at the finish line from our little neighborhood bakery, I thought to myself: there aren't that many things in life that I ENJOY doing that I would be willing to do for over five hours...(in fact I think you are supposed to contact your physician if you have that much fun for that long). I just did something I hate doing for five hours! Man, am I glad I'm done, and wasn't that fun!

I've resisted starting the new "exercise program" that I should have started with my "nutrition program". There are so many things I'd rather do...like read a bunch of articles, or send emails to the Done birthday girls, or get ready for work, I have shoes to pick out after all...

I just got the two Sparkpeople DVD's that have a bunch of 10 minute workouts on them. (Well, they lie because they make you do a little warmup and a little cool down with the 10 minutes in between, but who's counting other than moi).

I started wondering how many things I didn't like to do, but could stand doing for 10 minutes.



* Folding fitted sheets (I gave this up for Lent)
* Paying bills that can't be automated or paid online
* Cleaning up after a good party
* Grooming a muddy horse
* Flossing
* Changing someone else's baby's diaper
* Wait in line
* Have my legs waxed

You know what? I could do any of the above things for 10 minutes and wouldn't like it. But those 10 minute cardio blast videos with coach Nicole aren't that bad...I actually kinda liked them, the two I did yesterday and today.

Maybe I'll do another one tomorrow...instead of folding the sheets. (The housekeeper can just pull those suckers straight out the dryer.)

But don't count on a marathon movie run of Coach Nicole's greatest hips...

I'm Awesome and, by the way, It's All About Me!

I'm stuck at an 11 pound loss. The good news is I haven't gained anything back. The bad news is that I am now about a week off from my goal.

So what's going on?
I feel like I have not been vigilant. I looked back and there were several days when I didn't record everything. Do I think that if I don't write it down that my body won't know it went in my mouth? What's up?

I think I just have to pay attention again. I got distracted. I got busy with other things. Those other things were important, but not more important than ME! I have to be the most important thing (health-wise) for the next few months for this to work.



So just in case you were wondering , it IS all about me. I'm awesome! I am so awesome that I'm jealous of myself, 'cause it's all about me!

Genuineness Only Thrives in the Dark Like Celery (AHuxley)

Last night I realized I had developed a passion for celery. The crunch of it after a frustrating day...my jaws craved it.


(this man has passion for...celery)

Guided by my cajun yearning for spicy Tony Chachare seasoning, celery provides the trasportation from the salt box to my mouth; like a petite pale green pirogue, it holds the spices as they glide into my mouth. Then the CRUNCH followed by fiery flavor.



This just happened recently, overnight, literally overnight. One day there was a ton of celery waiting for the opportunity to wilt in the fridge then last night I couldn't get enough of it. I'm craving it now as I write.

Something has/is happening to me. My tastes are changing, and I like it.

Left Something Behind at the Horse Show

2.2 pounds got left behind somewhere at the horse show. I have some ideas about where they may have gone.

Saturday was a cold, misting, sometimes rainy, gusty winds day. I went for a nice ride in the morning to get my mare and my own brain reacquainted with the arenas. We had a nice quiet ride.

In the afternoon, I started warming up before my test (white breeches alert) when the german cowboy rode his stallion into the warm up arena. My mare who is experiencing midlife crisis and is hearing her biological clock ticking loudly at her own stables that don't do foals or stallions, decided to play hard to get and hard to stay on. It was a handsome stallion, but explosive canter departs are not my idea of a good warm up before a dressage test.

(certainly, this is what she was trying to do)

Against the recommendation of my trainer, I decided to enter the arena and ride my test anyway. Winds were gusting, and the tent flaps were flapping, and the the tent poles were being raised and pounding the ground behind us. It wasn't the best test, very stiff and tight, but I kept her on the pattern and we stayed in our arena. Our exit from the grounds was again explosive when the tents almost blew over. I dismounted and walked her up the hill to the stalls (look, exercise!!!!)

So even though things were different, difficult, and distracting, I stayed on course. Hmmm. I think I can extrapolate that lesson to something related to my eating and exercise habits...

I was mostly concerned this weekend that I would lose my nice pattern of eating, spending time on SparkPeople for motivation, and logging my food. I did bring my regular breakfast and tons of good veggies and fruit to snack on. I forbid myself to eat cheese and crackers which is our normal show grounds fare. I did drink all the champagne I wanted, but I filled up on celery, carrots, and hummus first.

I was so physically busy with riding, grooming, tacking up, cleaning tack, video taping other rides, that I really didn't think too much about eating and I kept moving.

So I think it is my job that makes me fat. My work is intellectually intense, but doesn't require much movement other than my fingers across the keyboard and electrical impulses between neurons and sparks jumping over synapses in my brain. I could stop being an engineer and business COO, but after seeing my riding scores this weekend, I think I'll keep my day job.

The 2.2 pounds I lost were significant. Well, the 3.2 ounces (the .2 pounds) were the significant part. They put me down a notch in the first digit of my weight!

This Alice is in Onederland, and will be chasing the 65 pound jabberwock the rest of the way home.

Packing the Dreaded White Breeches

Time to get serious.

We load the horses tomorrow morning at 7AM. I'll take the day off from work in order to do real manual labor.

First dressage show of the season; we are headed to Poplar Place. I know my breeches fit since they are the same brand that I wear every day to ride, but the coat...ah, I forgot to take out my coat ahead of time to check.



Tonight I tried it on and thank goodness it fits, barely. I'm hoping that by the end of the season, it will become too large and I will have to buy a new one.


n.b. the picture above is NOT me. Objects in mirror are larger than they appear.

I'm not looking forward to putting on the "white stretchy pants", but there really isn't any way to hide it; I'm fat, and the color of my breeches just isn't going to change that fact. HOWEVER, what I eat and how much I exercise WILL change that.

My goals this weekend (other than entering at "A" smiling without wolf boots still on my horse, and me still being on top of my horse for my final "X halt salute") is to avoid the cheese, drink the champagne in moderation, and stick to my plan. Yes, I know, I set lofty goals.

If I'm good, I'll go walk the cross country course for exercise. It is beautiful, hilly, and my rides aren't until the afternoon on both days so I have plenty of time.



I've packed plenty of veggies and fruit, and have left the cheese to others in our party to bring. (I'm hoping they'll bring the cheap cheese I don't like! )

Fortitude and Happy Vegetables

I just finished researching FORTITUDE, the d-day deception that led the Germans to believe that the true amphibious landing would take place at Pas-de-Calais instead of Normandy. The topic of my research was "lessons learned" for large scale deception operations and whether or not these lessons had been integrated into our current military deception doctrine. (yes, I know my life SEEMS exciting, I make it that way on purpose)

So, with my brain filled with double agents, enigma machines, and effective centralized planning and operations, I let my brain wander to the wordv FORTITUDE and whether or not I could successfully employ it as a SparkPeople blog topic and thus earn three SparkPoints.

Well, after much research and pondering, I've come to the conclusion that the word itself is overkill for my weight loss efforts...

Fortitude : strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage

I would love to think that it takes fortitude and that I have it.

The strength of mind part is good, but this new diet/lifestyle doesn't seem to be dangerous, really isn't that painful, and isn't causing much adversity. The more I think of it, it is difficult just because people (like me) don't like to change. It requires less force not to change course. So if I just apply enough force to go into the right direction (eating the right things, exercising, drinking water) I should be able to continue in that direction, with little pain, little adversity, and little need for very much fortitude.

I did find a useful quote though. It does make the word fortitude sound like something I need, and better yet, it references ... vegetables!



“People need trouble -- a little frustration to sharpen the spirit on, toughen it. Artists do; I don't mean you need to live in a rat hole or gutter, but you have to learn FORTITUDE, endurance. Only vegetables are happy.” --William Faulkner

Alice Knew the Secret All Along

Eating the cake makes you grow larger.



Drinking the water,



makes you shrink.



I am now armed to slay my weighty demons.

TSA, Thanks for the Motivation

There are two reasons I started taking pictures of my feet on vacation. The first reason is that I am the family photographer, and it's the only way to get myself into a picture. (I am incapable of taking those cellular phone emo-self-portraits that my teenage girl is so good at)



The second reason is that since TSA started requiring me to remove my shoes in front of all those strangers, I started getting regular pedicures.



Actually, it wasn't the strangers that worried me so much. I was more disturbed at the possibility of revealing untamed feet to government customers and my own employees that might be traveling with me.

Well, TSA is now going to provide me with all of the motivation I need to lose my unwanted pounds. It is called the FULL BODY SCANNER.

I won't post the pictures because my post would get marked as "inappropriate content". But the images I see on the web show that TSA officers will be forced to view every roll of fat; my un-girded and undgirdled loins will be on full display for the brave men and women who keep our air travel safe.



You see, they even have instructional signs to help me exercise to lose those extra pounds.

TSA, thanks for the motivation...to start walking instead of flying.

Restroom Girl: Before and After Pics

I'm hoping my before and after shots will be this amazing. Our restroom icon has gone through a Sparky transformation.



If you are terribly confused, read my previous blog entry...

(I love you, Photoshop!)


I am now seriously considering posting the new improved woman icon on various restroom doors around my hometown.

Does This Dress Make Me Look Fat?

"Does this dress make me look fat?" asks the post-guillotine likeness of Marie Antoinette.



This iconic woman caught my attention today. She's everywhere.

I sure hope I look better than she does when I get to goal. No wonder women have so many hangups about self-image. Look at what someone has used to define the essence of femininity in two colors.

I have some ideas for her makeover:

1) bigger hair
2) a belt
3) biceps
4) maybe a neck
5) hands and feet might help
6) a single nostril a la Picasso
7) shoes

Are those legs or popcicle sticks?

You guys have any better ideas?

Eat Your Veggies, Score Two Desserts

What mixed veggie messages we receive!

All of my life, the authorities mandated "eat your vegetables". It's the right thing to do.



It's the AMERICAN thing to do. They pleaded, they bargained, they begged.

(I used to do that with my kids, now my very healthy 14 year old has declared she is a vegan and now everyone around her says to her "eat your meat". Can't make anyone happy)

So today we had an executive offsite and beforehand my assistant took my order for lunch. There was a choice of fish, steak, or chicken. I asked that she please arrange to have them do something vegetarian for me. My thought was that any institutional meal with meat would be overly sauced and sod(i)omized and would totally wreck my nutritional intake for the day. I reasoned that I could eat a ton of fruit and vegetables at lunch, snack on nuts and then have a great dinner at home.

This approach seemed to cause great concern to those serving the meal. I received a plate FULL of vegetables. 4 different vegetables, large portions, excellently prepared PLUS there was a side salad that included walnuts and blue cheese crumbles.

They kept coming to check on me. Did I have enough to eat? Was it OK? Did I need anything else. It really was alot. I looked around at some of the other dishes that had been served and mentally calculated that the other people at this meeting were probably consuming 1200-1500 calories in this one meal. Mine was the only rationally sized meal there. But there was so much concern.

After I finished my lunch, I stepped out to the restroom. When I returned I found that I had been given TWO desserts!

Must be my reward for finally eating all my vegetables.

I think they must now have an image of the alien vegetable eater in their minds when they think of me...


But this is how I choose to see myself...

No Cheese For You

Last night, I earned the title of Cheese Nazi in my house.



It was a picnic night. That means a night when we are allowed to not eat at the dining room table and actually bring food upstairs; the occasion: LOST. This is the only television show I watch, so dinner was prepared and we were setting up everything for our picnic.

Then he came up the stairs with our lovely bowls of rigatoni with homemade hummus and tomato sauce. And then I saw it, the light sprinkling of fresh Parmesan on the hill of pasta (no longer a mountain! thanks to Sparkpeople).

You have to understand that a little would be fine, but I know myself. I know that I am still weak. The flavor would soon send me downstairs searching for more, searching for the grainy wedge and then all would be abandoned. Not only would that put me over my daily nutritional allocations and spiraling into self loathing despair, I might miss a few minutes of LOST during the search!!

The index finger came out, and I had a determined look in my eye as I pointed down the stairwell "NO. You put cheese on mine. I CANNOT have cheese. NO CHEESE FOR ME."

He was so nice about it. Downstairs he went and a few minutes later my bowl of pasta arrived sans fromage, sin queso, senza formaggio.

No cheese for me...at least not for a while.

Pants on the Ground

Well, it wasn't Larry Platt, but SOMEBODY told me yesterday that my pants were looking baggy. He prefaced it with "I'm not sure this will come across as a compliment, but"



Are you kidding me? If you told me my pants were on the ground, I wouldn't be offended.

My gracious response to the compliment, as I was taught by a nun in fifth grade, was "thanks for noticing".

Stay tuned for next month's big hit:

Pants on the ground, pants on the ground,
looking like a skinny with her
pants on the ground.