Check mark, gold star, all that crap.

Despite the enticing appeal of being a lazy slug, I actually got dressed and went to where I needed to go this morning (as referenced in my previous post).

Change is in progress, step 2 will be calling the doctor's office on Monday to talk to the nutritionist I jumped ship on months ago.

As a reward for my good self deeds today (not dirty, don't be a perv), I will continue to be a lazy asshole for the rest of the weekend, except for some pilates.

XO
LB

PS: my coal powered computer won't let me comment on these posts anymore, so I'm totally not ignoring anyone.  Know that I'm reading your comments, and responding to them by talking to my monitor.  All witty and insightful responses, I swear.

The Annoying Brain with Pompoms

Delinquent blogger, right here.   By now, this should surprise none of you, as it doesn't surprise me.  My delinquent habits don't surprise the hydro company either. Believe me.

Hopefully by re-emerging from the wordless pit I've been in, it will spark something in my brain to regain focus and control on the matters at hand.

Since leaving my beloved fat camp (how I miss it, I truly do, but the $$ just ain't there), I've managed to  pack on 10 - 15 lbs that I had previously lost.  That too, didn't surprise me, I knew before I stepped back on to the scale for the first time in months.

That annoying gain isn't the result of a knock-down, drag out binge of gargantuan proportions. Nope.  It's a build up.  It's a lack of energy.  It's, well, the result of not paying attention, and not giving a fuck.

Therein lies the problem.  I stopped caring for a while.  Sure, it was a gradual gain, and it wasn't from anything particularly bad for me (well, except for the awesome ice cream that was on sale for what seemed like forever).  My portions grew insane.  My lack of exercise is bordering on historical.  My choices, less that smart but not overly stupid.

I understand my brain, and i understand the fantastic ideas and revelations that exist in said brain, what i don't understand is what gets lost in the translation from thinking to doing.  There's disconnected synapses, there,  a wire gets cut before the great idea sees the light of day.

As much as I try not to beat the shit out of myself for lagging behind my brain, it's sooooo fucking annoying.  That needs to change.  Not to get all hippy-dippy/let's talk about feelings/hug it out earthmothersoulsister or anything, but I need to get happy and positive here. I need to make a positive change (again).

See?  My brain is all over that shit.  If it could have pompoms, it would be the head cheerleader.  Isn't this a wonderful idea?  Taking control?  Being all you can be without joining the army? RAH RAH RAH!

But I can guarantee that once I get up from this chair, get dressed, and start in on what this morning's grand plan for self-recreation and life domination, I will see my knitting, or the lino block I'm carving, and I'll seriously consider doing that instead. 

It's just a matter of denying that until later on today.  It might just work.

Hopefully, I'll let you know how it turns out before another few months slip by.

XO
LB

Matter on your mind.

Man, I used to be rad at blogjammin'.   Every week I'd come on here and blabber on and on about losing weight and being awesome.    I wish I was still in that habit, I miss it.

It's just that there's not really anything to report these days, I don't want to turn this into "my cats did THIS today!" (because that's what facebook is for, duh.)

How exciting would it be to read "Yeah, another week has gone by, same old shit at work, I still can't afford to go back to fat camp, my boyfriend is still awesome, I'm still fat..."?  While all of those things are true, it just ain't good readin'.

Actually, these "I suck at blogging, sorry I abandoned you" posts are pretty lame too, but well, here it is.

I'm trying to get back into a DIY (read: it doesn't cost me any money) weight loss mindset.  I haven't gone off the rails and gained back all the weight, but I haven't been losing any either.  BALLS.  I hate it.

I don't know what kind of scheme I'll devise, but I think step one will be outdoor wheels for my roller skates.  I have a feeling that will be a super fun way to get this shit going again.

And in case my lovely sister, MrsC, is reading:  it's now my personal mission to drag you down the recreational roller skating road with me.  You WILL love it.  Gauntlet = thrown down!

Peace out, I'm late for work.  And I swear, i'll be back soon (I mean it, really, I do).

XO
LB

Sidelines

There was a time when i was perfectly alright with being on the sidelines. Mostly during mandatory phys. ed. in school. Few fat kids really and truly want to get in on the action with all the sportos and gymnastics girls. The sideline is the safe zone. Nothing jiggles, no side stitches from running a fraction of a lap, no impatient teammates chiding you to hurry the fuck up. It was the best way to pass the endless hour of enforced physical activity. The sideline was my territory, and I didn't care what anyone said. I was of more service there than anywhere.

To a degree, that love for the sideline, that need for the sideline, has stayed with me through the years. Fear, insecurity and complete unwillingness to take a risk kept me there. They fluffed the pillows, they served the drinks, they fed me grapes while fanning me with palm fronds. The sideline was comfortable, safe and calm.

But now, I have woken up. I have come to hate being on the sidelines. The past couple of weeks spent merely observing the other gals at FreshMeat practice has made me realize that I don't want to sit out anymore. I don't want to just watch, I don't want to find another way to contribute. I want to skate. I want to work harder than I have ever worked before. I want condition the hell out of myself and I want to achieve the goal that i have been mentally chasing for the past 6 years.

I hate that it's going to be a slow process for me. I'm not one of those people that can just pick something up right away. Not by a long shot. Being 280lbs is a physically daunting thing any day of the week. I don't know how I survived at 350. My memory of the horrible depression, myriad physical ailments and all-consuming misery indicates that I survived it by the skin of my teeth.

That whole "I've fallen, and I can't get up" thing from a few weeks ago totally rattled me, i admit it. It was my ego more than anything, but now I'm totally fucking frustrated by it. I need to get my brain around it and FIND A WAY TO MAKE IT WORK. I am not willing to give up, I am not willing to let myself down again.

This week, my goal is to at least do the warm-up skate with the other girls. Maybe do some rec skating as well. I'm also going to make the effort to get my morning workouts in full gear. I'm sleeping too much these days, time to put in the hard yards again.

I miss the days of my personal war measures act. Getting up before the crack of dawn and heading to the Y. If I could afford it, I'd still be doing it. Sadly, being completely broke all the time is cramping that style. Instead, I have devised a workout I can do here, and add some skating into it (gradually), and I'll be working hard. I like that.

So, my beloved sideline has changed to a line in the sand. As it should be. Here's my question to anybody who still reads this (does anybody? I have no idea): What is something that you had to kick your own ass to achieve? When have you pushed yourself further than ever before? What was your line in the sand that showed the point of no return?

Think about it, and tell me everything!

XO
LB

early riser

During the work week, my alarm goes off at 4:30 a.m. It's a throwback to when I used to get up every morning and haul my ass to the Y to workout.

These days? Well, let's just say that my backup alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. And even then, whether or not I get out of bed before 6 is a daily question mark.

But not anymore. If there was one thing that was affirmed when I spent that quality time with the floor of the practice space, it was this: I'm a weakling.

Not mentally (for the most part), but physically. I need to seriously work on my strength if I plan on getting myself OFF the floor. So, tomorrow morning, when that first alarm goes off, it will be pilates time. I still have my video tapes from long ago, and my VCR still works. I need to strengthen everything, especially my core.

I'm cool with this new idea, and I'm actually looking forward to it. I always felt a million times better when I got up super early and went to the gym before work. I know this will get me back in that frame of mind. And it will ultimately help with my skating efforts.

Moving forward, all the time. Time to suck it up and get shit done.

XO
LB

starting point.

I had to start somewhere. In my case, that somewhere was the floor.

On Tuesday night, I overcame whatever internal freakout was happening, got in the car and drove to my very first newbie practice with my favourite athletic organization on the planet: The Forest City Derby Girls.

In no way was I expecting a miracle, and I sure as shit didn't work any. I got there and the girls were getting geared up and doing their warm-up skate. I filled out my paperwork, got my gear on and waited for further instruction with a dude who is also interested in being a ref.

Yes, I was nervous, I will not lie. But I was there, and I was ready to give it a shot. Finally Sufferjet called us to get into lines for a knee drop drill.

I dropped when it was my turn. The only problem was, I had no idea how to get back up. 280 lbs with a fused ankle presents a unique logistical dilemma when it comes to hoisting your fat ass off the floor. After several attempts, I received assistance from two of the girls I was finally back on my feet. Completely rattled, but not shaken.

Who fucking cares? That's the thing: NOBODY. Nobody laughed, nobody rolled their eyes, nobody dismissed me. In fact, once I was finally up, all the other girls clapped in support. Only my brain cared that it was happening, that it didn't feel good, and that my ego was temporarily down for the count.

Minutes after the fact, my brain didn't really give a shit anymore. I observed the rest of the fall drills and some stopping ones, one of the more experienced girls have me some pointers off to the side. I eventually wound up taking my skates off and watching the rest of the practice, completely satisfied with my experience of my first night.

Notice, I said "first night", strictly indicating that it will NOT be my last. I'm already thinking about next week and doing what I can in the meantime to help improve myself. This will be a long road, but it's so worth it. It's finally happening.

xo
LB

On a high note.

Today will be my last meeting. Money sucks, especially when you don't have any, so it's time to put the brakes on my official enrollment in my program of choice. It's shitty, but it's something I have to do. I don't feel super shitty about it, which is nice, mostly because I know I made the right decision in both going back and making the decision to stop for now. It looks like my final weigh-in will show a loss, so I will be ending it on a positive note.

Let it be known, though, that my efforts will not stop. I'll still do my best to keep a good head on my shoulders and get this lard ditched for good!

In other news, I'm in love with roller skating. I think about it all the time and my wednesday night skate sessions are great. I've been going for the past month and a half, and progressing every week. We also stay behind to watch the crazy skaters at the adult skate later on, those people are insane. I love just to gawk at their insane skills and fluidity.

After a couple of more weeks, I'm going to kick up my skate regime to another level with the help of the amazing Forest City gals. This is the activity I love. This is what I've been waiting to do for 6 years. I have pushed myself this far, getting past the fear of even putting wheels on my feet after what my ankle has been through, and I will push even harder until I achieve my goals.

This is a fucking EXCITING time! I love it!

XO
LB