It's been a while

Two months to the day, to be exact. I will admit, I have slowed down some. I have not been exercising as feverishly as I was. I haven't been to the gym much. I haven't been walking the trails much. I've just come to a crawl.

That said, while I have been crawling along, I have still continued to either maintain or lose weight. The plateaus last a little longer, but that's bound to happen when all I'm doing is watching my intake and not really putting much other effort into weight loss or fitness.

This morning, I weighed myself in at 44lbs under where I started in March. I have a goal to lose 50lbs in a year, and it looks like I may be on track to meet that goal a little earlier than anticipated, so what I will be doing from here on is exercising again to make that happen. Once I hit 50lbs lost, I will be 2/3rds of the way to where I want to end up, and the last part will be much easier on my mind.

I don't give myself a hard time anymore when I slip up, and I don't let one cookie ruin my day. I'm not going to put on 5 lbs from having something I really want once a week. The human body is pretty resilient that way. It's the bad habit of sitting there and mindlessly gorging on junk , or eating whatever we want every single day that does us in, and that is something I simply do not do anymore. If I want some potato chips, I weigh my portion and track it. It really is not hard once you get into that habit, just like it really isn't hard once you get into the habit of swallowing a ream of donuts in one sitting.

No thanks.

On the way down

With KJ back at work for a couple of weeks now and my will power not yet broken, I am proud to say I have been successfully working on weight loss again instead of just maintenance. For the past couple of months I have had no notable change in weight, but yesterday I weighed myself and for the first time since early 2009 I am below 220lbs.

That means that I am down 37lbs from when I started this trek toward being healthier in March. I've had a few hard days, but for the most part I have to say, I've been doing really well. All I need to do now is ramp up the exercise side of things a little more so I can feel fitter, not just lighter/thinner.

In the meantime, I will just continue to enjoy putting on clothes that fit and don't stick on to multiple lumps on my torso.

Weight Loss vs Dressing Yourself

Over the years, my weight and size have gone up and down slowly, and I always kept a collection of "fat clothes", but also an inspirational collection of items I wished to fit into again (or for the first time). On my most recent upswing in dress size, I decided to give away the inspirational clothes because they only reminded me of how fat I'd gotten and how gross I felt. Not my finest half hour, but I limbed out my closet and dresser of every offensive non-plus-sized article of clothing I owned. The inspiration had left them. They inspired me to put on PJ pants and stay home, and that was about it.

Because I got rid of all those clothes, I am currently shrinking inside of most everything I own and have nothing to wear aside from capris and a dress. I'm not complaining, but this is going to create some expensive problems in the next couple of weeks. For example, I currently have only 2 bras that fit. One of them is a hot pink racer-back sports bra. I made the mistake yesterday of wearing a push-up bra that I hadn't realized had grown too big. Pair that with the skinny jeans that fall down when I walk, bend, sit or move in general, and I felt like a train wreck. My mother loaned me a bra that was a cup side too small to cram myself into so I wasn't swimming in the empty padded cups of the now-too-large push-up.

I never expected to lose boobs...they've always been a given.
This wasn't part of the plan!

Fitting 10lbs of shit in a 5lb bag

It is beautiful today. It is sunny. It is hot. It's not windy or humid. It is literally everything summer is supposed to be. It is also 3 days before KJ returns to the ship for 4 weeks and, since we've had approximately 3 nice days since he's been home this month, we are trying to squeeze all the summery fun activity into today that we missed out on.

We got up this morning and walked the dogs to exhaustion to start out on the right foot. That way we won't feel guilty being out and about all afternoon while they're home occupying themselves. Between drives, downtown walking, and social obligations, we are going to make today count!

This post is short, and not funny (#sorrynotsorry), but it is a momentous occasion and I had to document it happened because I've been on the brink of madness with all the oppressive fog and drizzle.

It's all for me!

I don't know how many of you have a significant other who talks in his or her sleep, but it is equal parts cute and creepy. And 100% entertaining. See, I'm the type of person who falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow and, if undisturbed, stays in the same position until she wakes up.

My husband, on the other hand, has a sleep persona we have nicknamed Sleepy Jones. Sleepy Jones is a selfish jerk, where my actual wakeful spouse is a caring, generous person. Sleepy Jones can't tell the difference between time to sleep at home and time to work (like he's still on a ship). And most importantly, Sleepy Jones is a nonsensical chatterbox and wanderer, where his counterpart is so quiet most of the time, I have to call out to him to see where he is in the house.

Over the years, there have been varied hilarious encounters with Sleepy Jones. Trying to climb out our bedroom window, for example, because he thought it was time to go relieve someone on the bridge of whatever ship he was working on at the time. Or the night he was shuffling around the perimeter of our bedroom trying to find the door so he could go to the bathroom, only to end up in the closet trying to find the toilet. My least favourite, and only time I was furious enough to yell and actually strike him in the ribs to wake him up, was when I was rudely awakened by his elbow on my forehead, muttering something about a thief and pinning my skull to the mattress.

My personal favourite, however, and one that we still laugh about to this day, is the time I woke up in bed with no blankets as Sleepy Jones was stealing my pillow. It seemed that he had rolled around in bed so much, his own pillow ended up on the floor, so rather than pick it up like KJ would have done, Sleepy Jones decided mine was more convenient. As I lay there, shivering and pissed off because he was swiping my pillow out from under my head, I latched onto it, took a fistful of blankets and started rolling away from him so I could regain some comfort before my rage set in.

He pulled harder, straining against my weight on the blanket with his own; a 4 AM tug of war.

The rage haze rolled in, and I said, "Will you just let go of my fucking pillow and give me some goddamned blankets?!", to which Sleepy Jones replied (clear as day in a creepy voice), "It's all for me!"...and I laughed. Loudly. It woke KJ out of his stupor and he saw what was happening but wasn't fully sure what the situation actually was. To him, it looked like I was stealing his pillow. I recounted the story to him, he laughed and apologized, picked up his pillow off the floor, kissed me and went back to sleep. Then promptly tried to steal my blankets.

For a man who would give me anything, he sure is a greedy ass when he's asleep. But sometimes, he is super cute and ridiculously funny because this morning, in the dark comfort of our bedroom, I was browsing Facebook on my phone while he slept peacefully beside me and out of nowhere, he says "You know what I just realized Jurassic World was missing? Jeff Goldblum." Zzzz...

How can you not love that?

Thank you, Sun Lord!

This weekend's weather was just as atrocious as it has been ever since the day after KJ got home from sea. We both had given up hope to ever see the sun again, and so we comforted ourselves with food, alcohol, frozen yogurt (it may have been cold outside, but it is never too cold to go to Menchie's), and people-watching at various public locations.

"See that one? No, the other one! Nevermind, you missed it...thong outside of her pants!"

To help ourselves forget the misery that was the hideous excuse for summer we were were suffering through, we decided to have some people up for a BBQ on Saturday evening. Since it turned out to be a rain-free evening, we also managed to get a fire roaring in the back yard fire pit! Naturally, fire pits attract more alcohol (and marshmallows on sticks), so suffice it to say, I over-indulged. A lot. I'll spare the details that ended with me swinging from a tree branch and being rescued by a friend (maybe two? I'm not sure) and led safely to stairs so I could go inside, but don't think that is because I am embarrassed by them. I simply can't recall said details.

While I may not regret the things I can't remember, I certainly was regretting the amount of drinking I forgot I did when I woke up yesterday. Yesterday was what my best friend and I affectionately refer to as "Sack o' Shit Sunday", and it lived up to its name. I felt like shit. I looked like shit. Hell, for the first half of the day, I felt like throwing up and shitting simultaneously, but it never happened. Thankfully. After awhile, the sickness passed and I was left with a dull headache and a savage hunger for fish & chips/ poutine.

"Can't it be both?"

Yes, it can. And it was delicious. So after ruining my insides all weekend with fat, sugar and booze, today I started back where I left off. We got up this morning and walked the trails from here to the nearest Tim Horton's (which is 3.5 km away), and back. The hike burned 767 calories and took 1 hour and 20 minutes, give or take a few. We stopped for a gawk at a forest fire/ car fire on the way home, since we were in the forest (a safe distance away) and could see the fire trucks heading in the direction of the billowing smoke. Of course this kind of thing happened on the one time I didn't bring my phone with me to capture a couple pictures. On the plus side, everything went fine, nobody was hurt, and the fire was extinguished.

As rare as watching a fire fight is, the really exciting part was that we also got the treat of seeing the SUN come out on our walk home. And it stayed out. All day! It was calm, hot and I even got a slight sun burn from sitting on the patio since I'm an idiot and forgot sun screen.

"Forgot"...my ass.

In any event, today I feel great. I got sunshine and exercise, and consumed no alcohol and very little sugar or fat. After this past week of dietary carnage, that is a huge victory. And with camping with some of my favourite people/bad influences coming up this weekend, I need the drying-out period.

So does my liver.

Send out a search party!

No, not for me. I have been missing from blogging, that is true, but I need someone to go locate summer for me. It seems this province is in a funk this year. The temperature today (19C) is the warmest it has been in 2 weeks. A friend of mine posted something on Facebook the other day that sums it up perfectly:

Because this summer has been unseasonably cold, even for this land of fog and wind, many of us have taken to staying indoors like we do in winter. Getting people to do things is like pulling teeth. All we're asking for is some fucking heat, or a sunny day that isn't windy enough to blow your head off. Is that so much to ask?

Could be worse, I guess...

Anyhoo, the weight loss journey continues. I've been maintaining plateau status for the past 3 weeks, but this morning it finally broke. By a paltry half pound, but that's to be expected when wine enters the picture. I've been counting calories, exercising (albeit not as hard as I could be), and drinking more alcohol than I have since St. Patrick's Day. That's not a jab at the Irish. I legitimately started this whole process on St. Patrick's Day and haven't been drinking much at all, but this weather makes me want to drink until the sun comes out. Or until it kills me.

Whichever comes first.

I have the Sailor home for another 2 weeks; if, in that time, it remains cold and shitty, yet turns warm and sunny when he goes back to sea, he has vowed to find summer and kill it when he returns home again. I can't say I blame him. He was pressure-washing the house in the rain yesterday because he doesn't believe the sun exists anymore. Without sunshine, nothing makes sense.

Ah well, at least we have booze.

I am the worst!

At blogging, that is.

At this whole lifestyle and eating shift, I am kicking ass. Today, my total weight lost is 28.5 lbs. It helps that for the past 3 days, I have been smothering with a head cold that has left me unable to smell or taste anything. What's the point of eating delicious things when everything tastes like cardboard? Get in my belly, plain greek yogurt and rice cakes. Delicious.

This week is my 4 year wedding anniversary to a dirty ol' sailor. Since I married a filthy, salty sailor, it comes as no shock that he will be at sea for our anniversary (unless they end up in port for some unknown reason), so while I will be celebrating with him in my heart, we won't actually be celebrating together until he gets home next week. When you're married to a sailor, you get used to shifting special events. Christmas? Pfft...December 25th is just a guideline! REAL Christmas can happen in January! I used to wonder what the hell was wrong with people leaving up their Christmas tree so long, or putting it up so early. Now, I know.

But some people are just nuts.

Anyway, this morning I could almost taste things so I had fresh cherries and a flavoured yogurt instead of the revolting plain stuff. As much as I want to exercise, and am even dressed for it (right out of bed because I was hopeful!), I also feel like falling over because my ears are all messed up from this head cold so I get vertigo. Also breathing any harder than normal sets off a coughing fit that makes me feel like my head is going to rupture.

Coughing brings out my eyes.

Happy Monday, all. Wish me luck in shaking this plague before I pass it along.

Yeah, about that hiatus...

So, these past 6 weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. What originally started as mild discontentment with a few things snowballed into a serious discussion about moving out of province. We had our reasons for and against such a big change, and it is not off the table forever, but for now it is. Instead, we are planning to sell our home next year and move into the city so we have been doing a lot of repairs and maintenance around the house so everything is in good shape when we list next year. One of the major jobs undertaken was refinishing the stairs.

It was a lot of inconvenience, but KJ did an absolutely amazing job. He worked like a rented mule to get this done before he went back to work. My contribution was some indoor sanding and painting, where his was shit hauling the stairs down to the risers, sanding them, staining & varnishing them and re-installing them. It was intense! Despite all the hard work, and pride in the beautiful job he did, we're both still very much looking forward to moving closer to our friends, and a more reasonable distance to the coast guard base.

In other news, the exercise and weight loss journey is continuing along in the right direction. As of this morning, I have lost 22.5 lbs and am comfortably wearing regular sized clothing instead of an 18 Plus. That makes me incredibly happy. On Monday, KJ and I went to see San Andreas in IMAX 3D at the mall. Before we went into the theater, I went to a clothing store and had no idea what sizes to try on, so I tried on a bunch of different sizes. Long story short, not only was I pleased with the results, I got 3 pairs of pants and a blouse for $36 total. Hooray for sales!

Today marks the start of KJ's shift at work, so I had to drop him off at 5:30am this morning to catch a bus to Lewisporte. He made it safe and sound, and will hopefully head back towards town at some point in the trip. But till then, it's just me and the fuzz butts. I can't complain; he's been home every night for 2 months, and that is incredibly rare. Doesn't make the wait any shorter, though!

Anyway, I am back to focusing on my health and diet. That means more recipes, more exercise, and more blogging about all the bullshit I'm going through!

I know, I'm excited about it, too.

Hiatus ended

Hey guys.

Yep, still alive. Just took a hiatus from writing. I was having a moody week last week, and while I was still trying to eat well and exercise, I simply was not doing anything worth talking about. Bitching and moaning over not having the car because KJ was working, or feeling like punting people due to PMS? Waahhh... cry me a river, right? So, I took a break from writing about life because I don't enjoy writing about life when life feels that petty and mundane to me.

In any event, today was a great day. We're in the midst of a closet renovation. Our clothes are everywhere, and our bedroom looks like a bomb went off. Instead of sitting around in this mess waiting for plaster to dry, we went out for breakfast this morning, and then we took the dogs for a 6 km walk through the woods on a trail nearby. An hour and 9 minutes from start to finish, we were home. I had burned 620 calories, and the dogs were exhausted.

Tonight for dinner, we made a vegetarian eggplant lasagna (that's using slices of eggplant instead of noodles), and a Caesar salad and it was frigging delicious! I highly recommend trying it if you have a gluten allergy. I didn't realize I was sensitive to gluten (or something in breads and pastas) until I had bread after 4 weeks without. My guts were in agony! Then again, maybe it was all the pulled pork... who knows? I am queen of the pork fart, after all.

Miss me?

Impressive, and gross.

I have been having great success this week. As of this morning, I am down 16.4 lbs from my starting weight, and I can see a difference in my face and midsection. I haven't been exercising at the gym as much because of the car situation due KJ's work schedule. I honestly hate going at night. I am a morning person. I like to get up and get moving. Putting it off until 8 PM is rough. I only have enough energy in me to eek out 30 minutes of cardio, and then I am done.

Because of my personal preferences in exercise, I have been diligent with food and it's really helping. I haven't gone over 1400 calories since Saturday, and they've all been good calories. No junk, no eating out of boredom, and when I do feel like eating, I make smart choices.

One of the things I have been curious about since the fat's been going away is what exactly the amount of fat actually looks like. One pound of fat looks is about the size of a coffee cup, for example.

Gross, right? At 16 lbs lost, I wanted to know what that looked like in a lump. Since I am proportionate in my weight loss and gain, I can't fathom just how much fat I have lost because I lose all over, not just somewhere like my gut. Thanks, Google, for finding it for me:

What a beautiful curio cabinet display...

THAT. IS. DISGUSTING...
I am glad it's gone. I'll be glad to get to 20 lbs gone, and happier still when I get to the goal I'm striving for. One pound at a time.

Knitting, Sitting & Shit Ankle

The ol' shit ankle is flaring up again. I don't remember what I initially did to it, but two years ago I was walking and rolled my ankle on the edge of the pavement, causing a huge flare in the original injury and was hobbling around for several weeks, icing it and keeping it elevated. Last week, while walking Bisou, I had to defend her against a roaming Husky who was trying to make her its bitch. When I pivoted on my left foot to scare away the offending roamer (it worked, by the way), doing so must have aggravated the Shit Ankle Gods, because it's been going out on me at random ever since.

Last night when KJ got home from work, we went to the gym and I got on one of the elliptical machines. Ol' Shitty was yelling at me on every downward step on the left foot, so I had to give it up and go for the bike instead. I guess it's just as well. Change in the gym routine is good, I'm told, but I prefer ellipticals to bikes. I also prefer morning exercise to 8 PM exercise, so an 8 PM bike ride was blaaahhh.

Pain is not helpful, you guinea pig asshole.

In dog news, Tipper is on a diet of white rice and boiled chicken as of yesterday morning, and she seems to be enjoying it. Her butt has ceased falling out as of Saturday night, thankfully, and she's feeling much better (as I type this, she is quietly woofing and rumble-growling at a pedestrian walking a dog up my street). I was pretty concerned and horrified all day Saturday, but she's back to normal.

So, Shit-Ankle Sunday resulted in a lot of quality time with my couch and knitting needles. I finished this right-hand mitten this morning, having worked my way to the thumb yesterday.It still needs to be felted (ie: boiled and rubbed furiously). Working with double-pointed needles is not always my favourite thing to do, but if you ever decide to try it out, I highly recommend Caspian from Knit Picks. They are not only pretty, but they have excellent points and are lightweight and don't fall out of your work like the nickel plated ones do.

Pre-felting.

Compared to a finished, felted mitt.

Now to enjoy a cup of coffee, start the left mitt and try not to fall asleep because I woke up too early this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. 

FML

Well, today has been one of those days where I am sad I own a big dog. Don't get me wrong; I love my dogs. But today, out of the blue, Tipper's colon decided to become the bane of my existence. It's like she found a Poo Salad of her own. It was a disaster of epic proportions because, naturally, she has no sense and likes to walk through the land mines she's launching. I've wiped her ass (and washed her goddamned hairy feet) more today than I've wiped anyone else's ass (and feet) before in my life.

Stuff like this makes me 100% certain I should not have kids.

I called the vet since there was blood present in the catastrophe, and naturally the vet's office is closed on Saturday. Luckily, the vet on call was super friendly and sensible, deterring me from coming in for Emergency service for the runs because it's really common.

"Just withhold her food today, supply her with lots of water, and tomorrow feed her some cooked rice and chicken breast, and save yourself $350 in emergency fees. If it worsens, call me back and bring her in."

Deal. And thankfully, it has not worsened. It's practically stopped as of an hour ago, so fingers crossed she's all better. She's back on duty, jumping up every time I cough because I'm sure she thinks I'm choking to death. Guess she knows CPR or the Heimlich...or just doesn't want to miss the show. Either way, she's her normal self. Let's hope it stays that way.

Or else.

In addition to all the terrible things I have seen and smelled at home today, I also saw and smelled some terrible things at the gym! See, I got up at 6 AM and drove the Cap'n to work so I could go to the gym. At 6:45 AM. On a Saturday. Let me tell you, in case you've never seen it first hand, the people in the gym at that hour on the weekends look and smell like they ought to be buried.

Or like they'd recently escaped the first attempt at burial.

What I'm trying to say is the gym was full of some very, very old people this morning. Kudos to them for getting up early and working out. I know people half the age of some of those guys who can't walk the length of themselves without panting, let alone wake up at the crack of dawn with intent to exercise. What is not cool, however, is the amount of farting that happens when the gym is full of old folks. So. Much. Farting! It was almost impressive, once my eyes stopped watering. I was afraid I'd end up with pink eye. There were more farts in the air than there was oxygen. When the exercise machines say you should stop use if you become short of breath, dizzy or feel faint, I don't think that scenario was what they had in mind.

Maybe I'll pin this up next time...

I think I'll stick with my usual gym schedule from now on. The oxygen saturation is better in the late morning/early afternoon.

Free Shoes & Fat Loss

Today is starting out as a good one! I stepped on the scale today after 2 weeks of disappointment and irregularity to find that the number has dropped. Finally! In addition to the weight loss I've been waiting on, I remembered this morning that I still had 2 credits on JustFab from earlier this year. That translates into $88 worth of shoes for $20, shipping included. It's a good thing we're planning on a shoe rack for the closet renovation next month...

I may have a problem.

Tonight, we're heading out to a customer appreciation party for my friend's realty company (even though we're not customers), and since KJ has the car I can't get to the gym so I will have to get creative with the exercise. I could walk outdoors, but it's back to being ass-chillingly cold again these past 2 days. I hate going for walks when it's cold outside. Yesterday, it was windy as hell and snowing off and on all day!

On the diet front, I have been doing pretty great. It's interesting what you can learn when you actually read the labels on food and do a little research. For instance, the bagged sweet kale salad from Costco is surprisingly high in calories and sugar. The bag says a single serving is 1 cup, which (for a salad made of broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cabbages and kale) is really not much. So why in the hell is it 140 calories per serving? Turns out it's the frigging dried cranberries. I assumed that dried cranberries were just cranberries, but no sir. They're dried, sweetened cranberries. I was eating this salad several times a week, and it was packed with sugar. Not anymore! I've been picking out the majority of the cranberries, leaving only 8-10 pieces per 2 cups of salad.

I'm also exercising epic will power... the following treats have been laying around my house for weeks now, and are still unopened. Anyone interested? Free for the taking.

You can't get me!

Happy Friday, folks. Hopefully yours is as good as mine!

• Starting weight: 255.6 lbs
• Today's weight: 242.8 lbs
• = 12.7 lbs lost

Losing track of days

One of the weirdest things about not having a hard schedule due to a job is never really being sure of what day of the week it is. Is it Monday? Feels like a Friday. It's Wednesday, and I know this because it was crew change day for KJ, but I woke up this morning thinking it was Saturday. I still don't know what day of the diet I'm on...

Seriously, does anyone know?

Counting forward from the appropriate blog post, it appears to be Day 7 of Cycle 2, but we have been cheating in the evenings. Bad cheating. Cheesecake cheating. One of our friends brought a strawberry cheesecake to the potluck on Saturday and so we were left with the remains in our fridge. What am I supposed to do? Not eat it? I'm not a superhero. So we ate some. A couple times. Naturally, KJ continued to lose weight while my weight stood still. It's hard not to get frustrated with his fucking metabolism. I'm kind of glad he's back on a ship-food diet for the next 4 weeks so I can focus on feeding myself and he can snack on whatever he wants without me having to see or smell it.

"Crunch those chips just ONE. MORE. TIME!"

I started today feeding myself bran flakes and almond milk, and then I opened the fridge and threw half a cheesecake in the garbage. I feel like a terrible person for that, but my gut flab will thank me when it dies an honorable death. In addition to a sensible breakfast, fruit, vegetables for lunch, and leftover spaghetti squash in meat sauce for supper, I took advantage of the beautiful sunshine and warm temperature today and went for a walk and burned off 300 calories. I also had a great day where my stomach was concerned. My useless, lazy, irritable insides finally did their job without a toxic salad, stimulants, or a fire hose to help them out. Praise baby Jebus! Friday is weigh-in day, so with any luck I'll see some results in that accursed number.

And if not, I'll run over the scale with my car.

Slacker

I have been slacking on the blogging this weekend, and I apologize to my 2 die-hard fans. This weekend has been a busy one with all the eating, and hosting, and eating some more. Yeah, there's been exercising as well, but it's been mostly to negate the eating that was done.

Friday we painted our bedroom and went to the gym. Because of the painting, I decided in advance that I did not want to cook so it didn't take much persuading to get my darling husband to agree that Chinese food was a great option. After we ate, we came home and put a second coat of paint on the room and realized it would need a third coat. Since we didn't have enough paint for a third coat, we put the room back together and decided to renovate the closet later this month, and with the paint we'll inevitably need for that job, we'd put another coat on the bedroom. Honestly, as happy as a full closet revamp will make me, I'd be happy to have anything other than a bare light bulb in there like it has now!

Saturday, we had friends over for a potluck and a game of poker. It was a great night with lot of laughs, but again with lots of food. That is why on Sunday, we had a leaner day with some more exercise. Nothing overly exciting has happened, aside from shopping for closet storage solutions and groceries.

Tomorrow, Captain KJ returns to work. Luckily for us, the ship is due for repairs so he's on day work and will be coming home at night. This affords me days full of being attentive to my diet (and him eating aboard the ship), walking outdoors (fingers crossed), and going to the gym at night instead of in the day like we have been. If I feel like going earlier in the day, I'll have to get up at 6 AM and drive him to work like I was doing 4 weeks ago when I started this trend, and I may very well do that. I find I get better results from my gym time if I go first thing in the morning.

Makes sense to me!

Cauliflower Pizza Crust is Surprisingly Delicious

Day 1 of cycle 2 started with sleeping in, eating oatmeal for the first time in 17 days, and watching Law & Order: SVU while I ate it. Once that was over, KJ and I went to the grocery store to buy ingredients for pizza, and then the gym and worked ourselves into puddles, in preparation for pizza-eating later.

Mmm...pizza...

Since my friend Kris was interested in this next part of my day, this one's for her. Our twist on making pizza tonight involved using a head of minced cauliflower, grated Swiss cheese, 2 eggs and seasonings (garlic, basil, oregano, salt & pepper) to make the crust. It smelled delicious, and it looked awesome. For anyone who who is trying to cut down on bread/carbs, I highly recommend using this recipe for your own home made pizza crust or garlic fingers. We doubled up the recipe and made a pizza the size of a cookie sheet because we were both famished and hadn't had lunch. Plus, it's cauliflower!

Food processor: 1
Cauliflower: 0

For our toppings, I used 1/2 a cup of standard store-bought pizza sauce, taco-seasoned ground turkey (leftover from our lettuce tacos), sliced white mushrooms, lean ham, 1 cup of mozzarella, Butterball turkey pepperoni, sweet orange pepper and red onion.

Sooooon...

At this point, the crust had been in the oven on 450F for 20 minutes to crisp up and solidify, and then was taken out to cool before being dressed up for round 2 of baking. I reset the oven to 350F and baked the pizza for 20 more minutes, then finished it off under the broiler for a couple minutes, and voila!

Who would have thought that cauliflower would make a crust that tastes so delicious? And with a food processor doing all the mincing, it was easy! Much simpler, faster and cleaner than making a flour crust. No waiting for it to rise, etc. Just bake, cool, top with pizza stuff, bake, eat.

Of course, eating goes straight to my ass...

Tomorrow's plan is to paint our bedroom with paint we've had so long, we had to take it back to the paint store to be re-shaken. Fingers crossed that today's weight training doesn't make me so sore or weak tomorrow that my arms fall off after doing all the edge work. Either way, it's getting painted. I crave change!

And chicken nuggets...but I'll settle for change.

Day 17: The Chronicles of an IBS Dieter

**Warning: Incoming toilet humour. You may experience uncontrollable laughter & shitting.**

It's not too late to turn back. I promise you, the recount of today's events are all things that have happened to all of you, but not all of you would be willing to talk about it, and that's perfectly acceptable. I'll judge you for your silence, and you judge me for not giving even half a fuck.

For anyone unfamiliar with IBS, feel free to go here (no gross pictures, I promise). I was blessed with an irate bowel from an early age, and while I have tried many things with varying success rates for normality, they're fleeting and things flare up dramatically for no apparent reason. One day, cheese is great. The next day, cheese is a razor blade cutting my inside to shreds (or so it feels). And it's not just dairy that does it, for those of you who are thinking "Maybe she's just lactose intolerant." like I never thought of that, either. After removing and re-adding pretty much everything from bread to red meat in my diet over the last few years, I have decided that the mere fact of being alive causes my guts to lose their shit. Pun intended.

So it comes as little surprise to me that The 17 Day Diet's "Activate" cycle (aka: Cycle 1) has caused wild mood swings in my schizophrenic digestive tract. The low fat/high fiber concentration makes for a hell of a time. Today is Wednesday, and before today I hadn't done a goddamned thing since Saturday. SATURDAY, people. Now, for those people who have no idea what that's like, go swallow rocks and glue, then wash it down with Quikrete, and see how that feels meandering through the hallways of your guts for a couple days. By day 3, you'd drink used french fry oil if you thought it would get the job done.

So, today being day 4 in the nightmare that is my life with this stupidly unpredictable affliction, I ate things that were as good as a grenade. I ate what I affectionately call a "Poo Salad" (a small Cobb salad from Dominion which inexplicably melts my insides...kind of scary when you think about it. What the fuck is in that salad?!). I ate prunes. I had coffee. I drank a gallon of water.

I should have stopped at the salad.

On our way to the recycling depot with bottles, my stomach made this horrible sound (like a 'ffflaaa-rarara-wshhhh'), then it was as if someone had opened a cage in a zoo because I went from feeling nothing to the familiar feeling of a monkey wielding a steak knife in each of his little fists trying to stab his way out of my abdomen in any direction he could stab. KJ knows the signs well, because as he was driving, I am clutching my gut with one hand, making a fist and pounding myself in the thigh with the other, saying, "I shouldn't have come. I should have stayed home...awww fuck fuck fuck, I'm going to fucking die..."

Like a good husband, he says, "Is this just pain, or is this a required stop? Dominion has a public bathroom!" (funny he should suggest it should end at Dominion, home of the Poo Salad)

I would like to go on record as having said, "I hate public bathrooms." I do. I hate them. I would rather white-knuckle drive back to my own house. I was tempted to veer toward Allison's house and pound on her door until she opened it so I could storm past her and apologize later. ANYTHING but a public toilet. So when KJ mentioned a public bathroom to me and I said, "Yes, that is an excellent idea!", he knew I was serious because it was the first time I had ever accepted his sensible public toilet solution in our entire time together.

As we pull into the parking lot, I ramble non-sensical things. Probably things about Jesus and cursing my colon to burn in hell. The car slows as KJ asks, "Do you want me to park the car and come in?" as I undo my seat belt with one hand and open the car door as we're still rolling.

"I don't care what you do!", I say as I run away from the still-moving car. I can't even say if there were other cars nearby, or if I nearly got flattened by them. I was sweating, white faced, white knuckled, holding my breath as I sprinted past the geriatrics loitering in the entrance to the grocery store, and as I get inside I realize... I have no idea where the toilets are. I don't use these fucking toilets! I avoid them like the plague! So what do I do? I put my game face on, wipe the sweat from my brow and politely ask the pretty young deli clerk, "Excuse me, where are the public bathrooms?" Smooth as fuck, right?

"Oh, they're upstairs and down the hallway."

FUCK. MY. LIFE.

Forget the geriatrics in the entrance, the fuckers on the stairs are moving as slowly as evolution as I dodge past them, taking two steps at a time. These stairs lead to a gym! Shouldn't you bastards be a little more spry?! This is a fucking nightmare! If there is anyone in that bathroom, they are going to wish they were ANYWHERE else. Hell, I wish I was anywhere else! And then, as if it were meant to be, the bathroom was empty of people and stocked on toilet paper. Best. Day. Ever. (I kid. In no way was today the best anything.)

IBS is fucking terrible. Sure, it may not kill me, but it certainly makes many aspects of trying to eat healthy very difficult. Low fat is great until it isn't. I am so happy tomorrow is Day 1 of Cycle 2. Maybe the reintroduction of good carbs will balance my insides.

Or maybe I'll actually shit my pants.
Who knows.

Lettuce taco 'bout delicious!

Tonight's dinner was spicy pork tacos but, instead of taco shells, we used Boston lettuce leaves to be our wrappers. I've seen it done, but tonight was the first time I've done it myself. I have to say, it was frigging delicious. For anyone interested in the recipe, it's here, with the notable difference of my having used ground pork because Costco was out of ground turkey today.

They were also out of asparagus, broccoli, and strawberries. Yep, that means I was not only at Costco today, but that I have to go back... fuuuuuck!! My nightmares consist of being stuck in Costco with people parking their carts in my way to chat while their children run around like lunatics.

The silver lining to tomorrow's Costco plan is a breakfast date and a trip to the gym. I wasn't feeling so great today when we went, and I hadn't eaten much. I feel much better tonight, so I hope to have a solid workout tomorrow to make up for the wimpy, sleepy 45 minute/400 calorie burning workout I schlepped through this afternoon.

"Hey, at least I'm at the gym..."

Slow news days

These last couple days have been pretty mundane. No funny gym people, no funny friend stories, no movement on the scale. Easter Sunday was rest day, and paired with a turkey dinner at my parents's house, that meant overindulgence and little exercise.

I think I have found balance though. I paid attention to what I ate all day before heading to dinner, and even with a piece of my sister-in-law's chocolate cake, a glass of wine, and 3 pieces of hollow milk chocolate, I was under 1800 calories for the day.

Yesterday, I made Eggplant Rollatini for dinner. Normally, I would have a photo of the meal in question, but yesterday evening I was grappling with a migraine, so KJ plated dinner and I didn't like how it looked (sorry, love!), so I didn't take a picture. The recipe calls for fresh parsley, but I used dry basil instead, and it was really delicious. If you're not a fan of eggplant, I honestly think this recipe would change your mind. It is like pasta-free lasagna. Who doesn't like lasagna?

Thankfully, last night's migraine is all gone. Good thing, too. It's sunny outside, and I would hate to have to block that miracle out of my house to keep my head from bursting. I'm convinced Spring is a lie. April showers come in the form of blinding snow squalls around here, and I am tired of it. I want to go for a walk outside without requiring layers of sweaters and coats. Even today, it's sunny and freezing outside.

Can we go back to Mexico? Please?

Bad Catholic, meet Good Friday

For those of you who didn't know, I was raised a Roman Catholic. For those of you who know me better, it will come as no surprise that I am a terrible Catholic. Yesterday was Good Friday, and I genuinely forgot that fact until I mentioned to KJ that I wanted to look at hiking boots at Mark's Work Wearhouse before going to the gym. Since the store was directly across the street from the gym, we pulled into the parking lot and only then noticed it empty, and there were bars on the doors of the whole shopping plaza. I am such a bad Catholic, I honestly thought "Did they have a fire or something?" before thinking "religious holiday".

All my friends will be there, at least.

After the gym and religious memory lapse, we came home to get ready for dinner. I don't know what I touched, or ate, or looked at, but somehow I managed to get a big, itchy hive under my right eye. Benedryl took care of the itching and swelling, but halfway through dinner I was nearly comatose. Worst dinner companion ever!

For dinner, we went out for Chinese food with a couple of friends, Suki & Amy. Because all of us are whiter than rice in this group of friends (Amy included), and Suki is super tanned despite the fog (or our token brown friend, as it were), he makes jokes about it, and so do we. He's easily one of the funniest people I know, so dinner with he and Amy is always a laugh...even if you're nearly falling asleep on your dumplings. Dinner was great, but the real laughs came at dessert time.

All four of us finished our meals with the traditional stale cookie and ice cream dessert. And when I say stale, I mean these cookies are like flint. Suki and I put our moon-rock cookies in the bottom of our bowls and put the ice cream on top, hoping the melting ice cream would soften the concrete cookies. Amy and KJ had their cookies jammed into their ice cream like the Sword in the Stone. Our hopes of softening the cookies were fruitless and, while Suki was comparing himself to a miner using his spoon like a mining pick, Amy started laughing at me. It was then that I realized I had my 'concentration face' on as I chiseled through the meteor under my ice cream.

"Why am I eating this?"

With that, I started laughing at her laughing at me. We all started laughing uncontrollably because of these abysmal cookies. All of us ate them, all of us hated the tooth-breaking nature of them, and all of us thought it was hysterical that we were getting a workout just trying to eat the damned things. 

We all ended the evening on our couches watching serial killers turn people into hats and fertilizer (Criminal Minds marathons are best watched with a group of friends high on Chinese buffet), groaning like bloated walruses.

Today is a new day, and the salmon we plan to have for supper tonight will hopefully make up for the suffering of yesterday, but I won't hold my breath.

Mug Cakes and Lazy Assholes.

So after the "cake" disaster of a couple nights ago, I decided to try to redeem myself with a mug cake recipe that called for more ingredients. You know, ones that would normally be included in a real cake. The one I used tonight was the 5-Minute Chocolate Mug Cake, and it's true to its name. It took 5 minutes, and it actually tasted like chocolate (unlike its predecessor).

I wish I could have gotten a picture of it while it was cooking in the microwave (or of KJ's reaction to it erupting), but the inside of the door started steaming up just as the batter ballooned to an impressive height beyond the lip of the mug. Naturally, as soon as I opened the door it began to deflate like it had a slow air leak. I did have the foresight this time to take a picture of it before we jabbed a spoon into it, though!

Underwhelming at this height.

It isn't much to look at, but I have to say, KJ and I both liked it. I used actual sugar instead of Splenda (only 2 tsp), and white chocolate chips because that was all I had on hand. Aside from the settling of the chocolate chips to the bottom before cooking resulting in spelunking for sweetness, I have no complaints about this recipe. I didn't even have to coerce the truth out of my lovingly gluttonous husband this time. He ate it because he enjoyed it, without the benefit of ice cream! It was surprisingly moist, so it didn't even make me wish for ice cream...unlike the mug cake of sadness past.

Before the cake experiment, though, I decided to make something for dinner that I haven't made in years: Chicken Cordon Bleu. I don't know which of us was more excited by the idea of melted Swiss cheese leaking out of a prosciutto-stuffed chicken breast, but I do know each of us devoured it.

No photo will ever make this meal look good. Ever.

In addition to eating today, we did go to the gym. Apparently Thursday is "Take Your Kid to Gym" day. I remember when I was a kid, we were told to go outside and play, or go downstairs and play. Basically, get the hell out of the way of whatever my mother was doing, and play. Wasn't playing exercise? When the fuck did it become a thing to pay hundreds of dollars for a gym membership for your lazy children? I swear, there was a kid there no older than 13 who had a personal trainer coaching him through exercises he clearly had zero interest in doing. He sat on a recumbent bike for 5 minutes while he was supposed to be 'warming up', picking his cuticles and drinking VitaWater, or whatever that flavoured garbage water is called.

What. The. Fuck? 

I am a fat adult who wants to get healthy and active, and I won't get a trainer for myself! The things parents do boggle my goddamned mind. Is it really that hard to go for a walk with your own chubby kid if you think he's chubby and needs a walk? Walking is free! Quit buying your kid flavoured water and dropping him off with a very expensive stranger he doesn't appreciate, and go do something with him. I bet he'd appreciate that more when he's older (and is not a lazy asshole like his mom/dad).

I really think I should rename this blog "What the Fuck?" or "I Hate People".

Or "My Budding Pill Addiction" (joking, of course. I'm way more into needle drugs).

**Disclaimer: If you are concerned about my mental health or the possibility of a budding drug addiction, please click this link, and realize you don't know me at all.**

Gym People

It's not news to anyone who knows myself and KJ that we enjoy people watching when we go out. We routinely go on coffee dates to Tim Horton's just for the people watching experience. Sometimes it's fantastic in it's awfulness. Other times it's just plain awful.

Watching people at the gym is not much different than at Tim Horton's; the people are sweating, talking too loud, farting and pretending they didn't. The major difference is in the type of clothes people wear in each location. Fewer people at Tim's have their asses hanging out of booty shorts, and fewer people at the gym are wearing their pajamas. Both outfits are hideous, though, so it all evens out.

My personal favourites are the old men who wear things they've clearly owned since 1973. One man I saw yesterday was on a treadmill wearing wool socks, sandals, sweatpants (that came mid-calf and dangled like a tube sock with the elastic cut off), and a red T-shirt that was threadbare in the nipple area. How does that happen?

The people there today were dressed decently enough, but two women in the locker room this afternoon were having an very personal conversation about recently deceased family members as loudly as humanly possible. I know I am not a quiet person, but if I can hear you talking about your mother's heart attack over the music coming through my ear buds, dial it back.

"AND THEN WE HAD TO CALL THE AMBULANCE!"

Aside from that, today was great! Good workout, good food, and good results on the scale. As of this morning, the plateau is over and I am down 12 lbs.

Woot woot!

Mug Brownie Abortion

After tracking our calories today, I realized both KJ and I were under our allowable intake. Knowing how much he likes his cake-like carbs, I mentioned the idea of making single serving dessert. Many of them called for ingredients I didn't have immediately on hand, so I opted for one with the fewest ingredients I could find on SparkRecipes and the winner was the Single-Serving Mug Brownie.

Eat. Me.

I made two, since the recipe said it was 225 calories with sugar included, and I planned to use Stevia in its place. Let me save you the depressing outcome from that mistake and tell you "Just don't do it." I wish I had the foresight to have taken a photo of the resulting brownie before I tried eating it, but I did not. I do have a photo of the part that went in the garbage, though.

If I die of a bowel obstruction, this was the cause.

My husband is a wonderfully supportive man, and as I was choking this lump of brown sludge down but not yet complaining about it, I asked him how his was (since his had the advantage of a scoop of ice cream), and he said "It's not as sweet as I would expect something chocolatey to be, but it's not bad."

Not bad?! It tasted like the devil's asshole, and was probably 4x as chewy.

A moment after I said, "Nope, not worth the calories!", and laid down my Mug of Sadness, he said, "Yeah... I'm glad I had ice cream." 

Next time, we're taking his suggestion and going to Tim Horton's for a Timbit. 

Plateaus suck, and other rants.

Welcome to Rest Day. I am enjoying this day of doing nothing for a change. I didn't start the day with rest in mind, but KJ's up to his eyes in tax forms, and I am not going to complain. Not about resting, anyway. But about weight loss and the lack thereof? Absolutely.

Maybe I just need to poop?

It feels like I have been working my ass off, literally. Much attention is being paid to what I eat and how many calories I burn. I am tracking everything on SparkPeople and enjoying being in control. But, in spite of all of this, I have hit a plateau. I have been sitting at 10.4 lbs lost for a few days, and while I am frustrated by this, I am not discouraged (yet). I found this to be a helpful bit of advice.

In spite of this, and the science behind it, I am frustrated by the way the weight is melting off of my darling husband. We're eating the same things, exercising the same amount and even though I started 2 weeks before he did, losing the same weight. Actually, he's probably losing it faster. I understand his basal metabolic rate (BMR) is higher than mine, and that him eating the same amount as me would equal him burning more than me. But that doesn't mean I have to be pleased by the difference in our results, damn it!

Maybe I can make his dinner with butter and bacon tonight? 

Mwaaahahahahaha!!

Like he'd complain...

Anyway, I'm feeling great and have noticed I am not huffing and puffing like I'm about to drop dead after 20 minutes on the elliptical any more. While the weigh scale isn't reflecting this, my stretch jeans falling down when I walk reflect it well enough, so I'll consider that this week's victory.