Does it even matter now?

There are a lot of "good intentions" on the internet these days.
People vomiting their opinions into forums and blogs and articles and comments.
The majority of the time I would say there are genuine good intentions backing most of what people are trying to say. Accompanied with a healthy dose of vanity and narcissism, of course. I mean, who of us doesn't get overly attached to checking our notifications/pageviews when we post something? Of course we want to be validated for exposing a piece of our very souls. There's a lot of vulnerability in the internet.
At least I know I feel that way.

Are you ever reading through something, perhaps shared in your Facebook news feed, that you didn't necessarily jump at the chance to read but rather figured, "why not?"
Does that "why not?" chance ever take you by surprise and ignite a lightbulb in your mind?
I suppose that's what we all, as internet contributors, strive to achieve. That spark of realization in others through words of our own making.
I was just reading through buzzfeed's "Why We Need To Stop Talking About What Women Are Eating" (which is an ironic title in the fact that I haven't reached the 'why' yet and I'm over halfway through the article but all they've talked about so far is women's experiences with food...) and suddenly realized that maybe I had an eating disorder.
A small one, but an unhealthy attitude towards food all the same.
My mom is one of the greatest cooks I've ever known, she's the type that can take a random selection of junk from the fridge and/or pantry and turn it into something more-than-halfway decent, so good meals were never in shortage during my growing up years.
In fact, it was a problem. How good her food was (and is). I often would eat seconds, even thirds, of her delicious meals and lick the plate clean. I can't say I was ever even in danger of being obese, but I definitely was chunkalicious. Although at the time it felt like more. It's only now in my mid-twenties that I even realize how far from "disgusting" and "flabby" I really was.
But it doesn't matter now.
Then, with the cheerleaders in all their voluminous blonde, voluptuous curves and tiny waist glory, I was the freckled walrus shoving unironically-retro glasses up my too-large-for-my-face nose.
With my sporty friends (really, acquaintances, I was too shy for actual friend-making) pumping out their mile runs in P.E. at a seven minute average and me puffing around the school field, contemplating sneaking across the street to die in the neighbor's bushes, I felt worthless.
With the witty bullies, using harsh teases to elicit a response and me hardly being able to form the right words to order what I actually wanted for lunch in the cafeteria without being reduced to gasping for air and wishing to hide in the garbage bins, I felt totally alone.
And even more ironically, none of this is at all their fault.
It was all in my head.
But what does it matter now?
My head was the only place I knew.
If only I could wear the clothes they wear.
If only I could say the things they say.
They seem so happy, they know what's up, I should do what they do.
Sometime in middle school/junior high, I simply decided I wanted to get skinny. I was tired of feeling tubby and I wanted to be happy. The obvious choice was to control what I put into my mouth.
I simply started skipping breakfast.
For a while my mom would attempt to shove waffles and toast and pancakes into my hands before I ran off to catch the bus. She moved on to fruit eventually, bananas or apples, but I remained consistent.
I would not eat before going to school.
It felt good to be so determined. I felt like I was doing a good thing.
When I could feel the gnawing in my stomach, that was the sign that I made the right choice.
This was working.
I could "feel" it working.

This ideology seems horrific now.
Unsurprisingly, I was unable to circumvent my naturally biology and even at my skinniest (and still healthy weight range) I was never "model" material.
For a long time, even my parents praised me for maintaining such a "slim figure". I do not wish to criticize them for that fact, my parents are seriously wonderful people, I wasn't engaging in actually physically harming myself.
Only mentally.
Only psychologically.
It never went so far that I went for days feeling hungry. I thoroughly enjoyed lunch at school. I didn't survive on cheese cubes and celery. I never engaged in anything that would classify me as anorexic or bulimic.
But my sense of self-image was still severely warped.
I denied myself food when I needed it because I liked feeling hungry. Being hungry was my accomplishment.
"If I'm hungry and don't eat, I'm getting skinnier."
Not only is that scientifically false, it's also degrading and entirely the wrong focus a young girl/boy in school (or not in school!) should have.
The thing I felt best about, was my ability to skip breakfast.
My ability to keep myself hungry.
I guess what I'm saying is that disorders and negative thoughts are sneaky. Nobody would speak up for me because, in all honesty, everything I was doing looked fine. I ate good sized, regular meals (in the lunch and dinner category, at least) and just skipped seconds. I never dipped into the "underweight" range of my height and age. All the facts said I was okay. But my motivation and psychological well-being were the culprits.

And literally just mere weeks ago I thought longingly about the days when I could force myself to wait until I felt hungry, wait until that gnawing in my stomach began, and I (pun alert) hungered for that feeling again. I wished I could be that way again.
Reading that buzzfeed article I had a lightbulb moment.
That isn't good.
That isn't healthy.
Do not misunderstand me, feeling hungry is not a bad thing. Reader's Digest has said that fasting for one day a month is good for our metabolism (LDS peeps, ahead of the curve, amiright?). I do believe that using your body's natural cycle of hunger is a good way to monitor weight and general health.
Using that feeling to view yourself as a better person, however, is cheap and entirely too shallow when considering the great capacity and potential we as humans contain.
Hunger should not be an emotional/psychological crutch.

As any regular reader may have surmised, I still struggle to find the healthy balance in my lifestyle. I love food and I genuinely enjoy eating, but my mood and general happiness reaches optimum levels when I'm eating healthily.
Weight is an incredibly personal battle. The range of body types and our own individual reception of our respective body types coincide in a way that makes it impossible to dictate a look that is "correct".
It's not only unfortunate that body-shaming exists, but also that shaming of inward body-shaming exists.
A skinny girl says, "ugh I'm so fat today," and her less-than-skinny friend stews in fury for such an insensitive comment.
I feel guilt blogging about my weight struggles because outwardly, I appear very average. My middle is a little rounder than is "pleasing" and my arms jiggle and my double chins make regular appearances. But I am by no means "FAT".
I am expected to be completely happy with my body because it is not in it's worst possible state.
The skinny girl posting her tasty summer treat on social media is automatically written off as attention seeking because she couldn't possibly be the type that enjoys sugar. Look at her hot-bod! (see the bizarre and distasteful instagram YouDidNotEatThat)
And on the other hand, the deliciously roly-poly girl snarfing on a hotdog most assuredly must be emotional-eating or drowning her obvious sorrows because who could possibly be okay with that body?

Ultimately, what their body shape needs to be depends entirely on the individual living in said body.
Loving that body also depends entirely on them.
Mothers rarely get the shape they want out of their bodies. Yet what is more beautiful than the vessel that literally created life?
There are so many factors in play. Hormones, genetics, circumstances, abilities, even hobbies.
I mean, I'm a pianist (and harpist), I'm a pathological bookworm, and I really love to nap. My hobbies do not include getting up at four in the morning to "pound the pavement" and work up a good sweat. I have to really strive to motivate myself to exercise, and that's always going to be my struggle.
We all have our inward battles, regardless of what our outside looks like, and we all have to fight them. Continuously. I just wish we all could be better at being supportive of each others' struggles.
This isn't a competition.
I shouldn't need to "one-up" your insecurities.

I can't even end this post with a peppy suggestion or sage piece of advice on how to feel good about your body because that would go against everything I've been trying to bring across.
I can't tell you how to feel about your body.
I can only tell you that you're beautiful. However you choose to be, you're beautiful.

You do you.
If you're proud of yourself for getting off the couch, ditching the bag of potato chips, and joining a gym, you instagram the crap out of that. Don't worry about "humble-bragging". Brag about yourself! Feel the accomplishment!
If you feel ugly and tubby when you're bloating, you moan to your girlfriend about it and console yourself with a candy bar. And when that candy bar crops up in your thighs you grab a handful of cellulite and tell yourself it's going to be okay. That chunk of calories doesn't determine your worth.
Your choices do.
Go on a juice cleanse, try out that fad diet, go running, watch Netflix all day long, spoon an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's into your gaping foodhole all by yourself (way to go champ) and do it proudly.
Do it because you chose to.
Don't rely on it to determine your worth.

You are worth much. And it doesn't matter your size.

I'm haven't said anything new here. There are plenty of people who've said the exact same things, and probably said them better. But maybe if enough of us keep saying it, someone who needs to may start believing it.

#ThrowbackThursday Oopsie

Author's Note: Kay, literally, I've edited this stupid post three separate times now. But life keeps getting in the way and then I don't upload it on Thursday, so then I rewrote it for "flashbackfriday" but then we went out of town so I re-rewrote it for the next thursday forgetting that we were leaving early thursday morning for the whole weekend and now I'm just so done with this dumb thing, I will not be re-writing any of it. Good luck with continuity.

Well.

We all knew this was coming.

I did well for three weeks, let's just appreciate that fact for a moment.

...

Yaaay!

Okay here's your next installment of #ThrowbackThursday

a "week late" (see? toldja, three weeks late now) technically

because I suck

and I forgot to do it last week.
The night I was supposed to do it
I was already all cuddled up in bed with my book

and very pressing matters (read: chapters) to attend to.

I have a problem.

It's called Book-Induced Insomnia Syndrome.

Apparently I'm a life-long sufferer.

Look what a pretentious baby I was though,

dat book title, yo.
The Federal Reserve blah-blah-something

Kay, just appreciate for a moment
how much effort it took for me to
get that edit uploaded.
OHMUHGUH.
Technologically impaired right hurr.
Also.
#uglytophatftw
I musta sat on it or something.

Happy Throwback Thursday!
Finally!!

I Do Adult

I did a downright awful job trying to silently enjoy watching Mamrie/Grace/Hannah videos during my lunch break today. I went up into the dark, quiet conference room to further distance myself from the diligent, hardworking folks in the actual office area and thought I was quietly snickering to myself for the most part.
Except for that one bit where I accidentally spat ravioli out onto the glass table because Mamrie said something particularly witty and/or hilarious. As she is wont to do on occasion.
I consistently had to hold my hand over my mouth and cut off the air supply to my nose as well because I could not stop laughing.
These youtubers feel like my friends. (you tuber! #shakesfist)
Which is quite sad really.
But hey they're funny and I like funny people.

When I finally emerged from the dark conference room my single, solitary female coworker (not pertinent to the story whatsoever, gender doesn't matter, just random deets) alerted me to the fact that I was not being as stealthy in my mirth as I had previously imagined.
"Were you watching a funny movie up in there? What was going on??" she asked.
Apparently a couple people grew concerned at the strange noise permeating the office which turned out to be my giggling. Maybe they thought I was crying. Maybe they were convinced an anteater had wormed into our air ducts. I dunno.
In any case, my laughter cannot seem to be contained. Alas.

Also, who wants to help me start a fund to build up the monies so I can buy basically all their Camp Takota merch? Because yaaaaass plz. #dowant

Am I a Monster?

Blogging goal: do this thing. It's a cool thing. I'm gunna do the thing.

Blogging reality: Forget to do the thing. GIFS FOR DISTRACTION!

True story.

In all honesty, I had planned to access blogger from my phone to keep up on this TFiOS (The Fault in Our Stars) "feels fest" while we went camping for the weekend, because on my Top 5 Favorite Activities list "reading by the shoreline" ranks quite high, but turns out cell service doesn't extend to deep canyons hours out of civilization. Go figure.

Also my phone died. Inpermanently of course. Just...no outlets either. 

So I wrote my first feels-explosion before we left town and then the next day I found myself at the end of the book having had a grant total of zero moments where I thought to put it down and write stuff about it so now, three days later, I'll just have to make do with memory.

So!

I finished the book. 

And guys, would you believe it, I didn't shed a single tear. 

But not because I wasn't emotionally invested! Not at all because it wasn't the most beautiful love and life story I have read in a long time. Not in any way due to the fact that I'm a ruined mess on the inside because John Green made the English language seem halfway decent in expressing deep and potent human emotion.

I still don't know why I didn't cry. I've been thinking about it a lot. The simplest way I can explain it is that there wasn't time to be sad for the characters. I literally suddenly found myself flipping the last page and I was at the Q&A exclusive section at the back of the book and I kinda just sat there in a stupefied haze.

I was very quiet and enveloped in my thoughts for the rest of the evening.

I gazed pretentiously at the immense expanse of stars glittering above our campsite considering how far we were from the glow of cities and just thought about the kind of person I've let myself become.

But I never cried. 

I think I felt like crying would have been a disrespect to Hazel and/or Augustus. They didn't want my pity. They didn't need my sadness. 

Logically, I should have cried. I'm openly emotional when it comes to the media I listen to or watch. Throwing cancer (and other assorted dire maladies), animals, or military into the mix is basically just a recipe for disaster in my tear ducts.

But honestly, with The Fault in Our Stars, I only felt...uplifted.

I felt like I had a better capacity to enjoy the life I was given.

John Green talked about how he didn't want to sentimentalize or romanticize any part of the story and I full-heartedly believe he succeeded in that endeavor. I believed these were real people with real struggles having real reactions.

Their grand trip to Amsterdam was perfect, but only because they made it so.

The end for Augustus was horrific and there were no grand speeches, no death-bedside admonitions and professions of undying love, just a sick boy who desperately wanted to be more than "just sick" losing all capacity to make coherent sentences before he died.

Hazel didn't get a grand, last-minute goodbye.

And someday, that will be okay.

I don't know how to explain that those sentiments don't tug tears from my eyes but the death of Sirius Black by a magical curse and slipping into an ethereal void makes me sob like my childhood pet just got run over by a car...that I was driving. (Seriously folks, it wrecks me.)

It is the best book I've read in a long time. Please do not mistake these admissions of tearless-ness to be criticism of the novel itself. I will recommend it to any who will listen and yes you can borrow my copy (only if you sign the waiver, of course). 

#thestruggle

I honestly feel like TFiOS expanded my mind and made me a better, more intelligent and empathetic person. I am glad for people like John Green that can take their life experiences and share it in such a way that my well-being can benefit from it as well.

Huzzah for books.

#deanapprovesthismessage

TFiOS Feels

I have an opportunity here.
One that will likely be unpopular considering the amount of blathering the entire world has already dumped into the internet and beyond dealing with this book.
But I just started it for the first time.
And because I'm a nerd and my favorite subject in school was always English (and Art(s), tied) I cannot vanquish the need to write about the literature I read.
So prepare ye for random updates on the feels that I feel during this reading venture. And just be glad that I don't do this for every book I read because I could write novels [no comment as to the quality of said 'novels'] about The Stormlight Series that Mark and I are on right now I'm legitimately obsessed. In a bad way. And by 'bad' I really mean 'glorious'.

Oh, and like, **Spoilers**. DUH.

Chapter Five, Page 64

Feels Already Felt; I'm pretty sure I never stopped smiling (except for Isaac's meltdown) (except not really because HOW EFFING REALISTIC with Augustus encouraging him and making lighthearted jokes about it but keeping it real but UGGGGHHH so fabulous). I've already laughed out loud multiple times, looking a right fool I'm sure.
And oh my gosh, the thinkings. The thoughts circling my head already. Oblivion, perspective, human tendency, John Green I can't even with you right now.

Also, struggling hardcore with the fact that I want to mark the CRAP out of this book but no way in heaven am I defacing my brand new, fancy "exclusive collector's edition". (Which has zero meaning to me cuz I don't know what qualifies it as "collectible", like, maybe the pretty silver jacket?)* I just feel like I need a double set of every book I own. One to stay in beautiful, pristine, paper-smelling condition and the other to draw in and highlight and scribble notes in and cry on.
Bookworm problems. The struggle is so very real.
Didn't someone come up with translucent post-it notes or something? I need that. I need translucent post-its the size of the book I'm reading cuz lesbihonest, dat shiz is brilliant.

So uhhh, yeah that's how I feel about it so far.
I also need my lunch break to be like, at least two hours longer. Possibly more like seven. Until I'm done basically. Actually, you know what, can I just go home? #todayismyFriday

Effect(s): I already want to be a more optimistic person. Which is bizarre because Hazel is far from optimistic and Augustus is just...I don't know, an optimesstic?
In the other book I'm reading (Words of Radiance) there are also two lead characters, male and female, who go through a buttload of crap, and one embodies pessimism while the other deals through, not necessarily optimism, but cheerfulness. And her cheerfulness makes me feel guilty.
Hazel's realistic views and Augustus' propensity towards bolstering others just really lifts my spirits. Not in a "If they can do it, I can do it" way and more of a "Man the sun is so awesome, look at that sunshine go, driving is fun" way.

64 pages??

I'm also on a book high. I'm keeping a list of the books I'm reading this year and giving quick reviews of them in another blog post that I'll publish at the end of the year but let's just say I'm way over being able to count all of them on my fingers. Aided by the fact that I read the Harry Potter series and finished it before March. So, granted, all the credit may not be reserved for TFiOS. Vague disclaimer, ftw.

*I looked up what makes the Collector's Edition so special. And I was half right. It's partly the fancy cover (which I am all for more steely gray in my life) as well as a nifty Q&A section in the back. And pretty much any words out of John Green's mouth are words I want to hear.

Week of 6/10

Honestly I'm just here to complain.

It's been a another week of diligently refusing treats and goodies and eating small meals and avoiding stuffing my face with carbs and limiting calories and going on walks/bike rides/hikes and YOU GUYS.

I'm still at 170.8

But I am grateful that I'm not gaining. So.

Silver lining.

But really? Seriously?! Meanwhile husband over here just thinks about losing weight and SHABAM. Ten pounds gone. Mumble grumble BAH HUMBUG.

Holy first-world problems, tho. Sorry everybody. Just needed a second to pout in my little corner of the internet here. I started out the year weighing just barely over 174 and it's been months now with only four pounds to show for it? Getting healthy has never been this difficult for me so I'm having trouble adjusting to the struggle. The struggle is so very, very real.
What's a girl gotta do to get some real results up in here?!
Anyway. Complaining done.
Thanks for the listen! Sorry for the annoyance.

#ThrowbackThursday Totes McGoats

No, literally.

Goats.

Getting Ahead of Myself...

I've got babies on my mind. With two close friends already on their second kid (and due by the end of summer) and one friend on the brink of mommyhood (so excited to meet you #babybell!!) I'm thinking a lot about my own future children and how I shall fare with my own Mommy mantle.

This is a list of books that my mom read to me that I will read to my children to compensate for the unfortunate "distressed damsel" psychosis brought upon by the majority of Disney movies because, lezbihonest, I'll enjoy brainwashing watching those just as much as the kids. (Okay, but maybe not the 15th time in a row since 8am, I'm not a sociopath.) I'm not saying that any and every kid raised on Disney movies or the like will grow up to be a whimpering pansy waiting for their Shining Knight (Mulan, Pocahontas, Merida, Tiana, helloooo) but I am saying these books are fab.

--Little House on the Prairie series

• I often feel guilty still when I think about how hard they had to work to live and be good people. Pa and Ma are saints and I just hope to be able to raise my children half as well as the Ingalls' did.
• It isn't until "These Happy, Golden Years" that romance even enters the picture. She's a normal girl having epic adventures wherever she can manage.
• She gets a job extremely young and is incredibly honest about the pros and cons of it. Instilling good work ethic? Yaaaas plzzz.
• The beautiful frienemy-ship Laura has with her siblings. So good.

--Matilda

• Comedic, whimsical, delightful, and traumatizing all in one bizarre little book. I kid you not I made my mom read this book with me probably 3 times a year until I was 10. My saintly mother. We would cuddle up in bed and drink hot cocoa just like Matilda liked to do. After we were finished I would sit on the foot of my bed and strain my eyes till I got a headache trying to produce a facsimile of Matilda's amazing powers. I'm fairly certain my awful eyesight is the fruition of those efforts.
• The amount of questionable mini-lessons like, "encourage anarchy in your school" and "revolt against any and all teachers that don't smother you with kindness" may not be superb, but I dunno I turned out okay. I wasn't rushing to dust my teacher's boxers with itching powder or consistently rebel and get myself stuck in a torture box of horror. But enduring to the end? Family is what/who you make of it? Quirkiness is not to be ashamed of? All are lessons I'd be proud to bestow upon my kids.

--Basically everything Roald Dahl

• That book about the Tortoise....Esio Trot? cuz it's tortoise backwards? I haven't thought about that book in forever but gosh, I loved it. It's like Dr. Seuss level ridiculous but somehow still has actual plot and meaning to it.
• The mind that brought us Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Witches, James and the Giant Peach; if you threw Tim Burton and Dr. Seuss in a blender and baked it in the oven out would come the perfect Roald Dahl pie. (Sorry, I went a little Sweeney Todd there...random)

--Speaking of Dr. Seuss...

• My previous "diss" was less of a "diss" and more of an admission that I'm not smart enough for Seuss-speak. I LOVE the books and will definitely utilize them in building up speech, but when I get to the end of Green Eggs and Ham I'm just hungry. I don't remember feeling like I should be a better human after reading Seuss but it DID whet my creative appetite.
• If I was to obtain only one fault as a parent (HA!) it would be that I will probably just breed creativity. I honestly worry about having carpet in the house because I will want to paint, and sculpt, and glue, and sparkle, and constantly be creating with my kids. Which is obviously not a bad thing, per se. "All things in moderation," right?

--The Secret Garden

• Good golly I hated Mary Lennox. This is another book I wanted to read over, and over, and over. I loved everything about the moor and the manor and the gardens and whats-his-face with all his animal friends. But the whining children spewing their arrogance and entitlement all over everything and everyone is probably what made me determined to actually be a decent human growing up.
  "I will not be like Mary Lennox, I will not be a brat, I won't!"
• Not everybody will always want to share their story with you and you just gotta be nice and let them work it out. You don't know their life, you don't know their circumstances, kill their grump with kindness. You can't go wrong with being nice.
• Gardens. GARDENS. 

--The Poky Little Puppy

• And all those little books with the gold binding? Help me, google!
• Oh, literally, "Little Golden Books". lolz
• These were some of the first I ever started reading aloud and I loved it.

*Honorable Mentions: To be encouraged for personal reading

--Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys/Boxcar Children

--Brian Jacques' Redwall Series

--Series of Unfortunate Events

--Artemis Fowl

--Harry fracking Potter duh.

(Update: 6/24/14)
--Chronicles of Narnia (how could I forget?!)

I'm quickly realizing that this is basically an outline of my evil plan to mold my children into bookworms. And I don't even feel bad.

Because I will read whatever my little human shoves in my lap whether it's Dr. Seuss, Laura Ingalls Wilder, or a knockoff Disney reproduction that includes bogus ending lines such as "Flynn will always love Rapunzel's crown" and then I will pencil in my own ending about love and respect and disregard for material objects because WUT?? (actual quote from a coloring book I bought) (for myself)

And like I said, I will encourage those books but it's not gonna be, like, a required reading list to qualify for Dinner Rights. If they want "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" they can read that (not bashing it! Just have never read them myself so I can't say either way...). If they want comics, they can have comics. What's an appropriate comic book reading age? Like, people get murdered in alleyways, is that really okay for a third grader? I dunno.

This is quickly sliding down the rabbit-hole of "omg am I gonna be an okay parent? Will my children live? How am I going to do this??"

Basically, our house will be littered with books and I hope I can instill a love of reading in my children and help cultivate their imaginations rather than letting t.v. do the job for me. It's so hard to type stuff like this and not worry about someone on the reading end getting offended because they think I'm calling them out as a bad parent.

Literally, if your kid is alive and breathing and is nice to people, that's all the criteria I need to think you're being a good parent. And like, you aren't abusing them. Obvy.

But this is what I mean about "getting ahead of myself". Children are still a ways off; corporate still has to announce the official date for when they're closing down our office.
"Hope! Why don't you just quit now if you're so ready for kids? Motherhood is the most important always."
I know. I was going to quit in May after my anniversary date so I could sell back my vacation hours but then they announced our office was closing and there would be a nice chunk of severance but you have to stay till the close date. Which is currently projected for September. But it's "flexible" so who knows really.
So nobody get their drawers in a twist. This is not an announcement (or rather just an announcement of my battle plans) and we are not expecting.

I just like making lists.

Week of 5/27 (in which we angst a bit)

Thursday, May 29th; Day...meh.
--Are you bored yet? I'm bored with myself. This is the part of weight loss that becomes really difficult to turn into a lifestyle change. "Is this worth it? Do I really want this? What's wrong with a little pizza? I brought a good lunch to work but ugghhh Tacooo Beeellll."
But srsly. If they bring back the Beefy Crunch burrito anytime soon it's gunna be bad news, sister. I don't even like fritos but I will snarf the CRAP out of those things. It's like the worst mix of indulgence with the knowledge that every bite is careening me closer to a swift death.
--Been a bit lax in the exercise department this week. Tuesday I gave myself a break (even though it had just been Memorial Day, I mean come on self, buck up)

It was a good experience though because I noticed a difference in myself. Normally I would gorge on those Doritos until they were near gone and I hated myself but instead I had a few handfuls, rolled up the bag, and stuck it away. But that was also my dinner so...#adulthood
Mark had his dad come over to help diagnose the issue with our downstairs a/c unit that decided it wanted a vacation yesterday (Wednesday) so donning my sports bra and yoga pants and getting all sweaty wasn't high on my to-do in front of my father-in-law.
And those are my excuses! Shutup!
--TMI Warning!

BM's are so much better. Two days in a row is an effing big deal for me (which would be depressing if I wasn't so ecstatic). I would also feel worse about talking about this if most of my known readers weren't already parents (I know, I know, it's different when it's YOUR kids, but honestly aren't you a little blase about poop by now?). In the meantime I'm mostly just "backspace, or not to backspace?"
--Oh another food experience that boosted my confidence in myself. Somebody brought Bosa Donuts into the office this morning and so far in my 23 and 1/2 years of life my only experience with these infamous delicacies has been the crumbling, squashed leftovers that my sweet husband brought home months and months ago from a long day (actually I think it was two days) at his office. So obviously I'm not really counting those. But I had just eaten my breakfast stuff that I brought along with me so I was able to say, "I will wait until later to cave in" because I'm really good at determination. #sarcasm
When the time came that I was ready to cave (right after my half of a burrito for lunch) all that was left was one of those useless unglazed, unsprinkled, unpowdered, unjellied donuts.
WHY ARE YOU EVEN EXIST??
And I was able to walk away sans donut and eat my watermelon slice in the fridge instead because why waste those calories? I think normally my brain would have said, "I'm stressed out, we deserve that donut, yessss, eat it, ssshhhh, it will all be over sooooon..." and I would have complained on Instagram about the lack of milk in this office like a whiner.
Instead I'm feeling just fine and haven't overloaded on unnecessary carbs!
Seriously though if it had glaze or icing or custard or even jelly I probably would have had it. So I'm not as awesome as I sound. I basically turned down sweet choke-bread. Woo-hoo go me.

It felt like a big step though, okay?

Friday, May 30th; Day OMGIGIVEUP

--Today did not start off well. It was a bad number morning. And like, not even that bad but I was brushing my teeth and thinking, "hmm, I think I did really well maybe it will be good news!"
It wasn't.
Despite exercising and forgoing donuts and eating watermelon slices and single hardboiled eggs as meal supplements for dayyyzzz I'm back up 2 whole pounds from my last weigh in.
Which could very well be bloating.
But it is so incredibly discouraging. From the beginning of the year until now I've only fluctuated within 5 lbs from my original start weight. I even went beyond that weight which is why I really kicked myself into gear a few weeks ago and started this blog-logging. (redundant much?)
Basically I'm frustrated. I'm slumped in a mucky rut of frustration.
And I haven't gone grocery shopping so meal prep is no-fun-times.
Whining McWhinerson here!
And I think I want kids, HAH.
--Rationally, I'm aware that there are most likely extenuating factors contributing to this weight gain and that my mirror-induced-hopes are probably not in vain because hello muscle gain.
But I'm quickly losing my ability to be rational no matter my efforts. Thanks uterus.
--Back to whining, BASICALLY I feel like I've been stuck around 175 for sooo loooong eating whatever junk I wanted to and living pretty sedentarilly (not a real word #yolo) but I wasn't getting any worse. So shrug, it was okay! But now I'm fo realz trying really hard and I'm going nowhere fast. NOWHERE. I've been glaring at that blasted 7 for so effing long I feel like it's my conjoined twin and we share a heart so I can never be removed of it. Y'know, without becoming a "heartless" monster. (ba-dum-tss)
And I knooooow, 175 isn't a horrid weight. I should be grateful.
But that's the other half of this equation.
It's incredibly frustrating to feel like I can't vent about the things that are "giving me grief" in my own life because I'm worried about offending someone else or giving the impression that I'm ungrateful for my circumstances or don't realize how lucky I am.
Just sometimes...I feel fat.
Regardless of who I know or how educated I am on BMI or how many "weight vs. height" obesity graphs I've memorized, I just. feel. fat.
I feel gross and unattractive and like a large, disgusting, human balloon. Except the balloon is old and deflated and stretched out and smells like saliva. (I don't smell like saliva, just...the metaphor... #descriptivewritingishaaaaard)
But it's hard to face those feelings and work through them and come out the other side feeling confident and okay with where I'm at and okay with the steps I'm taking to fix myself when I can't admit to having those feelings in the first place for fear of social retribution.
And like, you guys are nice! I like you people! I don't know why I'm so afraid of you yelling at me because I think I'm fat...sometimes.

Not sometimes I'm afraid but I only really, legitimately sometimes rag on myself for being heavier than I think I should at this point in my life. Heavier than I want to be, mostly.

Sigh.

Oh, I guess we're done emotionally vomiting now all over this public space. Yeah? Cool.

Actually one last disclaimer: Words of encouragement are appreciated, if you feel so inclined, but I have my weight loss plan and I've been on it for almost a month now and I'm sticking through this rough patch so please don't bombard me with tips and tricks and ask me to join your body building/cross fit/oil wrapping group because I will feel really awkward about it and agonize over how to turn it down without hurting your feelings and probably end up sticking my head in the sand and ignoring it altogether and then both of us will be sad and I really don't want that.
Please still be my friend though.

Monday, June 2; days and things

--That weekend flew by.
--The struggle is so very real.
--I've already had a cup of hot cocoa and a krispy kreme donut today and I have a grand total of zero delusions that I will be able to resist a second one after an appropriate amount of time waiting for everyone else to get at the box. You snooze, you lose. #allisfairinloveanddonuts (love and donuts, they're the same thing, right?)

--Weight is the same. As ever.
--BUT! I measured myself again and so far I've lost a total of two inches in bust (/sob) and three in waist! Really excited about that. Hips just as wide as ever.
--It's supposed to be bleepin' hot today so a bike ride after work is definitely on the slate. Plus our tv room is a bit occupied so Taebo is less of an ideal idea.

This fort was the best idea. We watched a movie, and played cards, and did 20 Questions; Animal Style also-unlimited-questions-style-because-reasons. And stayed up till almost eleven. On a work night! /legasp
Even Odin joined in on the fun but it was too dark to get a good picture. It was rather a "Camel in the Tent" experience.
As an effect of staying up till eleven, the fort still remains currently standing because we're not nearly adult enough to clean up after ourselves in a timely manner.
What iz dis, real life?! Ain't nobody got time fo dat.
It'll come down today, tho. Probably. Maybe. Or perhaps I'll eat popcorn and watch series three of Sherlock on Netflix. Finally.
There's laundry to fold. That's enough adult for one day.