What's the Worst That Could Happen?

I have this idea. Well, I actually have lots of ideas going on at any given time. It's just that I don't have the ability to realize them most of them, not having the engineering skills to develop a cleaning robot smarter than a Roomba nor the extra millions to create my ideal school.

But.

This other idea.

I have the basic skills to make it happen. It doesn't require engineering skills or money. It's not some revolutionary thing like Pinterest. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love Pinterest? You should follow me on there.) I think I would enjoy it. I think I would be good at it.

If it wasn't for the voices in my head saying things like, "You're not going to be able to pull this off. Why would anyone listen to you? No one will take you seriously," I would be working on my idea right now.

Everyone always tells you to listen to your gut when making big decisions. Usually I am one of those people. My life has always gone better when I've listened to my gut and I've always regretted it when I haven't. Yet this time my gut seems to have gone on vacation.

I hope it's on the beach in Hawaii sipping a Mai Tai. One of us should be.

In the absence of my gut, though, the doubting voices in my head seem awfully loud. But then I think, "What's the worst that could happen?" I mean, it's not like my idea is to become an amateur brain surgeon.

Or even a professional brain surgeon.

It's not life and death. If it doesn't work, then I will have just wasted some time. And considering I spent a semester of college curled up in bed watching St. Elsewhere reruns, I know I can survive time wasting.

I'm sorry to be so cryptic, but my idea isn't fully formed yet. It does have to do with blogging, though.

Should I go for it?

Just Cough On It: Working Out While Sick

I love exercising. Sure, it might be mostly because it's my quiet time to read at the gym, but that doesn't matter. I like it. If I can't get to the gym, I will jump around while watching a favorite TV show. I have made exercise a part of my me time and I have a very difficult time separating the two. Which is probably why I kept working out even after I got my cold last week.

Now, The Mayo Clinic will tell you that it's okay to work out if you have a cold - if all of your symptoms are above your neck. While I generally trust the Mayo Clinic web site and its advice, I'm pretty sure they are not entirely correct about this cold thing. When I worked out last Thursday, Friday and Saturday, all of my symptoms were above my neck. Runny nose, headache, sore throat, you know.

By Saturday night? I had a terrible cough.

My immune system doesn't really work properly, though. I have ulcerative colitis and allegries, so my immune system tends to be attacking me rather than the cold viruses my children bring home.  I can't say for sure whether the continued work outs prompted the cough and slight fever.

I can say that I didn't work out Sunday or Monday and now I feel much better. So much so that I did a light work out today. I guess we can see whether I continue to feel better or whether my hacking cough comes back with a vengeance. Not that this is an exactly scientific study, but it'd be nice to know whether I should take a break every time I get a cold, or whether I'm going to develop a horrible cough no matter what I do.

What about you? Do you exercise when you're sick? Do you follow the Mayo Clinic's above the neck rule?

Weighty Wednesday: The Scale Is A Bitch

And I don't mean that in a  Tina Fey "Bitches Get Stuff Done" way, or a "Babe In Total Control of Herself" way. I mean that in a  sneaky, backstabbing, lead actress in a soap opera way.

Recently, my scale showed that I had gained weight. Now, since I only weigh myself once a week and since I'm eating less than I did at this time last year, there's really no reason for this to be happening.

Except that the scale is a bitch.

The other day after Hot Guy praised my dedication to the gym, I ranted about the weight gain (isn't that how you're supposed to react to compliments from your husband? Ranting?). And he looked me and said, "No, you haven't gained weight."

And while the man does look at me naked on a regular basis, I took his perception with a grain of salt. Horny men aren't very discerning, after all. But then I remembered that all my pants still fit just fine. So I went old school and took out a tape measure.

I'd lost an inch around my waist and an inch around my thighs since the last time I'd measured, which was 3 weeks ago when I realized that I needed to adjust my bra size. So I was in fact smaller than I had been, even though the scale said otherwise.

"Muscle ways more than fat" is one of those phrases I've always heard but never really believed. Unless you were talking about body builders or something. I always trusted the scale first, my clothes second. And measurements? I never paid any attention to them at all.

No wonder I've spent most of my life upset with my weight. . . I've been listening to a bitch.

I'm going to start taking my cues from the tape measure; she seems like a really kind girl.

How do you measure your weight?

Weighty Wednesday: Selfie Loathing

I can't remember the last time I liked a picture of myself. Sometimes I can sort of like a family picture, or a picture of me with Hot Guy or a kiddo, but I'm pretty much guaranteed to loathe any picture of just me.

I'm pretty sure this indicates that I don't love and accept myself the way I am. At least on the outside.

I heard about the #365FeministSelfie on Twitter one night a couple of months ago. I thought, I should do that. I bet it would help me learn to accept myself.

Or at least get better at taking selfies.

But then I promptly forgot about it, because my brain is a sieve and I didn't write it down. Or maybe because I wanted to forget about it, because the idea of taking pictures of myself on a regular basis makes me extremely uncomfortable - never mind actually having to share them with people.

And yet.

I want a world where women of all sizes, shapes, styles and colors are considered beautiful. I want a world in which women stop obsessing about the last five pounds and use that energy to run for political office. I want a world in which we all love our bodies and treat them with care and respect.

I want to make healthy choices not because I'm hoping to lose weight and then love myself, but just because I love myself as I am.

I do not want to hate almost* every single picture of myself taken after 2002.

*I don't hate this one and it's from 2006. Though there is technically a kid with me (Lovebug) and there's the whole breastfeeding on a glacier coolness factor. 

So this is me trying to take a selfie. 

I hate this picture. 

But I'm posting it anyway. 

Hoping for radical self-acceptance to magically appear. 

Weighty Wednesday: Yes, I'm Trying to Avoid You

I took some personality quiz a while back that was supposed to determine if you were an introvert or an extrovert (I would link to it, but since I just wasted 25 minutes on Facebook and couldn't find it, you'll just have to trust me). Apparently now there's something between the two, called an ambivert, which is what I supposedly am.

Unless you try to talk to me while I'm at the gym.

I'll be honest with you, here on the internet, in a way that I can't be in person. Yes, I'm trying to avoid you at the gym. Here's why:

• I have never looked cute while working out, not even when I was young and cute and slim(ish). I don't wear make-up at the gym, I sweat like a boy and my face turns bright red. This is not how I want to greet anyone, let alone the acquaintances that I always run into there.
• My workout is my quiet time. I don't have to answer questions or try to follow complicated stories; I can just read or meditate or stare at the CNN headlines. And I like it. 
• I'm horrible at small talk. I think I've forgotten how. Or possibly I've always been terrible at it and I didn't realize it until I had the wisdom you get from being over 40, I don't know.
• I'm trying to keep my heart rate at 80%, which means I'm pushing myself, which means I'm probably too out of breath to talk anyway. 
• I only have a limited time to work out. If I have a chat with you, I will lose workout time. And unless you're telling me what's going to happen next on Downton Abbey, my workout time is more important to me than whatever we're talking about. 
• I always wonder whether you're wondering how I can sweat so much so often and still be so fat. Then I start wondering the same thing, and the shame cycle starts and I wind up at Dunkin Donuts on my way home. 
• I don't want to do spin or Zumba or whatever class with you. Having an authority figure around when I exercise turns me into a recalcitrant teenager. 
• We're not close friends. If we were, you would already know that I'd much rather talk to you over drinks than over treadmills. 

I think it's safe to say that my introvert side definitely comes out at the gym. What about you? Do you like chatting with acquaintances while you work out? 

Weighty Wednesday: Healthier Choices

I don't believe in dieting, but that doesn't mean I don't want to make healthier choices. Sometimes, though, it's hard to remember that "not dieting" does not mean eating like an Olympic swimmer (I will never get over the article I read about how Michael Phelps eats 12,000 calories a day when he's training). Unless you are an Olympic swimmer.

Which I am not. Unfortunately. Because I would totally like to attempt to eat like one.

I like eating.

Anyway, one thing I (sometimes, when I'm acting like a responsible adult and my colitis isn't flaring and I don't have PMS) do when I'm working on being healthier is to write down everything I eat for a week or two.

I have tried recording it my workout/weight record app, My Fitness Pal (does anyone have an app they recommend?), but then it always tallies my calories and tells me how long it will take to lose 10 pounds and lets me know how many calories I have left for the day. It reminds me of my checking account, frankly. It gets me obsessed with numbers, not health. I invariably get discouraged. And then I stop recording what I'm eating.

So I find a non-tallying, old-fashioned notebook more effective. When I don't want to write down what I just ate, or what I'm about to eat, I realize there's a problem with my choice. It's not always enough to keep me on a healthy track, but I think it helps.

When I love myself enough to do it.

What strategies do you use to make healthy choices?

Weighty Wednesday: Suck It

I did not grow up drinking water. I mean, I must have had some on occasion, but it wasn't a regular thing. I had to have orange juice for breakfast and milk for dinner, which was fine, but the rest of the time I drank soda. It didn't even matter to me whether it was Coke or ginger ale or my mom's Tab, just as long as it wasn't that "tasteless" water.

I remember going jogging in college and then picking up a fountain Diet Pepsi from the student union to "rehydrate". That's how strong my disdain for water was. It wasn't until I first started experiencing hang overs in my late 20's that I actually drank water on purpose. And even then it was mainly to prevent a hangover   - I would down a glass like medicine, then sip my soda (and then pass out).

It was being pregnant with Ironflower - who, coincidentally, loves water - that got me to actually like water. For some reason it was the only thing that quelled my first trimester nausea. Plus, having cut way back on the soda, I had to drink something.

So the fact that I'm writing a "Drink Water!" post on the internet is a little bit ridiculous.

But really, the fact that I'm talking about weight on the internet at all is a bit ridiculous. So I'm just going to say it:

If you want to lose (or maintain) weight, drink more water.

If you're not impressed with the scientific studies in the above link, read a "women's magazine" story about a woman losing a lot of weight and keeping it off. Nine times out of ten*, she'll talk about how much water she drinks. Or you could also look up almost any diet plan out there, from a sane one like Weight Watchers to a crazy juice fast, and you'll see a water intake recommendation.

I thought the water thing was bullshit until I tried to lose weight after having Ironflower. Weeks I was good about my water intake, I lost baby weight. Weeks I wasn't, I didn't lose any weight.

That's still true today. If I want to lose weight, I have to suck it.

I mean water.

Obviously.

I find it easier to drink more water if I am sucking it through a straw or bite valve or sports top. Possibly because I am terribly uncoordinated when I drink it out of a glass and always wind up spilling it on my shirt. But also because I think it tastes better that way.

I never claimed I made sense.

But that doesn't mean you shouldn't drink more water.


*Not an actual statistic.

Weighty Wednesday: One Small Step

Ironflower and Lovebug were born 15 months apart. I was pregnant and/or nursing from March of 2004 until June of 2007.

To say that I was tired during this period is an understatement. And nine months after I (finally) weaned Lovebug, I got pregnant with Hugmonkey.

So, except for a nine month break, I was pregnant or nursing from March 2004 until December 2009. And I went from a person who spent most of her day standing and some of her free time dancing, hiking and exercising to a person who was always searching for a moment to sit down. Except when she was sitting down and nursing. 

I tried to go for walks. I was always standing and moving at home and on the playground (except for when I was nursing, which was pretty often with both of the boys). But I was never sweaty. I was never breathing hard. And when I did have a moment to myself all I wanted to do was lie down. 

When Hugmonkey was 18 months old, we finally joined the YMCA. I managed to actually work out and sweat again, but I didn't magically lose 20 pounds like every other time I had committed to exercise in my life.

I almost gave up.

I think I would have given up, if not for one thing; I actually started to have energy again. Not a lot, but some. It was the first time I had felt even somewhat like myself in six years. 

I have slacked off here and there, including about 5 months when I dealt with the whole repeated strep throat and tonsils out incidents, but I keep going back. It's not about losing weight (since apparently that only worked when I was under 35) or even having my clothes fit better (though they do), it's about wanting to actually do stuff again. It's about actually being able to help my husband move a piece of furniture. It's about having swimming races with my kids. It's about guilt-free me time each day. 

I would probably burn more calories in a Zumba class. But I know I wouldn't get a sense of peace and calm in a Zumba class. So I'll read my magazine on the Arc or the elliptical, and that's okay. Some days all I do is march in place while I watch a TV show. Because I love my TV shows. 

Back when I was overwhelmed with small children and pregnancy, I saw exercise as something that required me to work full out for an extended period of time. If I couldn't do that, I wouldn't bother. I wish I could go back and smack myself. Anything helps - even if it's just standing instead of sitting during the local news. And any exercise you actually like is worth doing because that's what you'll actually stick with. When I first started exercising again, I had this idea that I'd start running. The more I forced myself to run jog slowly, the more I hated it. I dreaded the exercise, so any poopy diaper was an excuse to quit for the day. 

Now I am ticked if I can't go to the gym, because I actually like what I do there. Okay, I also probably like the quiet and the opportunity to read uninterrupted as well. But still. I urge anyone who thinks they don't have the time or the energy to just try to find something they like doing. Or to stand up during their favorite TV shows. Just do something, no matter how small. 

Weighty Wednesday: Food Fight

One year in college, I had two roommates. One of them was skinny, and one of them was more medium sized, but she very much wanted to be skinny. When the whole "fat makes you fat" line of thinking came out, medium sized roommate came home with approximately four thousand boxes of Snackwell snacks.

On nights when we would gather to watch TV - probably the original Beverly Hills 90210, as we didn't have cable - medium would eat a bunch of Snackwell cookies and skinny would eat two regular Oreos or chocolate chip cookies. Being more on the medium side, I figured I'd give Snackwells a try. But I remember it taking four of them to equal the pleasure I got from one Oreo. I went back to regular cookies. Medium roommate became more medium. Skinny roommate stayed skinny. I lost five pounds. 

I haven't really trusted diet bandwagons - and the foods that follow them - since. It would be lovely to think that if I just cut out sugar, or fat, or carbs, or lima beans (oh wait, I've already cut out lima beans because they are the WORST) that all my body issues would be solved. I get why people are attracted to the idea of cutting out one food group. And sure, if you eat twelve Oreos and drink two cans of soda every day and then you cut out sugar, you are going to lose weight. At least until you freak out and binge on sugary stuff. . . or wind up in the hospital from a vitamin deficiency because you also cut out the natural sugars found in fruit and dairy.

When it comes to eating, I'm a huge fan of consistent, conservative scientific research. It blows my mind that people pay money to various diet companies when the CDC has scientifically-based healthy  eating information for free. They even have suggestions beyond what to eat; they also tell you how to eat healthfully. The truth is, the additives and pesticides in our foods should scare us more than gluten, fat or sugar.

I mean, Subway uses a chemical used in yoga mats in their BREADS. Not their bags, or their cups, or any one of their non-edible items. Their freaking breads. And they don't use it at their European and Asian stores, because they're not allowed to there. I find that terrifying. (If you'd like more information about the chemicals used in your food, the Center for Science in the Public Interest has a great list).

There's a part of me that would like to make all of my food from scratch, at home, from all natural ingredients. Except that I generally hate cooking. And healthy food. I have managed to give up fast food, mainly because of all those stories about how fast food never breaks down. This did not cause me to drop 20 pounds immediately, much to my chagrin. But it is one (very, very, very) small step towards my (unattainable) goal of eating unprocessed foods only.

I am trying to eat fewer processed foods, and foods that have been processed less. Which brings me back to Snackwells. Fake foods - or fake versions of real foods (I'm looking at you, skim milk) - are not satisfying. A lot of times their fat has been replaced by sugar; or their sugar by chemicals or what have you. But I still feel bad sometimes, when I reach for the whole milk or the regular yogurt or the cookie I really, really want. I think to myself, "You're too fat to eat like this. Sure, eating what you loved and listening to your body worked before, but now you're super fat. And old. Dip a carrot in this fat-free ranch dressing, that's what fat girls should eat."

And then I have to tell myself to stop being such a freaking bitch.

And I remind myself what Geneen Roth would say about eating healthfully, not emotionally.

I still have a very fraught relationship with food. In case you couldn't tell. I know that I'm not going to start cooking everything from scratch unless the world stops producing great books,  creating great TV shows and the internet breaks down forever. I know (now) that cutting out fast food (which I don't even miss) doesn't mean the weight will magically disappear. I know that it's going to take me a really long time to get to my healthy weight this way.

But having a good relationship with food - just like accepting my body - is important. It's a fight worth having, even though I'm tired and cranky and worried about financial stuff and parenting and writing and working and taking care of the house and working on my marriage and, and , and.

Weighty Wednesday: The Hug I Couldn't Give

I have not come to magically love my body in the last week.

Yeah, I know, I was hoping that writing about it would make it happen too. Oh well.

And yet, I feel better than the woman I overheard the other day. This woman was definitely in better shape than I am, in fact, I thought she looked great. But apparently she wanted to look like her extremely petite friend (even though she was of medium height and had pretty big bones), or something. It was an awkward eavesdrop situation. But you couldn't mistake the anguish in her voice when she discussed how hard she'd worked to lose that 20 pounds. And how her husband didn't appreciate it. Or didn't notice? That part wasn't clear either.

I just wanted to hug her and tell her she looked great. I wanted to tell her to stop starving herself because she was being really grouchy with her kids. I wanted to tell her to use all that energy to paint or write or sing or run a marathon or take up tap dancing or read or run for office.

I have no recollection of where I read this, but it hit home so hard on so many levels that I now have it posted above my desk:

This relates to EVERYTHING in my life, but I mention it here because it's what I wanted to say to the woman I eavesdropped on.

I feel like we're being hard on ourselves when, instead of enjoying a few bites of cake, we eat six sweet potatoes. I feel like we're being hard on ourselves when we don't take the time to enjoy a meal. I feel like we're being hard on ourselves when we do the exercise we hate for 20 minutes instead of the one we enjoy (but doesn't necessarily burn as many calories) for an hour. I feel like any time we make a decision because we feel too fat/bad/sad/worthless/out of shape to ask for what we truly want, we are being hard on ourselves.

Whereas working hard on ourselves is enjoying one slice of cake, instead of scarfing down two because we feel "bad" for eating it at all. Or taking the yoga class we love instead of the boot camp we hate - who cares as long as we're off the couch? I feel like we're working hard on ourselves when we realize there's so much more to our attractiveness or worth than what the scale says. I feel like we're working hard on ourselves when we make choices based on our authentic wishes, not because we're afraid to be in front of other people in a bathing suit.

And by the way? I think you look beautiful today. Hugs.

Weighty Wednesday: These Geese

I think the geese look great. (Wait, those ARE geese, right? I'm not really good with bird species. Except flamingos. Because flamingos are awesome.) Who cares that their rear ends are like four times the size of the rest of their bodies? That's the way they are and there's nothing wrong with that.

If only I could say the same thing about my own ass. Or my stomach. Especially my stomach.

But I'm not as enlightened as your average goose*.

I don't hate my body; I'm too old for that kind of bullshit. There is a wide gulf, though, between not hating and being totally accepting. But I would walk across that gulf, even if it was filled with goose* shit, just to accept my body as it is. Think of how delightful it would be to look at a picture of yourself and focus on the fond memory, not of how you should never wear horizontal striped pants again. Or to just wear what you liked, no matter what the size or the stripe direction. Or to not feel bad for eating the extra cookie. Or to be comfortable wearing your bathing suit in public. Or to not worry about being judged for your weight, whatever that weight happens to be.

I don't know why I think I can accept my body now, when I didn't as a young, thin-ish person, except that I'm generally more accepting now than I was in my youth. Also, smarter. Except about birds.

Someone reading this is probably thinking, "BUT WHERE ARE THE DIET TIPS? YOU CAN'T TALK ABOUT WEIGHT WITHOUT GIVING US TIPS FOR LOSING IT!"

That person probably isn't coming back, if for no other reason than for what I'm about to say:

Diets are stupid.

DIETS ARE STUPID.

I'm not saying they can't help you lose weight. Paleo. Nutrisystem. Jenny Craig. Atkins. That diet that Jennifer Aniston's personal trainer recommends. They've all helped someone get the body they wanted. Some of them have probably even had people who actually kept that body long-term.

But in this world, anything you go on - a carnival ride, an airplane, a diet - is also something that you must go off. And for some of us, going off that diet just means making up for all that time you've felt deprived. Or, depending on the severity of the diet, it means making up for all that time your body has actually been deprived. And it means feeling good, or not so good, depending on what the scale says or how your jeans fit or what have you.

This is not a recipe (ha!) for happiness and self-acceptance. Or health, for that matter.

And for a lot us feeling bad leads to over-eating, which leads to dieting, which leads to going off the diet, which leads to gaining weight, which leads to feeling bad, which leads to. . . .

The diet industry making a shit-ton of money and totally gorgeous people feeling bad about themselves because they're not as skinny as Jillian Michaels.

You don't see that happening to geese*, do you?



*Or whatever those are.

Weighty Wednesday: A Box of Waffles

Last summer, I blogged about weight for the first time. And then I got distracted, or possibly I chickened out and I stopped writing about it. If I don't blog about it, I can ignore it. Besides, I wasn't sure that my voice mattered; most of the weight loss posts and articles and pins that I see are about people who've lost 117 pounds, not 17 pounds like I have. Also, they all seem to include people talking about how they don't eat entire boxes of waffles as a side dish anymore.

I mean, I've never eaten a box of waffles as a side dish, or even a meal. By that standard, I should be skinny. And yet. . . .

There I am, hiding behind my children in yet another picture. Lovebug looks thrilled about it, doesn't he?

This whole self-acceptance thing is hard, yo.

So is eating healthier, especially when your colitis flares and you can't eat vegetables, citrus and whole grains. You know what I CAN eat when my colitis flares? Bagels. You know what doesn't shrink your waistline? Bagels.

I've gotten my ass to the gym every week day, at least. 50 minutes of cardio 5 days a week. I've started paying more attention to my heart rate, instead of just following the routine on the machine or trying to keep my pace up. I've been going to the 80% rate, instead of the 65% like I have for the last year.

Sometimes I feel like I want to cry when I get off a machine. You wouldn't think 15% would make such a huge difference, but it does. At least as far as how I feel during and after the workout. Also, I haven't gained any weight on my bagel diet. And all my jeans have gotten super baggy in the waist again.

Someday I will find a pair of jeans that fits me in the hips and the waist. Sure, I haven't since I was 18 and first got hips, but what is life without hope?

Actually, I have a pair of curvy jeans from Kohl's that worked pretty well until recently. I probably need the next size down (woohoo!). . . .except they don't have them anymore (bastards).

I think I'm going to try to check in every Wednesday about the whole weight loss/self-acceptance/exercise/clothes that fit issue. Would you all mind? I don't promise any diet tips or exercise tips or post cohesion, but I will be honest. And realistic.