Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Electronic Work Out

Argh. Such a day. It started out brilliantly enough with a morning outing to 24-Hour Fitness for an 80 minute session on the Tread Climber. With only four machines that are sought and fought over by ardent fellow gym rats, I was thrilled to see that Santa had delivered six or seven of the premier Precor EFX576i Elliptical machines. Next to the Nautilus Tread Climber, these bad boys get my heart rate pumping and sweat glands flowing like nobody's business, so with more machines as an option to my cardio sessions, I won't have to trip old ladies and knock down old men to get to be one of the fortunate four.

Now, that was all fine and good but that is precisely when paradise ended and purgatory began because the rest of the day was spent attempting to get our home entertainment hooked up...television, cable, tivo, slingbox, universal remote and dvd recorder. Beginning after a naively calm and carefree lunch there's been a one hour in-house installation appointment with Circuit City's FireDog tech support, a return trip to Circuit City to return the tivo and the universal remote, a stop at Comcast to trade in my old cable box for a new DVR box, and five hours spent re-configuring the connections I'd just paid to have done by a trained tech from FireDog. As it turned out when he left the phone line was dead, the dvd recorder didn't record, and the slingbox had no sound; none of these being minor points in my little parcel of terra firma.

Given my limited take-no-prisoners approach to electronics I now have everything up and running, which is to say until the cat dashes behind the television, gets dangled in the mountain of cords, and pulls everything loose. Yes, all is running smoothly on all 457 channels but I wish I could say the same for myself. I haven't even one nerve left in my body let alone 457 of them, I'm as grouchy as a rain-soaked cat and I'm fairly convinced that at one point in the evening while I was lying on my back wedged behind the television with eight cords and only six jacks remaining to put them in, I invented a entirely new language. In reflection it had a rather harsh gutteral quality reminiscent of an ancient Nordic dialect calling forth visions of marauding and pillaging Vikings. No offense intended to the Nordic community.

A noteworthy detail is that Dana wasn't seen all night except when spotted silently slipping downstairs to grab her dinner plate only to dart back seconds later to the relative safety and serenity a closed (and bolted?) door. A wise decision given my temporary emotional and mental state.

Despite all that, it's great to be home from the holidays, preparing my own food, working out at my own gym, and being annoyed by my own cats. All this and 457 channels. Sweet.

[Phatgirl Note: The events of today are what are commonly known as "cadillac problems." In other words, when you have food on the table, a bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, a steady howbeit modest income, your health, and loved ones, the ordinary trials and tribs that pop up in a day are little more than annoyances at worse and opportunities to grow and learn at best. Perspective kids, it's all about perspective.]

Monday, December 25, 2006

Christmas Nighty-Nite

Mom's on one couch reading. Dana's on the other napping. I'm on the Lazyboy blogging. Just the end of another Christmas Day and a fine one at that. The full stage production of a family Christmas took place on Christmas Eve with an ensemble cast of 31 siblings, nieces, nephews, great-nieces, great-nephews and an assortment of spouses, girlfriends, boyfriends, significant others and a puppy named Reed. It was a wonderful, joyful, wild, noisy, and slightly chaotic clan gathering making the peace and quiet of this present moment a welcomed end to the holiday fanfare.

Christmas Day as a whole has been on the mellow side beginning this morning. I'm happy to report that Santa was able to locate Dana and I at the Embassy Suites where we're staying because this morning the Diet Coke and Rice Cake we left out for the white-bearded fellow (yes, we did) were gone and lo and behold, there was a stack of presents under the artificial Christmas tree I'd hauled over from Mom's house to our hotel room. As a side note, if you and/or the entire citizenship of Denmark ever runs short on Christmas decorations, just dial 1-800-mymomschristmasstuffisoutofcontrol. She has more than enough for you, every Dane living or dead, and then some.

After opening presents following a thoroughly scrupulous breakfast of scrambled rubber eggs and water tinted with coffee grounds ala hotel and watching the last half hour of "The Christmas Story," (the "You're-Gonna-Shoot-Your-Eye-Out" movie), we headed off with MapQuest directions in hand for Christmas Day worship at a small Lutheran church. There were about 20 people there and they couldn't have been a more hospitable crowd right down to giving Dana and I a gift bag as we departed that included a loaf of homemade banana bread. Now that's a welcome I can get behind! Then it was back to my mom's house for a lunch of turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce and a re-heated plate of everything-else-that-was-leftover-from-Christmas-Eve-dinner, so that we could waddle into the den where we pick up where this blog began.

In the world of training, I managed during the holidaze to get to the gym at dawn on December 23 but haven't done anything since that would even remotely fall under the category of an active lifestyle, let alone exercise. And yes, I miss it and am eager to get my head and hiney and all parts inbetween back to the gym tomorrow upon my return home. The food has been marginally okay. Not great, but okay. The overall quantity of food was fine but the percentage of fat and carbs were at the high end and I feel it. Isn't it weird how your eating can be off for one day and you wake up the next morning fairly convinced you gained 23 pounds overnight, that none of your clothes will fit, and small children will run in fear at your appearance? Maybe it's just me.

Whatever the case may be, that's all I've got to tell you here on Christmas Day evening. Except Merry Christmas, of course. And a very sincere one at that.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Tagged at the Holidays

Jeanne tagged me and I'm not happy about it because my left foot was squarely on safe base! Seeing as it's Christmas and the time for goodwill, peace and all that there, I'm going to acquiesce and play nice. Just don't try it again o' ye who was not born to run.

1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? Holiday or ordinary day, it's four shots of espresso over ice, four Splendas and a splash of whole milk.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? The old man had better wrap them! Unless it's a puppy. Than a bow will do just fine.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Always colored lights. And just let me add a public service announcement that I'm so over those white icicle outdoor lights, so please, by all means, lose them and go back to real single string Christmas lights.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? No. I don't require props to get the desired results.

5. When do you put your decorations up? When the guilt becomes too overwhelming.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Mom's raspberry mold jello with whipped cream. Mom gave my sister and I the recipe years ago and to date neither of us have been able to get the jello to set up properly. Apparently, our Mom is taking the actual recipe with her to the grave.

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child? Christmas at my Grandma and Grandpa's at the dairy. A table loaded down with food, bubblelights on the tree, stacks of presents that reached to my nose, singing "Joy to the World" accompanied by organ music, and Uncle Ulphin disappearing only minutes before Santa would appear to hand out our presents.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
I don't know what you mean and I certainly don't like what you're implying.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Only when no one is looking. As a child I had the habit of carefully peeling the scotch tape off the end of my presents whenever my parents would leave the house to see what I was getting before putting them carefully back under the tree. One year, I discovered a clear plastic bear from Avon filled with bubble bath. I got so excited about it that I poured half the bubble liquid into the bathtub, took a bath, wrapped the half-empty bear back into the box and had it hidden back under the tree before Mom and Dad returned home from eating dinner with their friends. That Christmas as the family gathered around the tree to open their presents, I opened my bubble bath bear (for the second time) and before I could even finish my great "Oh boy, this is a great present, I'm so surprised!" performance, my mom looked at me, looked at the bear, looked at me, looked at the bear, and then hooked her finger in that "get over here now little woman" way. Suffice it to say, I don't know whatever became of the bubble bath bear and the remaining liquidy soap. Christmas after Christmas I keep waiting...and hoping....

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? Colored balls and a weird assortment of this and that collected over the years, along with one handpainted wooden gingerbread man my mom and I painted when I was a little girl. The colored lights have already been established (see 3) although Dana has to string the lights because I get way too frustrated with the whole process.

11. Snow! Love it or dread it? Love it. Miss it. Want it.

12. Can you ice skate? Only if I don't mind going into the holidays with a few broken limbs and a sore behind.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? A little black and white color television from my grandma when I was about nine. I was in heaven.

14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you? I'm going to have to opt for the birth of Jesus and the whole nativity, baby in a manger, angels exalting, shepherds adoring, Son of God in flesh extravaganza. That my little peeps, is the Christmas story and it doesn't get better than that, with all respect to the jolly fat man.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? Mandarin oranges and dates. In childhood it was the three-tiered cookies that looked like little Christmas trees my Grandma made every year.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Going to a candlelight worship service on Christmas Eve.

17. What tops your tree? Nada. Our tree is usually so small that putting anything on the top makes it look rather Charlie Brown-esque.

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Giving without a doubt, not that I've ever turned down a gift...

19. What is your favorite Christmas song? "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and in traditional carols, "Oh, Come All Ye Faithful."

20. Candy canes?
I avoid stripes. They make me look fat.

Merry Christmas from PhatGirlElf

A Special Greeting from Me to You. Not you. YOU!
(You'll want the sound on...and then again, maybe you won't.)

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Monday's Check-In Revisited

D_wn pulled out the measuring tape today and I'm encouraged, particularly the loss of almost five inches around the waist. When I was measured on November 28 my Lean Body Mass had dropped to 129 from 135. which meant I was losing muscle along with the fat as a result of not having enough protein in my diet. Over the past couple weeks by increasing my protein my LBM has gone back up to 133...a good thing.

November 6

  • Body Fat Percentage 37.1
  • Fat Mass 80.13
  • LBM 135.86
  • Upper Arm 14
  • Forearm 10.5
  • Chest 43.25
  • Waist 43.75
  • Hip 49.25
  • Thigh 25.5
  • Calf 17.5
December 20
  • Body Fat Percentage 34
  • Fat Mass 68.68
  • LBM 133.32
  • Upper Arm 13.5
  • Forearm 10
  • Chest 41.5
  • Waist 38.9
  • Hip 46.75
  • Thigh 25.5
  • Calf 17

Monday, December 18, 2006

Monday Check-In

December 11 Check-In

December 18 Check-In

I'm not discouraged by the one pound weight gain since I've been staying on target with both the food and exercise. Call it water weight, trading fat for muscle, or a simple prank of the scale gods, but my jeans are looser and I know I'm doing what I need to be doing so I'm not bothered by it. D_wn will be measuring me in a couple days so we have a final set of measurements for 2006 and hopefully there will be some results there.

While I remain just as diligent around my food choices I haven't been as diligent in logging it at CalorieKing but I'm committed to continuing to do that because awareness around the food is something that can grow fuzzy for me unless I take the additional step after or before eating to writing it down. I can end up forgetting a mid-afternoon snack here or something I added to my lunch there and it all adds up, one bite at a time.

Daily Caloric Intake
Tuesday, 12-12
1700 calories
Wednesday, 12-13
1465 calories
Thursday, 12-14
1395 calories
Friday, 12-15
1498 calories
Saturday, 12-16
1357 calories
Sunday, 12-17
Approximately 1500 calories (didn't use Calorie King today)
Monday, 12-18
736 calories but no dinner or night snack yet

Daily Exercise Log
Tuesday, 12-12
70 minutes on Tread Climber
Wednesday, 12-13
50 minutes with personal trainer, 60 minutes on Tread Climber
Thursday, 12-14
70 minutes on Tread Climber
Friday, 12-15
50 minutes with personal trainer, 60 minutes on Tread Climber
Saturday, 12-16
Zippity doo dah
Sunday, 12-17
Nada mas mi hermanos y hermanas
Monday, 12-18
60 minutes on the Tread Climber, 45 minutes with personal trainer, 5 minutes on Elliptical

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Too Cozy for Cardio

This is Day 2 in the No Gym for Phatgirl saga. Yesterday was consumed with the gingerbread house extravaganza at the church which required no less recovery time than what's recommended for runners following a marathon. If you think I exaggerate then clearly you haven't spent four hours with twenty children and a truckload of sugar. That was Day 1.

Day 2 began at church where between the children's time and the sermon the congregation surprised me with a very sweet rendition of "Happy Birthday" and flowers presented by the children. Not your typical worship service granted, but that it happened on the exact anniversary of a very painful experience in another meant the world to me and was a God-moment if ever there was one. After church Dana took me to the Christmas Dicken's Fair at the Cow Palace in San Francisco as a late birthday gift and then it was home to nap. Oh sure, I could have gone to the gym tonight but that would have required changing out of my jammies that I've had on since early evening, turning off the electric blanket that I'm snuggly tucked under, and missing the season finale of Survivor. All I can tell you is it's cold out there people and I'm just not hip on going back out into it.

But the truth? Though I can't get my body to move out the door to the gym, I miss going. I can't believe I just said that with my out loud voice. Two days of no gym time since I began my committed "until my money runs out" relationship with D_wn, my personal trainer, and I miss it. I think I realized how much working out was meaning to me on Friday when I got teary-eyed during my work out. I was standing in front of the mirror lifting weights when I imagined what the 40 year old Anita would have thought to see the 50 year old Anita in the gym on her birthday feeling so good and looking so good. The 40 year old Anita would never have believed it and that's why the boo-hoo moment. And that's why I can hardly wait to go to the gym tomorrow where my Tread Climber and Personal Trainer will do everything in their combined power to whoop my butt. Ain't gonna happen!

Saturday, December 16, 2006

The Hardest Work Out Yet!

Who needs to pay a personal trainer, when you can simply organize a gingerbread house decorating party for 20 children between the ages of 2 - 11, corral them for games, herd them for lunch, flip a couple dozen grilled cheese sandwiches, benchpress a mega-pot of chicken noodle soup, chase down adolescent boys who repeatedly confuse the altar table for a fort, clean up the mess that remains when preschoolers are given squeeze bags of frosting and a quarter ton of candy, and bada-bing-bada-boom, you've had yourself a full-body work out and the time of your life! Be afraid D_wn, be very afraid.

It was a great day, a really, really great day. A funny, delightful, silly, and adorable day. It simply does not get any better than this, and the best part of it all? I get to be the really nice lady who plays games with them and shovels heaps of candy in their direction and then happily hugs them goodbye as they head home with their parent(s), wired up like the annual Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. The adored hero to preschoolers, the troublesome instigator to parents. It's a tough job but somebody's got to do it.

So what did you do today? And if it involved a nap, I don't even want to hear about it.

Friday, December 15, 2006

There's More than 10 Years Between 40 and 50

Today is my birthday. I'm allowed to be reflective and sentimental. I make no apologies.

I don't remember every detail of my 40th birthday but I remember enough. I was 325+ pounds and uncomfortable in my own skin. I was living in a house that never felt like a home. I had a job that was unfulfilling. I was in a relationship that never felt like love and was doomed from the start. I was unhappy. I was miserable. I excelled in self-loathing and was in every likelihood not the best candidate for a friend. I was, and I put this mildly, a physical, emotional and spiritual car crash. A bad one.

Ten years later and another world, another life. I weigh just under 200 pounds and enjoy moving this body, pushing this body, living in this body. I live in a home that feels like a home; a safe place in the world and sometimes from the world. I have a job that's meaningful and ministry that fulfills me, and I'm blessed beyond measure to be in a relationship that feels like love because it is love; the truest of love. A love I never could have anticipated and would have never had the nerve to ask for had I even known such love was possible. I'm more than happy. I'm overjoyed by my life and grateful for even the messy days, even the knock-you-down-and-suck-the-air-out-of-your-lungs days. I'm awed God has done all this for me, been so generous with me, so thoughtful of me. Thank you. Thank you so much.

And here is a simple thing but a wonderful thing. The best moment of my 50th birthday was this. . .listening to a message on the phone from my mom singing "Happy Birthday." Her voice was raspy and weak and the tune at times a tad off pitch but it would have put the Vienna Boys Choir to shame with it's sweetness.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Sunrise Sweat

I went to the gym this morning. At 5:20 a.m. Were I Catholic I'd call for a priest to perform an exorcism because clearly something is alarmingly wrong with that. Even more alarming is that I enjoyed being at the gym at 5:20 in the morning sweating on my favorite Nautilus Commercial Series Tread Climber TC916, that being the one located the furthest from the mirrored wall right next to the step climbers and conveniently located so that televisions one through fourth are within close visual range. I love my Tread Climber, and the truth be told, I'm pretty sure my Tread Climber loves me. It's just a feeling.

I wore my favorite gym teeshirt, the one I recently bought from Threadless T-Shirts in preparation for turning 50 tomorrow that reads "So far this is as old as I've ever been." I love it so much I bought two. One for the gym and one not for the gym. Of course, I've already mixed them up and so I'm not sure which is which. Kind of like a parent with their twin newborns. Okay, maybe not just like that. I'm not sure if I should tell you why it's my favorite. Maybe that would be too much information. Wait. I forgot it's you I'm talking to and these are the kinds of things we share, being blog buddies and all. Okay, my "So far..." shirt is my favorite for the gym because my sweat really shows in it and I love looking sweaty because it makes me feel so athletically hipslick'ncool. Tell me truthfully, did I cross the line by telling you that? Of course, if I did, it's not as if it would be the first time and all odds suggest it won't be the last. In other words, if you continue reading my blog, you best get accustomed to useless bits of too much information.

So here I am. An hour and a half of cardio behind me, a stop in at the local coffee shop where I just had to say "my usual please", a long hot shower, time spent sipping coffee and talking in bed with my significant other, a bowl of yogurt and fresh raspberries, and a blog entry. All before 8:30 a.m. and the entire day is still in front of me. Sweet.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

The Biggest Loser and a Box of Kleenex

I'm watching "The Biggest Loser" finale on Tivo at the moment and I have no problem admitting I'm teary-eyed and snotty-nosed. These are my people after all. Century people. People who were morbidly, dangerously obese and have lost a 100 or more pounds. We might not have a clubhouse or a secret handshake but we're all connected in a way that's hard to explain, but it boils down to this. We know.

We know what it's like to have looked in the mirror and not been able to see ourselves, who we knew we really were under all the flesh and fat that hid us. We know what it's like to have had the other passengers on a plane watch as we squeezed down the aisle with a look on their faces that said "I hope that huge person isn't sitting in the seat next to me." We know the humilitation of not having fit through a store turnstile or into a restaurant booth, and to have been treated in public as if we weren't there because somehow the bigger we were the more invisible we were. And most of all, we know what it was like to have wanted more than anything to just fit in, to look normal, to have tried everything and anything to lose weight only to find ourselves powerless in the end to change anything. And after trying and trying for so long we had given up. We had said that was how we were and how we would always be. Nothing had worked and nothing ever would, and so we gave up all hope and accepted that we would die fat and we would probably die young, and we only hoped when the end came they wouldn't need to bury us in a piano crate.

And then something happened; a something that was different for all of us. Maybe it was the burning desire to live long enough to accompany our newborn child into their adulthood and not miss a single minute more of their lives than was our destiny. Perhaps a doctor looked us in the eyes and suggested that the next time we wanted a donut we should consider picking up a handgun instead because it would be quicker and less painful in the end. Maybe it was growing so sick and tired of how our lives were going we couldn't bear it another day. Perhaps it was hitting the bottom of despair with a thud and having no other way to go but up and accepting that nothing we had tried on our own worked so we reached out for help and support from others, some to a 12-step recovery meeting, some to Weight Watchers and others to "The Biggest Loser."

So I'm teary-eyed and snotty-nosed because just as I know the pain and humilation they've been through in their lives, I know the joy they're experiencing now in hope restored and a the goal of a lifetime reached. I know when they look in the mirror today they see the person they knew was there all along just waiting to get out. I'm so happy for all of them, for their chance to participate in a life that up to now they've only watched from the sidelines. They've done an incredible thing; so incredible that only those of us who have "been there and done that" can really appreciate...because we know.

Just So You Know. . .

I haven't forsaken the whole notion of marathon walking. Be assured there are no future plans to rename my blog PhatgirlCalorieCounting or PhatgirlGymRat. The truth is that behind the scenes I've actually been wrapping my little pea brain around getting ready for my upcoming two half-marathons in April and July and my second stab at the Portland Marathon in October. This is what I've done to prepare:

  1. I've registered for all three events.
  2. I've booked hotel reservations for all three events.
  3. I've reserved a portable refrigerator (mother of all necessities) for all three hotels at all three events.

And then there's actually training for the events, she said while slapping her forehead in mock astonishment, and that's why last night I pulled out my worn torn but never forlorn copy of Marathoning for Mortals by the Most Penguin John Bingham and plotted out my training schedule for 2007. Let me just say two things. Two things for now. Later. More. Much more.

    Thing Number One: My training schedule for the coming year is different from my previous training. Most significantly, there's only one 20-mile training walk instead of the two 20-milers I did last summer and rather than only having two weeks between the 20-miler and the marathon, I'll have three weeks. I could just about do a happy dance over thing Number One. Actually, I'm going to step away from the computer for a moment to polka. I'll be right back.

    Thing Number Two: Okay, follow this little sychronistic happening. When I track my training schedule backward from the date of the marathon in October to the half-marathon in July my long distance walk for that weekend is 12 miles, and when I work forward from the April half-marathon to the July half-marathon there are just the right amount of weeks to keep to an exact training schedule. Smooth as glass baby, smoooooth as glass.
So there you go. While D_wn, my Personal Tyrant, rules my universe at the present, in the future I will return to the hills and dells and trails with hoofers pounding the pavement.

By the way, Dana told me today that I needed to blog more regularly or my fanbase would disappear. You wouldn't abandon me. Would you?

Monday, December 11, 2006

Monday Check - In

November 20 Check-In

December 11 Check-In

Weekly Caloric Intake and Exercise Log
While I continue to log every calorie in (food consumed) and calorie out (toil and sweat) on, I won't bore you with the play by play day by day, but will instead dazzle you with these little stats:

Tuesday, December 4 through Monday, December 11
1400-1850 calories per day
60 minutes cardio on the Nautilus Tread Climber and 100 crunches per day

That's what I'm talkin' about! So, it looks like I'm averaging a weight loss of about 1.0 - 1.5 pounds a week and while that wouldn't keep me above the yellow line on "The Biggest Loser" I'm content with the progress. Content and hopeful in that this might be the time when Phatgirl finally sheds the surplus. And on that happy thought I'm calling it a night Boys and Girls.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Catalog Chaos

Dear Land's End, Eddie Bauer, PotteryBarn, Nordstrom's, Levenger, Savannah's Candy Kitchen, Solutions, Garnet Hill, Bloomingdale's, Hammacher Schlemmer, Harry & David, Hickory Farms, Monterey Bay, Plow & Hearth, Williams Sonoma, Sony, Dell Computers, Appleseeds, Carol Wright Gifts, Abbey Press, Frontgate, Sharper Image, Red Envelope, Hallmark, Lennox, Chiasso, Crate and Barrel, Popcorn Factory, Disney Store, Hershey's, Omaha Steaks, House of Almonds, Vermont Country Store, Lane Bryant, Silhouettes, Roaman's, Sierra Trading Post, Touch of Class, Ross-Simons, Current, Museum Store Company, Barrons, Oriental Trading, Discount School Supply, Kipp Brothers, ShindigZ and Lillian Vernon,

Stop. Sending. Me. Catalogs.

Have I ever bought a single item from your catalogs? Have I ever phoned one of your operators who are always standing by, read you the customer code off the mailing label conveniently located in the pink, red, green, yellow, blue or gray box, referred you to the page number where a desired item was located and then read the 23 digit item number printed in font type so miniscule that an ant standing in the center of the 23 digit item number would need a magnifying glass to decipher it? That's right. I never have and I never will.

Stop. Sending. Me. Catalogs.

And for those of you merchandising mavens who are under the impression that a colony of individuals live in my house whose names happen to contain the same letters of the alphabet as mine but in varying order, let me assure you right now, there is no one at my home by the name of Aneeta Cadnaugh, Danita Husby, Anita Cadhusey, Anita Cadonay-Hooseby, Atecka Cadnerry-Houseby, Anna Calonua-Husbey, or whatever other deviation of my name you have slaughtered beyond the point of absurdity. Even if such a group of people existed, since we all happily share the same letters of the alphabet wouldn't you think it in our collective nature to be able to share one copy of your catalog? And by the way, as long as we're on this, I'm not Miss or Mr. and if I heard someone shout "Occupant!" or "Resident!" on the street I wouldn't turn around and say "What?!" because those are not my name.

Stop. Sending. Me. Catalogs.

I give you credit. You are relentless. Three identical catalogs sent on three different days. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Are you so naive as to think I might have regret I didn't take the opportunity with the first copy you sent to purchase something that would complete my life and so now, in your good mercy you're giving me another chance? Pay attention here. Read carefully so you miss nothing. There was nothing I wanted in your catalog the first time you sent it. I have not changed my mind.

Stop. Sending. Me. Catalogs.

Stop sending me catalogs that are exactly the same as the one you sent me a month ago except for the new cover you've slapped onto the front. YYes, I noticed and no, you're not fooling me! Stop depleting our forests with catalogs that never get further than the recycle bin that waits open-mouthed to consume them whole. Stop making me get soaked to the bone by forcing me to wrestle your mangled catalogs out of my mailbox in the pouring rain. Stop giving people the impression that the true meaning of Christmas revolves around merchandise and spending and getting. What I'm trying to say is,

Stop. Sending. Me. Catalogs.

Oh, and could you please have someone from your online store send me an electronic receipt for the item I ordered off your website yesterday? Thank you.

Anita Cadonau-Huseby

Monday, December 04, 2006

Monday Check - In With a Major Detour

I was there at the appointed time. D_wn, the Glutes Goddess, the Abs Administrator, the Perveyor of Pain, the Sargeant of Sweat was not. I was informed she had a fever or so the story goes. But I wonder. Could it be she has come to fear me? Let's just say that after an hour of cardio the other day, followed by 40 minutes of core training, I probably could have responded with a little less aggression when she suggested I conclude my morning with....the plank.

The plank. Who is the sick son-of-a-gun who thought this one up? I mean seriously. Either lay down or get up off the ground but make a commitment one way or the other! Oh fine, maybe the rest of you perky little runner types are all over this bad boy but for a phatgirl like me, .....the plank is nothing short of sixty seconds of misery a la elbows. I really don't think it's good to do anything that makes your glutes burn so intensely that you find yourself looking over your shoulder for a man in a flame retardant suit wielding a blowtorch. Let me offer you a piece of advice. If you're doing something that burns that badly, S-t-o-p. I-t! Besides, around forty seconds into.......the plank noises start coming out of my mouth that are disturbing at best. I suppose one could liken it to the death rattle of a lost soul tied to four stakes in the mid-day sun of the Kalahari Desert in Southern Africa at the very second they glimpse a ravenous cheetah approaching from the east and a wild-eyed leopard with an undenible agenda moving in from the west. Imagine the sub-human noise a person in such a predicament would produce and that's phatgirl from 40 through 60 seconds of......the plank. Grown men have been known to cower and weep uncontrollably at the sound.

And my point in all this, aside from listening to the clickity-click of my own keyboard that is, is to suggest that D_wn had no fever but that she was merely avoiding the unavoidable. That is, as long as she insists on....the plank.

While I didn't get on the gym scales today and thus have no weight stats, here's the rest of my check-in and people, it's so thrilling that if you're operating heavy-machinery while reading this, it's advised you pull over to the side of the road and turn the engine off before continuing.

Weekly Caloric Intake and Exercise Log
Monday, 11-27
1092 calories, 60 minutes on Tread Climber, 50 minutes cross-training

Tuesday, 11-28

1411 calories, 60 minutes on Tread Climber

Wednesday, 11-29

1423 calories, 60 minutes on Tread Climber, 45 minutes cross-training

Thursday, 11-30
1173 calories, 60 minutes on Tread Climber

Friday, 12-1

1475 calories, 40 minutes on Tread Climber, 50 minutes cross-training

Saturday, 12-2

1261 calories, rest day

Sunday, 12-3
1490 calories, 60 minutes on Tread Climber


  1. I need more calories. It's been recommended I consume 1485 calories for three days in a row and then 1900 on day four. Rinse. Repeat. I'm not intentionally coming in on the low side but by the time evening comes I'm not wanting to dump in calories just to dump them in. As a solution, I'm probably going to try and eat a little more than my usual yogurt and fruit breakfast, probably by adding in some grain.
  2. The good news is that in terms of the Three Amigos (carbs, fat, and protein) I'm falling right into the recommended percentages though the protein percentage could still be a wee on the higher side.
  3. As you might have already guessed D_wn is adorable, funny, professional, and very motivating. In other words, she's ideal as a trainer but much too Pollyanna for a blog and so I take creative license whenever the mood strikes and the mood strikes without ceasing. Maybe if she's drop.....the plank, I would be willing to negotiate a more favorable portrayal in the future. Until that time, she will remain so much blog fodder.

Friday, December 01, 2006

The Irony Of It All

Later this month I'll be turning 50. No big deal, just another year. I'm looking good and feeling good. In short, I'm happy and peppy and bursting with love.

And then it happened. Today in the mail was my formal invitation to join the AARP.

And here I am, still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.