After spending a lot of time on the internet reading about other people's motivation, I feel motivated to post on my own motivation. Huh? Its okay, you’ll catch up in a second.
What is my real weight loss motivation…that is the question. The answer I tell my children, and trainer and skinny friends? Why, health of course! I don’t care about the number on the scale or what I look like, I just want to be healthy! Yeah, that is a TOTAL crock of shit.
My real motivation? There are three main motivating factors for me to lose 60lbs and not one of them has to do with health.
1. – I want to run into people from the past and not be completely humiliated. I live in a relatively small city (about 200,000 people give or take) so it’s big enough that you can avoid people, but small enough that you occasionally (and inevitably) run into people you used to know but who you haven’t seen in years. The most recent occurrence of this phenomena happened at a Christmas party in December.
I was at a work function that included many other organizations who work in the same industry around town. I was busy schmoozing the usual suspects when from behind me I heard the dreaded, “Christie? Is that you? Do you remember me?....” I turned around and was greeted by a girl that I knew from high school but who I haven’t seen in over 17 years. The worst part? She looked fabulous. She hadn't gained an ounce or aged a day. I stood there talking to her and the whole time I was thinking,
“I can’t believe she is seeing me this fat. She must be an actor because I’m sure it’s not easy to mask the shock and horror of what is my current appearance. Should I mention that I’m fat? Yeah, well...that’s obvious, but is it better to pretend that everything is normal, or acknowledge that I am aware of my fatness? Quick – tell her you have three kids! That should buy you a few pounds, right? Suck it in! Don’t turn sideways…stand up a little straighter and stick your neck out a little....”
It was totally horrifying on many different levels. Not the least of which was that I actually quite liked this girl in high school, and if I wasn’t so preoccupied by being 'outed' for getting so fat we could have reconnected a little more. I know where she works now, so I think I will call her for a coffee date or something. Maybe in a few months. When I’m skinnier.
2. – I want to buy cool clothes before I’m too old to wear them. When I was skinny I was poor, so I wore whatever was available. To have a little money and a skinny body? The mall is my oyster! I don’t need a ton of fancy designer duds, but I would like to be able to shop in any store I like and be reasonable assured they will have my size. I’m on the bubble between the regular people sizes and the fat people sizes. I’m not quite fat enough for the plus size stores, but it’s touch and go on whether the regular people stores will have the one size 14 or 16 left that I can squeeze my ass into.
See, the regular people stores don’t really want the fat people to shop there, so they only order one fat person size. If I don’t get the one larger size they bring in I’m s.o.l. And the fat people stores don’t want the smaller fat people to shop there because they want the super fat people to feel comfortable. Therefore, if I don’t get the one 'small' fat person size they bring in I’m s.o.l there too. Either way I usually get screwed on the clothes front.
3. – I want to go waterskiing. Really, really, badly. Three summers ago we bought a speed boat. There are quite a few lakes within an hours drive from our house, and I grew up on a lake and in a boat so I really wanted one for my family. I have never been a fabulous water-skier, but while it wasn’t pretty, I always managed to at least get up on those skis for a trip or two around the lake. I have tried for three consecutive summers now and I can’t haul my fat ass out of the fucking water.
My husband skis like a champ, as does my 15 year-old daughter. Every summer I try, and for three years now I haven’t gotten close. My family is very patient with me and would be willing to spend all day trying to haul my fat ass out of that lake, but after a few tries I give up due to exhaustion and humiliation. They all laugh and it’s no big deal ‘cause it’s just mom and mom waterskiing would be too funny for words anyway. I am NOT ready to play that role. I do not want to be the fat old lady sitting in the boat with the ugly hat and giant sunglasses reading a shitty romance novel. I want to do more than just handout the sandwiches at lunchtime. I’m 35 years-old for crying out loud! I am going to ski behind my boat this summer so help me GOD.
There are a few other minor motivations such as health and fitness, but they really take a backseat to the three primary motivators listed above. I want to ski behind my boat and wave at a group of people I went to high school with while wearing a great bathing suit purchased at a trendy surf-type store.
That’s it.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Legend of the February Flowers
I have just booked myself and Lena a wonderful three days in the beautiful British Columbia for the first weekend in February! Gleefully taking full advantage of the tanking economy which is resulting in ridiculously cheap airfares, the two of us are going to finally meet the new baby boy born to one of my closest friends last October. This friend fled Saskatchewan many years ago, but we have managed to stay in touch and can usually pull off a visit or two each year. I can hardly wait until I get to grab that new baby and eat his face.
There are a few other reasons I am very excited about this trip, not the least of which is the fact that BC is WARM. Well, it’s Canadian warm. I’m pretty sure Casey in Florida would still freeze her ass off, but for everyone north of Montana it might as well be Hawaii. Also, I don't get much one on one time with Lena, so this trip will be a nice break for the two of us. The only thing left to contend with is the ‘BC Effect’.
For those of you not familiar with the BC Effect, it is a syndrome that inflicts all people that come to the decision to make BC their permanent residence. Once the u-haul crosses the border from Alberta to British Columbia an invisible mist engulfs the head of the soon-to-be resident and alters their molecular structure in a way that makes them forever convinced that BC is indeed the most extraordinary place on the planet. No other square foot of earth on any continent can contend with the enchantment that is British Columbia. I have family, friends, former co-workers and even mild acquaintances who have all moved to BC, and they all suffer from the BC Effect.
Now, I will concede that there are definite advantages to BC. It scores big points for scenery, warm winter weather, an impressive cultural element and the shopping is spectacular. And the people, for the most part, are very positive. Really, really positive. Stepford, positive. Nobody is fat, or smokes, or harms the environment or drives around in an obnoxious oversized pick-up with naked women on the mud flaps. They walk everywhere possible, recycle and eat organic food. It can be quite enjoyable.
The BC Effect does, however, remove all logical perspective and the ability to have a solid base in reality. This manifests itself in many ways including a consistent (albeit subtle and polite) distaste for other locations to live (mostly directed at the province from which the BC Effect sufferer originated), as well as a burning desire to convert the non-believers. I’ve known born-again Christians in my life, and they have the same unwavering conviction found in people with BC Effect.
An example of BC Effect is the legend of the February flowers. Since it’s much warmer in BC than other places in this country their flowers bloom relatively soon into the new year – usually around the middle of February. I have heard about these mystical flowers from every single person I know with BC Effect, and to hear them tell it by February of each year the minute you step out your door step you are greeted by masses of blooming bouquets so exquisite that you are immediately rendered mute by their splendor. These flowers are in fact so amazing, that BC Tourism passes out little packets of kleenex at the airport so the new arrivals can appropriately deal with the aftermath of the exploding orgasm that will inevitably occur once eyes are first laid on the February flowers.
Not being able to resist the temptation of the flower orgasm, my last trip to BC was during the month of February. The airplane ride was the best foreplay I’ve ever had. The building anticipation of seeing the February flowers was extremely overwhelming. I was heading to the Mecca. I was off to the promise land. I was going to get as close to seeing God as any mortal has come before…..
I got off the plane experiencing heights of anticipation I have never known previously and raced outside breathless with expectation.
These, ladies and gentlemen, THESE were the February flowers:
Me: Huh? That sorry little group of crocuses? THOSE are the February flowers?
BC Effect sufferer: Yes! But….. they are flowers! In FEBRUARY!
Me: Oh. Umm..yeah, they’re nice.
BC Effect sufferer: It’s FEBRUARY! And there are flowers, right there! And there is no snow on the ground!!
Me: Yeah, but it’s pouring rain and I’m just as freezing as I was when I left Saskatchewan.
BC Effect sufferer: But, I have flowers at my house too! Just wait until you see them! Flowers! In February!
Me: Hey, yeah….okay. They're great. Ummm……. do you need to borrow my kleenex?
There are a few other reasons I am very excited about this trip, not the least of which is the fact that BC is WARM. Well, it’s Canadian warm. I’m pretty sure Casey in Florida would still freeze her ass off, but for everyone north of Montana it might as well be Hawaii. Also, I don't get much one on one time with Lena, so this trip will be a nice break for the two of us. The only thing left to contend with is the ‘BC Effect’.
For those of you not familiar with the BC Effect, it is a syndrome that inflicts all people that come to the decision to make BC their permanent residence. Once the u-haul crosses the border from Alberta to British Columbia an invisible mist engulfs the head of the soon-to-be resident and alters their molecular structure in a way that makes them forever convinced that BC is indeed the most extraordinary place on the planet. No other square foot of earth on any continent can contend with the enchantment that is British Columbia. I have family, friends, former co-workers and even mild acquaintances who have all moved to BC, and they all suffer from the BC Effect.
Now, I will concede that there are definite advantages to BC. It scores big points for scenery, warm winter weather, an impressive cultural element and the shopping is spectacular. And the people, for the most part, are very positive. Really, really positive. Stepford, positive. Nobody is fat, or smokes, or harms the environment or drives around in an obnoxious oversized pick-up with naked women on the mud flaps. They walk everywhere possible, recycle and eat organic food. It can be quite enjoyable.
The BC Effect does, however, remove all logical perspective and the ability to have a solid base in reality. This manifests itself in many ways including a consistent (albeit subtle and polite) distaste for other locations to live (mostly directed at the province from which the BC Effect sufferer originated), as well as a burning desire to convert the non-believers. I’ve known born-again Christians in my life, and they have the same unwavering conviction found in people with BC Effect.
An example of BC Effect is the legend of the February flowers. Since it’s much warmer in BC than other places in this country their flowers bloom relatively soon into the new year – usually around the middle of February. I have heard about these mystical flowers from every single person I know with BC Effect, and to hear them tell it by February of each year the minute you step out your door step you are greeted by masses of blooming bouquets so exquisite that you are immediately rendered mute by their splendor. These flowers are in fact so amazing, that BC Tourism passes out little packets of kleenex at the airport so the new arrivals can appropriately deal with the aftermath of the exploding orgasm that will inevitably occur once eyes are first laid on the February flowers.
Not being able to resist the temptation of the flower orgasm, my last trip to BC was during the month of February. The airplane ride was the best foreplay I’ve ever had. The building anticipation of seeing the February flowers was extremely overwhelming. I was heading to the Mecca. I was off to the promise land. I was going to get as close to seeing God as any mortal has come before…..
I got off the plane experiencing heights of anticipation I have never known previously and raced outside breathless with expectation.
These, ladies and gentlemen, THESE were the February flowers:
Me: Huh? That sorry little group of crocuses? THOSE are the February flowers?
BC Effect sufferer: Yes! But….. they are flowers! In FEBRUARY!
Me: Oh. Umm..yeah, they’re nice.
BC Effect sufferer: It’s FEBRUARY! And there are flowers, right there! And there is no snow on the ground!!
Me: Yeah, but it’s pouring rain and I’m just as freezing as I was when I left Saskatchewan.
BC Effect sufferer: But, I have flowers at my house too! Just wait until you see them! Flowers! In February!
Me: Hey, yeah….okay. They're great. Ummm……. do you need to borrow my kleenex?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Random Tuesday
It's FINALLY warm outside. It's been about +2 for a couple of days now and people are celebrating. This weekend I saw four people walking outside with shorts on. Snow boots and shorts is an interesting look, but hey - after such a long stretch of tundra hell I don't blame anyone for embracing the shorts. I was also able to have the first conversation with my neighbours since November. Hopefully I'll get to see them again before April. Hell, I even saw a squirrel! Thank you, Mother Nature. I wasn't going to say anything, but you've been quite the bitch lately.
My house is a complete disaster area. I've really got to start cleaning it more often. My last housekeeper quit. Again. I think that should be another New Years resolution - I hear by vow to keep my house clean enough that the maid won't get fed up enough to quit.
My children are driving me crazy. I love them, but sometimes I wish someone would take them away for a couple of days. Why do you have to get divorced in order to have a weekend off here and there? Man, they're just so needy. Mother of the Year - right here.
I have bags of potato chips and giant glasses of coke dancing around in my head. I'm pretty sure if people looked really close at the little space above my head they could see my dancing junk-food bubble too.
I really need to organize my office before I get fired.
J is in the middle of writing finals, and all I can think is that I am VERY happy I never have to write another final as long as I live. She's on the bubble for math, and I really hope she can pull it off. I'm shelling out $30/hr for a math tutor so she better frickn' pass. That will serve me right for not paying attention in math myself, I guess. When she asks me "What good is math anyway?" I'm going to tell her it's important because later in life she will save herself $30/hr twice a week in math tutor fees for her child.
Looking for a fantastic way to torture your teenager? Drop her off at school in a mini-van with 'Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy' blaring from the stereo. Extra points if you add sweet air guitar moves.
Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 3
Well, here we are at the beginning of week three. This week went OK, but similar to last week not perfect. While I didn’t have to contend with anything as horribly dramatic as cheese ball-gate 09, I did have a few food slip-ups. But each time shortly after I started to venture towards the dark side I got myself together and vowed to work harder next time. Story of my life.
At the beginning of this little adventure I decided I was going to contract the services of a personal trainer. I figured that if I had a professional create a program that was designed specifically for me it would go a long way in helping me achieving my goal of permanent weight loss. That, and I was hoping the expense and accountability that comes with meeting this person once a week might actually keep me honest. I didn’t really have a gender preference when selecting a trainer, but I did want someone I could relate to. My mental image of a personal trainer is some perky little nightmare wearing matching pink gym clothes sporting a very high ponytail with her navel on display. You know who I’m talking about - they usually have a little rose or heart tattooed on the small of their back and go by Brittney or Tiffany. I was willing to accept someone like that training me, although I had all kinds of plans to loathe her and make fun of her behind her back. After all, she is stupid and I am smart. That is the natural order of things.
Who I ended up with is not at all like that. Sure, she is an itty bitty thing, but I might have been skeptical shelling out $50/hour to someone who looks, well….like me. She is not at all annoying, and can communicate in complete sentences without inserting the world ‘like’ every few seconds. What I was really worried about (masked of course by my plans to make fun of her) was being judged, and I didn’t feel any judgment coming from Trainer-Lady at all. Even after the first visit when she weighed and measured me. That was a horrible experience. Standing half naked with my arms out having someone pull a measuring tape around all the parts I have become a master at hiding was appalling. I can't imagine what she was thinking while doing that. Was she secretly making fun of me in her head? Was she starting to panic because I could at any minute use my massive girth to squash her to bits and then eat her? Whatever she was thinking, it never showed on her face and at that moment I decided I was going to like her. Trainer-Lady is now the only other living soul on the planet that knows the real deal. I guess I’ll have to really lose the weight now. Or kill her. But I swear I wouldn't eat her.
On the exercise front I put forth a respectable effort, but not stellar. I worked out three times when my goal was four, but in my defense the weather here has been so ridiculous there were days I just couldn’t go anywhere unless it was to report for work or pick up a kid. Most of you have no idea what -40 feels like, and you are damn lucky you don’t. It sucks ass more than any adjective on earth could possibly come close to describing. I HATE it and I can’t believe I live in this province.
I am hoping this week is the week that I really step it up. The weather is supposed to dramatically improve and the days are starting to get just a little bit longer. Soon I expect the light will come on and my inner health freak is going to rise up and be victorious. Hope springs eternal, right?
Right?
I lost 2.4 pounds last week. 56 to go.
At the beginning of this little adventure I decided I was going to contract the services of a personal trainer. I figured that if I had a professional create a program that was designed specifically for me it would go a long way in helping me achieving my goal of permanent weight loss. That, and I was hoping the expense and accountability that comes with meeting this person once a week might actually keep me honest. I didn’t really have a gender preference when selecting a trainer, but I did want someone I could relate to. My mental image of a personal trainer is some perky little nightmare wearing matching pink gym clothes sporting a very high ponytail with her navel on display. You know who I’m talking about - they usually have a little rose or heart tattooed on the small of their back and go by Brittney or Tiffany. I was willing to accept someone like that training me, although I had all kinds of plans to loathe her and make fun of her behind her back. After all, she is stupid and I am smart. That is the natural order of things.
Who I ended up with is not at all like that. Sure, she is an itty bitty thing, but I might have been skeptical shelling out $50/hour to someone who looks, well….like me. She is not at all annoying, and can communicate in complete sentences without inserting the world ‘like’ every few seconds. What I was really worried about (masked of course by my plans to make fun of her) was being judged, and I didn’t feel any judgment coming from Trainer-Lady at all. Even after the first visit when she weighed and measured me. That was a horrible experience. Standing half naked with my arms out having someone pull a measuring tape around all the parts I have become a master at hiding was appalling. I can't imagine what she was thinking while doing that. Was she secretly making fun of me in her head? Was she starting to panic because I could at any minute use my massive girth to squash her to bits and then eat her? Whatever she was thinking, it never showed on her face and at that moment I decided I was going to like her. Trainer-Lady is now the only other living soul on the planet that knows the real deal. I guess I’ll have to really lose the weight now. Or kill her. But I swear I wouldn't eat her.
On the exercise front I put forth a respectable effort, but not stellar. I worked out three times when my goal was four, but in my defense the weather here has been so ridiculous there were days I just couldn’t go anywhere unless it was to report for work or pick up a kid. Most of you have no idea what -40 feels like, and you are damn lucky you don’t. It sucks ass more than any adjective on earth could possibly come close to describing. I HATE it and I can’t believe I live in this province.
I am hoping this week is the week that I really step it up. The weather is supposed to dramatically improve and the days are starting to get just a little bit longer. Soon I expect the light will come on and my inner health freak is going to rise up and be victorious. Hope springs eternal, right?
Right?
I lost 2.4 pounds last week. 56 to go.
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