Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The times, they are a changin'

So this weekend I hung out with my friend, Kelly - as I wrote about in my last post.

I noticed two major things that were significantly different than when we hung out and went skiing in years past...

1) We eat and drink differently.

In years past, we'd meet up at least twice a year...and during those times we'd throw caution to the wind and decide to eat and drink whatever we'd like. She came with that same mindset...and to be fair, maybe she saved her calories/points for that. It doesn't make a difference to me what other people eat or drink. But as she ordered eggs benedict, I realized I didn't want the same thing. Just because she was ordering something rich and tasty didn't mean that I had to order something equally as damaging in calories JUST BECAUSE she was.

Likewise, when we had lunch on the mountain, I finished each meal with half of a package of candy (Skittles one day and peanut M&M's the next) because I wanted something sweet and that is what they had available. She didn't want sweet stuff, but she helped herself to more glasses of wine/beer.

It was nice to be able to eat or drink what I wanted and not feel like I had to match it to anyone else.

I did eat and drink more calories than I normally would've in my day to day life. But I didn't go as overboard as I have in the past. And to me, that is progress.

2) I like exercise.

If you've never been skiing, it might suprise you to learn that when you ski down the hills, it's not a hill all the way to the bottom. In fact, towards the end of some "runs," it's actually rather flat. The only way to get to the next lift or to the lodge is to use your poles to propel you forward. You really have to dig in - putting your poles out in front of you and using them to pull you (on your skis) forward.

It's great exercise.

I used that time to really get a good workout in. I'd pole for a little while and then crouch in a squat so I had as little wind resistance as possible...which meant that I went faster.

Personally, I loved it. I was able to do the squatting on the slow spots and the dipping while skiing because I have built up my muscles by running, yoga, and strength training. I'm proud of what my body can do and was a bit disappointed when my friend asked if we could do different routes because she didn't like it.

I had a great weekend - and it was exactly what I needed and wanted.

Good times, good food, good conversation, and more sleep than I thought I could get.

Still, when it was done, I looked forward to cuddling next to Joe at night. Last night he talked on the phone with a friend of his while I was curled up next to him reading a book. It felt divine and was the perfect cap to a great weekend.

What's next? Well, today it's in the 70s here in Denver and I've packed my running gear so that I can run for a few miles at lunch.

My life feels great right about now.

Friday, March 26, 2010

My Great Escape

This weekend, my best friend is coming into town to ski...and it seems like I always say it when she comes, but she couldn't have come at a better time.

I'm ready to get away. I'm ready to de-stress. I'm really to feel everything and nothing all at once.

My therapist has encouraged the idea of a "safe place." It sounds SO cheesy, but the idea is that when you get stressed or overwhelmed, you can already pick out a place or action that you enjoy doing to help your mind take a break.

I tried to think of meadows. I even tried thinking of mountains. But the place that I feel most free and safe is the slopes.

I was born in Colorado and I learned to ski at a young age. While I've never been a contender for the Olympics, I'm a relatively good skiier. And other than a few times when I was too cold, I have a great time.

There's nothing like the feeling that I get when I ski. I push off and let gravity and my legs do their thing. It's a few minutes of peace - where I feel like I can get away from whatever it is that I want to.

I feel empowered, excited, athletic, and alive.

Pair that with a bottle of wine to share in the evenings, the opportunity to talk about whatever I want while getting thoughtful and non-judgemental feedback? Well, it's divine.

I mean, Joe's great. But he's not Kelly. He's not someone that has shown me time and time again that she loves me as unconditionally as any person can. We don't have the history. I don't have to explain myself or apologize with Kelly. I just am me. And she is who she is.

So this weekend is all about my best friend and me.

I plan to forget about the house I'm selling, the house that I'll eventually buy (which I have yet to find), and my job.

I know that when I drop her off at the airport on Monday evening, I'll undoubtedly feel a sense of loss. I wish that she and I lived closer so that we could see each other more than twice a year. But I'll also feel a calm that I rarely feel at other times during the year.

This weekend I'm escaping into a much needed place of comfort.

I can hardly wait.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010


If I seem lighter these days, it's not just that I've sold my house with, what seems like, a stable buyer.

It's that I lost 4.6 pounds last week.

To be fair, I think that the weight that I had gained (4.2 pounds) the week before, probably wasn't overly accurate. The week before I had just drank a bunch of water before weighing in because I wasn't thinking. And yesterday, I didn't have much to eat throughout the day as I was really busy.

Basically, I probably weighed in heavier the week before than I actually was...and I probably weighed in lighter last night than I actually am.

But I did gain weight the week before, and I did lose weight this last week.

So what changed?

Well, first, I practiced mindful and intuitive eating. I picked food choices that were better for me - I tried to remember that veggies and fruit should be eaten daily. I ate protein at every meal - even if only just a bit.

I watched my portion sizes. Every time Joe and I went out to eat, I only ate half of my food. Every time. In fact, at our meal on Sunday night, when I noticed that I was nibbling fries off my plate (even though I didn't like the taste of them at all - our waitress was just bad at service) I literally pushed the plate to the other side of the table so I wouldn't be tempted to mindlessly eat.

I asked myself what I really wanted when prompted with dessert options. And I respected and honored those options.

I got sleep when I needed to. I talked on the phone to friends or in person to Joe when I wanted comfort. Even if I didn't eat perfectly each day, I moved past it. I went on. I recovered.

In summary, I listened to ME.

It feels good; to trust yourself; to honor yourself; to love yourself.

Double Yippee!

Hello there! :)

So, first of all, I'm busting with excitement to tell you that after less than 7 days on the market, my house was officially under contract. I came away from it making a little money - even after commissions.

I'm ecstatic!

This decreases so much pressure on me, it's not even funny. I mean, my place is TINY. 744 square feet of tiny. So really, it's itty bitty. To give you an example, the following shot shows basically my whole place.

The picture is taken with the person standing at the front door. To the left is my bedroom. Behind the daisy paintings is the bathroom. The second bedroom (which is bout 8' x 8') is on the left behind my bedroom - and the room with the red wall in the back? Yes. That's the kitchen. The light at the back of the house is the light that comes through the back door.

That's my WHOLE place - in basically one shot.

And oh, the kitchen. THIS is the entire counter top space I have:

Not exactly conducive to cooking or baking. Things I actually like to do.

So I'm excited about my new place...wherever that might be. My buyer of this place is a single female and I hope that she loves it as much as she seems to. I hope she'll be happy in it. I hope it's good to her.

As for where I'll be moving to, well, that's a tricky question with a surprisingly not-so tricky answer. See, the buyer wants to close on April 20th...which is just 4 weeks away. And while that's exciting, it also doesn't leave much time for me to find a place that I love.

When I moved into my current place, it was because I was downsizing. I didn't know where to move, really. I didn't know what I wanted to do. I thought I'd be okay in a place that small. I thought I could make it work. I thought I could change me. I mean, it's super cute and in a trendy part of town. Who wouldn't love it? Why shouldn't I not love it?

But I didn't love it. Not really. And since I've been in it, I've made excuses for it. I've only had two people over to my house for dinner. That's it. Every time my mom, sister, or best friend has come in, we've fought because the place is SO small. With my 160 pound Great Dane added to the mix, we literally trip over one another.

I remember the first night I spent in that place, talking to my mom on the phone. I told her that I thought I had made a big mistake. I was worried.

And if I'm being honest with myself, I've been beating up myself for buying it. The place, without the light that I crave, depresses me. I apologize for my place - it's smallness, it's shared walls, and it's lack of light. I make excuses to not have people over.

My place and I are not a good fit.

This time around, I'm determined to not settle. I'm determined to be proud of where I live. I'm determined to love it.

I'm going to find a place of my own - one that has two real bedrooms, where the second one has enough space to put a guest. I'm going to find a place that has quirky character, but has good light (don't let the above pictures fool you, this place is DARK - it only has four small windows in the whole place).

Because I want to have the house that I want, I know I'll be moving to a much less trendy and chic part of Denver. I'm okay with that - as long as it's safe enough to run outside.

But that place, in the price range I can afford, might take a while to find. So what to do in the meantime?

I'll be living with Joe. He offered and I accepted. It may be for a few weeks and it may be for a few months. I don't know. But I know we'll figure it out.

During the past week and a half, I've only spent 2 nights at my house anyway. We're in his 1000 square foot loft in downtown Denver, sharing a bathroom, and we are still in love. Still happy.

Granted, it's only been a week and a half, but we've enjoyed it. And I'm confident that we'll enjoy it in the same way when I need to stay with him.

At the end of that time, when I find a place of my own? Well, if the living with him goes as well as I believe it will? Well, I'll ask HIM to move in with ME.

I feel at peace with this decision.

The future...I can't wait to see what it brings...

Friday, March 19, 2010

Oh, Baby...

Internet, I confess: I'm envious.

Just now I read Fat Bridesmaid's post where she talked about how her friends are preggo and she is happy for them but doesn't want a baby for herself (at least right now).

And folks...I am SO not her.

In fact, I'm so not her that I kind of wish I WERE her. In a lot of ways, I think it'd be easier to have her mindset.

See, my desire to want to have a baby is, at times, so strong that I worry that others can hear my biological clock ticking.

I sigh over pictures of dooce's baby (who wouldn't??), I keep pictures of my friend's babies on my fridge, I proudly display their kids' drawings up in my cube, and I rush over to hold a baby when any friend indicates that that's a possibility.

Clearly, I've got baby on the mind.

My therapist says that this is a biological urge and that there is nothing wrong with wanting kids. And at 32, I want them badly before I'm 35 (for the health of myself and my babies).

I feel, in my heart, that I will be a mom - in one way or another. I know that the risk of me being able to get pregnant increases as I get older. Like any sexually active person, I've pretty much only tried to NOT get pregnant, so I don't even know if I *can* have a baby.

But OH do I want one.

I'm not really worried about it. I mean, I don't want one so badly that I'd get off my birth control and trick Joe into having a baby with me. Just the thought of that is horrible. And I am happy in my current relationship - it's building in a pace that I'm happy with and I hope is going somewhere.

Truthfully, I feel that a baby is in my future and I'm trying to trust that the things that I'm learning now, when I'm not a mom, are preparing me to be the best mom I can be. I hope that they inherit my freckles rather than my binging habits. I hope they get my sense of humor rather than my intense desire to worry about things beyond my control.

And having a baby? That's a whole lot of beyond my control. So I'm trying to not worry about it.

But just so you know, I want one. Actually, as long as we're being honest, I want two, but I'll try not to be greedy.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


Yesterday I went to my Weight Watchers meeting for the first time in two weeks.

I gained 4.6 pounds.

To be fair, I believe that I had actually gained quite a bit more and then started losing the last few days, but hey - gaining 4.6 pounds was pretty accurate. So now, I'm at 49.6 pounds down, which is very much in the wrong direction of where I want to be heading.

I do want to be thinner. I do. So why can't I do it? Why am I going back to choices that aren't good for me? Why am I eating out - and why am I deliberately ordering more (not quite a full on binge, but it's close) than what I usually do? What the heck is going on??

This actually was the topic for my meeting with my therapist last Thursday. I was befuddled - and it wasn't the first time. This is the trend my life and it literally confuses me! Is it self-sabotage? WHAT is it??

I explained it to her...I explained how I feel a lot of apathy surrounding my current condition. I explain that I'm not beating myself up about the food choices I'm making...I just wish that I was able to have the intestinal fortitude to actually follow through with my plans and with my goals.

If I continue to follow the trend, I'll give up on my weight loss efforts and gain the rest of the weight I've lost back...plus more. I'll throw up my hands, say that it's not worth the money I'm throwing into it and just GIVE UP.

But I don't want to do that. I don't. So what gives?

After an hour, I believe I have a piece of it figured out. It's that I want decadence in my life.

I'm surrounded by worry in my life right now. I'm surrounded by obligations and frustrations - both at work and at home.

I don't know what is going to happen. I feel out of control.

I'm running from errand to errand. I'm shuttling my dog around town to get her looked at by various vets. I'm so busy at lunch that I'm not running. I'm exhausted when I get home so I don't exercise then either. And cooking when I get home? Come on! That's the *last* thing I want to do.

I want to be pampered. I want to numb all of the obligations. Hell, I want to numb everything.

Because the thing is, after a week of me eating completely crazily (hello, two boxes of Thin Mints, I'm looking at you), I didn't *feel* any better. I felt sluggish. I felt frumpy. I was disappointed. And the food? It didn't allow me to check out as completely as I remembered being able to do so in the past.

My therapist described it as me living so completely aroused (not sexually, come on people!) by all of the events in my life that I'm trying to figure out ways to decrease the arousal. It's like I'm an ADD person looking for ways to relax and try to concentrate on just one thing.

So since I can't check out, I guess I'll decide to check in.

She gave me some pose ideas from yoga that help relax the brain (I'm happy to divulge them if you're interested).

The weather appears to be cooperating, so I'll be able to get the runs in that I so clearly need at this time in my life.

And, as much as I hate it, I'm having to remind myself that moderation is necessary. I *can* have the dessert I want, I just can't have all of it every day PLUS the gluttonous choices that I've been eating for the meal. And chances are, that's not really what I want anyway, not if I really tapped into what I want.

I put it into practice a bit this weekend. Friday night, after what felt like the longest week in history, I hung out with Joe. We walked around aimlessly downtown until he figured out where he wanted to eat (I didn't have a preference) and we eventually settled on a place. I had a sushi roll and a salad, because that's what I wanted.

At the end of the meal, Joe was still hungry (he usually is) and decided to order some dessert. On the menu was my favorite type of dessert - a brownie/cookie type thing that would be warm and chewy with ice cream and chocolate/caramel topping. He suggested splitting it - saying that he really wanted dessert.

I stopped.

I thought for a minute.

And then I said that I really just wanted a glass of wine. I wanted to unwind from the day - I wanted to sip a glass and really enjoy it.

He, in turn, decided that if he was going to have a dessert that he'd rather have something that he really liked. So we went to a restaurant that had his dessert choice and wine for me.

It was great. Moreover, it was healthier. As a bonus, it was me, honoring myself and my own wishes.

This week, of course I hope to lose weight. Of course, I hope to have my eating and exercise more back on track. But what I really hope is that I take the opportunity to listen to myself and eat when I'm hungry, relax when I need to relax, and take care of myself more better than I have been.

Because, in truth, my efforts to pamper myself by overeating rich and decadent foods has NOT taken care of myself. It isn't nearly as nurturing as I thought it had been. It's so nice to use a moment or two to think about what you actually want and then decide to have it...THAT feels nurturing.

In fact, THAT feels decadent.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Running o' the Green...err...Running in the White

This past week has been a doozy for me. But I think that I got out of my unhealthy mindset and turned my healthy mindfulness back on. I'll write more about that later, though.

What I wanted to report back was that this weekend I ran my very first 7K.

To be honest, I didn't want to. I thought of eleventy hundred reasons I didn't want to...eleventy hundred reasons of why I shouldn't have to.

To start, I've never run a 7K. Ever. Not even on my own (i.e. not during a race). In fact, I've never even run 4 miles in a row, so running 4 and a half? What was I thinking?

Also, last week (you know, the week where I ate like complete crap) resulted in a gain of 5 pounds. FIVE POUNDS! And I only ran once - and that was on Friday at around 2.8 miles. Not exactly the best lead up to my first 7K. That was a good reason to quit.

When I checked the weather report the night before, it indicated that it would be in the 20s for the race and would be snowing in the middle of it. Are you kidding me? No WAY am I going!

I set my alarm for the next morning anyway. I took the dog for a walk to do her business. And I decided to "nut up." I got on my gear, took a quick picture of myself in the elevator on the way down to the street, and took a bus to the race start line.

Only aparently, 50 thousand other people had the same idea. I'm not kidding you. They announced that we had over the capacity of Coors Field already registered for the race. And I was one of about two thousand that hadn't yet received my number and timing chip - so I had to wait in a crazy long line. In fact, the line was so long (and poorly managed), that I didn't even get to start the race on time. I didn't even get to run with all of the walkers that started their race 15 minutes after mine started.

Surely that was reason enough to quit, right? I didn't get to have the high of starting in a group of people. I didn't get the adrenaline bump that you get when you start races. AND I knew that my boyfriend was at home, warm, in bed, and would love to snuggle with me. I already had the t-shirt. No one would know.

But no. I was here. Who cares if I don't get my official time? I mean, it's not like I was going to PR (personal record) the thing, right? So I ran it anyway.

I ran through literally thousands of people that were walking - people that were walking with their dogs, pushing their kids in strollers, or in general being zig-zaggedy about how they were walking. I added a lot of mileage just running around people.

I ran up some major hills with some really tough gradation (see this post to read about my first biking experience on one of those hills). Of course, this meant that I got to run down the same hills (which sounds like more fun than it actually is).

In the middle of it, my left foot had a horrible pain in my arch - almost like it was cramping up. I tried to run through the pain, but it eventually hurt so bad that I went to the side of the road, untied my shoe, and massaged it - hoping to ease it's pain. After about 45 seconds of that, I tied up the shoe and continued running. And I didn't stop my iPod at all (I run with Nike+ software -which allows you to pause your workout at times like these when you're...well...pausing. That means that you could technically cut out the non-running time to get a more accurate pace and time).

So I ran...mostly. I walked, two times - when the hills were so tough and my arch was cramping so badly that I needed to take it easy - but each time, it was for about 15-30 seconds.

See the even pace and then the decline at the end? I actually ran a lot faster (covered more distance) at the end. Because Nike+ actually measures the distance by number of steps (which you can calibrate) it thinks that my longer stride (and therefore more time between steps) is me running slower. Basically, it just means that I probably need to calibrate it again. The distance was longer than a typical 7K because I actually started the time when I started running, which was (stupidly) well before the start line of the race.

And at the end? It was snowing. My fingers were freezing and I couldn't wait to get home, get a hug, and hop in a hot shower. So it wasn't a "running of the green" as much as it was a "running in the white." :)

I'm proud that I finished. I'm proud that I completed something that I wanted to do. I'm proud that despite a bunch of reasons to quit, I didn't.

I accomplished a goal yesterday. And it feels great.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Busy bee

I can't believe all of the stuff that I've done this past week.

Since you missed it, here's a recap:

  • Applied for (what feels like) 75,000 jobs
  • Received (what feels like) 75,001 rejection letters from various potential employers
  • Fought with a co-worker such that he is flying in (he lives out of state) to have a mediated discussion tomorrow morning
  • Sold my beautiful cherry wood sleigh bed because it wasn't as functional as one I bought at IKEA
  • Realized the headboard that I bought at IKEA does not fit my bedroom
  • Cried
  • Figured out a different way to make a headboard work in the master bedroom
  • Called my furnace guy two more times to come by and fix the ever breaking furnace in my house. This time, it should be fixed for good. (knock on wood)
  • Called an electrician to come out to my house and fix a light fixture in the basement that hasn't worked since I bought the house
  • Realized I must have a LOT of spiders in the basement because HOLY COW there are tons of spiderwebs!
  • Cried again
  • Rented a shop vac to get rid of all evidence of spider factory down in the basement
  • Rented a truck because the big stuff won't fit in my MINI
  • Made (what feels like) eleventy hundred trips to the storage unit to store literally half of my stuff so that my house looks more spacious.
  • Cut my finger on something
  • Caught the previously mentioned cut finger on EVERYTHING
  • Used paint thinner to take the "frosted window look" faux finish off all of my windows
  • Touched up all of the walls in my house
  • Touched up all of the trim on the exterior of my house
  • Washed my huge dog
  • Washed the huge dog's bed
  • Realized this morning that my dog either has yet another bladder infection *or* she's incontinent because she peed on said clean bed. FANTASTIC.
  • Washed the huge dog's bed (in progress)
  • Took said dog to the vet's office
  • Signed paperwork to put the house up for sale - tomorrow it will officially be listed!
  • Got all of the huge dog's stuff together so that it will be an easy transition to drop off and pick up the dog every day as long as the house is on the market. My place is 750 square feet. My dog is a 180 pound Great Dane. I don't think she'll help sell the house...
  • Found out that my boyfriend's grandpa will be having heart surgery on Friday. He's in his late 80s and is very frail.
  • Worried about whether having the dog over at my boyfriend's is a good idea - especially with all that he has going on.
  • Realized that I don't have many other options that are not really costly for the dog.
  • Cried again.

I know that after tomorrow morning I can officially breathe a bit easier. The co-worker who repeatedly does not show me respect will be here and we'll be able to hopefuly meet in the middle about some key things that make my job yucky. I know that my house will be as ready as it ever will be to be sold. And I know that having her with a day of antibiotics to clear up the UTI (which I hope that's all it is) will allow her to be potty trained during the day tomorrow.

I'm nervous about what is to come, but I feel like good things can and will happen. I need to belive that.

I know that I haven't done a great job with managing my stress levels. I weigh more than what I did two weeks ago and the idea of getting the poundage off seems next to impossible right now. I'm eating things out of convenience and (if I'm to be 100% honest) out of comfort.

I have my first 7K this weekend and have run 0.0 miles this week. ZERO! I'm sad about that, but events this whole week have kept me from being able to run at lunch - and then on the way home I've had meetings with the furnace guy, electrician, or realtor. By the time those appointments are completed, it's 7-8 at night and I still had a whole bunch more work to do on my house. Assuming my dog has a bladder infection, my lunch will be spent going home and letting her out to potty so that she won't have to hold "it" any longer than 4 hours.

If I play my cards right, tomorrow evening I can run - even if it's at the gym. I know that that will help me feel more with it. I know that it will help me take care of myself. And I know that it will help prep me for the run this weekend. I really, really, really want to run the whole thing.

I miss blogging. I miss running. I miss feeling peace. These things run together for me.

Hopefully, starting tomorrow, I can at least get into a schedule - if only for a little bit.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Picture this...

This summer marks seven years since I've been in Denver.

To even write that seems impossible - mostly because it means that I'm older than I remember I am. See, a large part of me still feels like I just graduated from college. And oh my gosh, I just had a vision of myself, at 18, rolling my eyes at the old fogies who were in their 30s thinking that they were still young.

All I'm saying is I *feel* young.

Anyway, 7 years ago, I smartly decided to get a Colorado drivers license. I couldn't wait to get rid of my Oklahoma drivers license and somehow getting a Colorado one made me feel more...well...Colorado-y.

Anyway, one day that I was wearing a suit, I decided to pop in to the DMV and get a new one. I stepped up, got my picture taken, and gave the guy all of my pertinent information.

That was almost 7 years ago. I've been living at my new address for over two years and I still haven't gotten a new one.

The thing is, I want a new drivers license. The picture from that day is one of the worst pictures of me. The address is wrong and I always worry when I get pulled over (which, admittedly has only been once since I moved) that they'll throw me in jail for not having an updated one. Also, my hair is now red - and the hair God gave me is blonde. So in that picture, I have blonde hair (which looks sort of greasy in it) and everytime I go through the airport, one of the TSA agents will usually comment on how much prettier it is now versus then.

So why don't I just go out and get a new one already?

I want the number that I tell the DMV guy for my weight to actually *be* my weight. And until that happens, I'm unwilling to get a new one - even though it's unlawful to wait.

I want to be able to proudly hand over my license and know that all information on there is true, not just my address. I want it so badly, I can taste it. And every time I have to pull out my license and see the old address and the old me, I get motivated all over again.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Shameful Shopping

A few days ago, I read my friend, The Babe's, blog. The Babe is fantastic, sweet, funny and a brilliant writer to boot. She just had gastric bypass surgery and is learning how to adapt to her changes. And can I just say that she has lost a LOT of weight in the past month and I'm sure looks fabulous? Okay then, she's lost a lost and looks great. :) Anyway, she recently wrote about a grocery store experience that she had where she saw her nutritionist at the store. I didn't comment on the post right away (as I am wont to do when I'm trying to figure out a mindful comment) but in my comment this morning, I realized that I wanted to expound upon my own experiences with shameful shopping.

I remember when I was a kid - old enough to walk to places on my own, but not old enough to drive - I would walk to the grocery store about a half a mile away. At this grocery store, I'd buy two jumbo packs (I think I remember it being around 8-10 regular packages each) of Peanut Butter Twix.

As a young teenager, this took a lot of planning. I mean, I *knew* I couldn't eat all of those before I got back to the house - and even if I could, where would I put the wrappers? I would have to empty my backpack of it's books and walk to the store, buy my loot and then try to eat it as quickly as possible before going home. I'd put a wrapper or two in various neighbor's trash cans and hide the rest at home in various trash cans should my mom become suspicious as a bunch of them in mine.

When I could drive and had my own place, I could freely buy the food I wanted most. Sort of.

Because the thing is, although I lived in constant fear of someone I knew seeing what was in my shopping cart, the person I dreaded the most was the cashier.

Cashiers are funny - you can't always tell who is going to be the chatty one, just like you can't tell who is going to be overly slow or who is going to smush your bread. You can *try* to figure it out (much like trying to pick the fastest line in the security check at the airport), but it's difficult.

I can't remember how many times I've lied to cashiers. Sometimes they'd ask "Oh, are you having a party?" and I'd mumble something like "Yes" just so they'd keep checking my items. If pressed on the party type or reason, I'd make up something - anything - as long as they would stop asking questions. It's easy to see why they'd think that- when I looked at the items on the conveyor belt, they were half gallons of ice cream, bags of chips, dips, and frozen pizzas. I remember once buying several pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream and having the cashier make a funny weird face about it. I quickly lied, "Oh, I have a friend that just went through a break up and I don't know which ice cream she'd prefer so I bought a few." The cashier would smile, nod, and comment on what a great friend I was.

My salvation at the grocery store is when they started adding those self-checkout stations.

Even through previous attempts at weight loss - ones where I'd deprive myself on a regular basis - I'd eventually break and go to the store to buy all of my "red light foods." In those moments, I'd feel such shame. I just *knew* that the people behind me and in front of me in line (as well as the cashier) knew that all this food was for me. I felt disappointment that I was breaking my diet and I also felt helpless. Because when the food is on the conveyor belt (and therefore SO close to being MINE), I would suffer just about anything to get it. In fact, the humiliation that I felt was fodder for me feeling like I NEEDED the treats. Food would make me feel better...and, in truth, it always did.

But during the last year and a half, I've cut out most of that. It wasn't always easy. At first, I started slowly. Gradually, the times between the red light food shopping sprees got longer and longer. And now, it's an extremely rare occasion when I have crap food on the conveyor belt.

Do I still have the cravings to buy jumbo packages of candy? Absolutely. But those feelings are rarer and rarer now. So rare that when I notice that I'm craving them, it almost shocks me - and I take a scan of myself and my mind to find out WHY I'm craving something like that. Sometimes I get the answer quickly and other times I don't.

What happens with much more regularity is me feeling good about the food that I present to the conveyor belt. I shop, and have shopped, for healthier items so much that I don't even really have a lot of feelings about the food I buy. I'm on auto-pilot. If I had to pick an emotion about it, I guess I would say that I am proud that I have things in bags from the produce section versus over processed foods in boxes.

My old shopping experiences were harried and anxiety filled. I worried about who could see what I was buying and what they thought. I got in and out quickly for fear that I would run into someone I knew. I grabbed whatever looked good and let my cravings make the decisions.

Now, I don't care who sees what I'm buying. I still have snacks, but they're directed more to healthy options than to cravings. I see a rainbow of colors in my cart. I know that the food that I will consume will be tasty and will be good for my body. It will fuel my runs and will allow me to enjoy my evenings. I don't worry about what someone would see if they opened the cupboards or fridge.

It was so cool to read The Babe's post because until then, I guess I hadn't really realized how much my shopping experience has changed.

Next on the list: cleaning up my fast food choices and/or the amount of times I eat fast food. I may not be shy about letting people look in my pantry or fridge, but to look at the wrappers of some of the fast food items I pick? Eesh. I want to start cooking more meals and spend less time eating out of containers.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010


Yesterday, I ate a HUGE cream filled, chocolate topped donut right before leaving for my Weight Watchers meeting. I know, you may not understand why I did it, but I'll 'splain.

When the sales guy brings in the donuts in the morning, my co-workers usually attack it with zeal. Among the first donuts to be scarfed up are custard filled, chocolate topped donuts. Seriously. They're ALWAYS gone first. Those are pretty much the only donuts I like so those are the only ones I typically eat.

So I made a deal with myself months ago: I wait until the afternoon to check the box and if the donut I want is still in there, I get to have it. If not, I don't.

Yesterday at 3, I checked the box and saw the huge yummy donut. I started salivating, which was my cue to myself that I wanted it... and so I had it. Seriously, this happens about once a year, so I don't feel bad at all. But that was one heavy donut. Seriously, it was probably a half pound of sugar and processed foods... And you know what? I enjoyed every bite. I tried to eat it as slowly as possible and to be mindfully present with every bite.

It worked for about half of the bites. What? I'm a work in progress.

Anyway, I went to the meeting and ended up still losing 0.6 pounds for the week, which is not too shabby.

Last night I had a conversation with my boyfriend that turned into an argument. I'm not so naive to think that long term relationships are without their disagreements, but dammit, I want mine to be that way!

While theoretically, there are no winners and losers in arguments and that no one person is right or wrong, I KNOW that I was VERY right. :) I was justified in asking for what I did and I feel like his exasperation towards me hurt. Actually, it hurt a lot. We made up. We had a short conversation about why it was so emotionally charged for both of us. But I still felt uneasy so I decided to sleep on it, knowing that I usually feel better in the morning.

The thing is, like a bad hangover the day after drinking, I am still aware of the fight this morning. I still love him very much but I know that if we can't figure out how to have discussions in a better way, our relationship won't survive the harder times that are inevitable. I still feel misunderstood. I still feel sad that we didn't communicate better. And I still feel wronged. I hate remembering the disagreement. I hate that he felt bad. I hate that I felt bad. I hate that he's probably feeling the same way today.

With all of these thoughts, it's no wonder that I feel heavy today. And that heaviness in my heart is slow to leave me right about now.

What I'm thankful for? That today is a sunny, beautiful day in Denver. It's supposed to be in the 50s and I know that my run at lunch will give me so much comfort. Perhaps I can shake some of these worries free and leave them on the trail so that my heart feels lighter.

I'm also meeting with a friend for dinner - and I know that laughing with her (as we always do) will help my spirits lift.

And for now, that is enough. It has to be.