"Blogcation"

I had a really bad day on Friday but only a couple of hours of bad and it's the sort of bad that you look back on and laugh. In fact it's the sort of bad that you know in the moment isn't funny but is being handled in a ridiculously melodramatic fashion by none other than yourself. With that said, it's the type of melodramatic, soon-to-be-funny bad that will likely play out in exactly the same fashion in the future because it's driven completely by emotion . . . um, yeah I'll say it, teenage emotion that I am confident lives in us all not just in me. Maybe that's why I was so well-behaved and adult on Saturday? Anyway, I know I'm being cryptic so hopefully this helps. I'm not sure how far back to go. I'll just start at the end and work my way back until even I'm sick of it all.

I'm sitting here on Sunday in sweatpants. I see nothing wrong with this. I love it actually. What I don't love is the fact that I'm in said sweatpants for one, well okay two reasons. The first is that I'm behind on laundry. But anyone who knows me knows that I can be weeks behind on laundry and still have plenty of things to wear. So the second reason is that nothing really fits. I had to come to the realization my dryer was not to blame a few weeks ago. My holiday gift request was cash that I could use for sessions with my trainer, as if I could still call her that after not seeing her for months (years). I've started out with working out five days a week which was just unreasonable. Mainly I couldn't hog everyday for myself when D wanted to get to the gym and have his Loomsmen bookclub or whatever they call it. So I opted for fewer days but longer sessions. I've settled into 3-4 days a week with a mix of cardio, resistance and ab work.

I have to say it - I hate scales? This is why I do not use them and do not own one. I managed to lose, gain, lose in a seemingly normal though frustrating manner until the one week that I gained 8lbs in 36-hours. Really?!?! Considering I was not gorging on lard or bricks that's just stupid. So I only climb on a scale for my trainer and I hate it because, as I just said, it's stupid. I rely on my clothing to tell me what's working. I don't want to worry about fat weighing less than muscle. Do my clothes fit or not? That's it; end of story. Well, the answer is no, my clothes STILL do not fit.

And while I love D, I do not appreciate the male need to offer suggestions, fixes or ideas of any sort to me when I've tried on every pair of pants I own (with the exception of sweats pants, workout pants, and the one pair of maternity pants I still have). I will address these here as perhaps you too are wondering if perhaps the reason my clothing does not fit is because . . .

• my thyroid meds need adjusted - hmm, could be but the lovely docs don't feel a need to have me in the upper portion of the range apparently; regardless I will make an appointment to be poked and prodded and I'll leave the nurse a note for the doc that requests I be bumped. Nearly 15 years after diagnosis, I can tell you what I'll hear back is "you're within range; maintain current Rx" I will spare you the ensuing @$!*# I'll be thinking though politely not saying to Mr. Nurse.
• I'm not working out enough for me - insert @$!*# from above
• I've eaten pancakes three times in as many weeks - yes, this IS true but still, please see answer above plus "pancakes, really? it's not like I'm living off some sort of IHOP super stack bobbing around in syrup"

I think the top three will do it. You get the idea. For clarification though, I went to the gym Friday morning and did half an hour of cardio followed by an hour of my trainer's bootcamp. I showered there and was ready for the day but my shoes hurt. I was passing home on the way to the errands so I stopped to change shoes. That lead to me changing pants because honestly they were just too uncomfortably tight too. I ended up 1 hour later leaving the house in designer jeans and heels because I could not bring myself to hem the expensive jeans which thankfully still fit. That hour involved a good deal of stress though I'm happy to say no tears. I did try on 99% of the pants I own (yes that would be a large number of pants) and I will admit I did dump all my folded clean laundry into piles on the floor and then I dug around in them like an angry gopher looking for something - anything that would work.

Today everything is folded again though, ah-hem, still not put away. I'm still super frustrated that I'm working out like a fiend with no results. By the way, I'm not someone that enjoys working out. I've opted for classes that are more enjoyable than chaining myself to an elliptical for an hour, and you would need to chain me to get me to stay that long, but I'd still rather do something else. I'm trying to take a harder look at what I eat. I did Weight Watchers about eight years ago and lost a decent amount. So basically I know how to take a hard look at what I'm eating. I just don't want to be that harsh so for now I'm making a conscious effort to eat more salads and other veggies. It's pretty sad when the only green vegetable a vegetarian (or anybody) eats in a day are the green beans off their toddler's plate. J hates green beans. In defense of my diet though, I don't eat horribly by any means but I can do better. I will admit Friday's episode did lead me to seek solace in a box of Samoas. That implies I ate the whole box, c'mon I could not legitimately whine here for everyone to read if I ate an entire box of Samoas, I had three . . . cookies, not boxes. Geesh!

Anyway, no matter what size is written on the label in your clothes if they don't fit comfortably it's bad. If you're working hard to make them fit (or to lower the number there) and it's not happening then it's clearly worse. I think most everyone has been there, hence why I think looking back my behavior was comical, but I also know I would behave that way again. I mean, seriously I'm sure I've done that before and in the heat of moment I did it again two days ago. I'm also not letting the thyroid, pancakes or pansy workouts that are apparently to blame win. I'm just going to keep working out, eat better, and channel my inner Jenny (yeah, that's my feisty sister) when I talk to Mr. Nurse.

I'll keep you posted; spring shopping is right around the corner with bathing suit shopping hot in it's heels. I think I can skip that last one though.

Now I'd better go put my clothes away; maybe I can get that gorilla (let's call him "blogcation") in the corner to help me.