August 13, 2008
hello, all!
Hi, it's me. Sorry I've been so quiet, it's just there's been an awful lot that's happened and that's still happening. This is really my whirlwind year of change. Whether I like it or not.
I've been focusing more lately on what I'm eating and drinking, and the types of exercise I'm getting.
Maybe a month or two ago, I borrowed a folding bike from a friend, and I absolutely adored it. It rode great. It folded up tiny. It weighs next to nothing (or, 30#). So I took a couple of weeks to think about it, and finally went a few weeks and bought one. A folding bike of my own!
I'm loving riding it. Today I rode 2 miles into town, and then another 4.5 miles from a train stop to work. It really makes me feel good -- and it makes me sleep good, too.
And yesterday, for the first time in I don't know how long, I went to the gym. I did some upper-body strengthening that I'm still feeling. But it's a good feeling. I'm planning to go back in tomorrow.
_________
Sometimes, I think I'm really doing well, self-esteemwise. And then.... like yesterday, or the day before, I saw a picture taken in June. It's not flattering, at all! All I could see in the photo was my belly. Now, I'm not deluded. I know I have a belly, and I'll probably have a belly the rest of my life. Even when I got down to my post-college low of 160#, I had a belly. I doubt it's the first thing anyone notices about me. But for whatever reason, that's what I see on myself.
I want to love my body. But I want you to love my body as well. Is that too much to ask?
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June 22, 2005
bzzzzz (the sound of tension)
I'm gonna to try to keep this short, as the day is full of stuff, and I'm in the midst of a mild panic attack. Sigh.
I am a bit freaked out about the amount of work at work. And the fact that we are really overbudget. In the shower, my free floating anxiety began to extend to fitness. I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I'm a fraud. Here, I write this blog, theoretically about fitness, and here I am, blowing off mat pilates, walking erratically, never going to the gym...
I had to sit myself down and have a stern talk. Self: you're in the middle of a big pile of stress. Now is not the time to freak out about fitness. And it's not like you're doing nothing, you're just not doing as much as you have in the past. Is that such a bad thing? And really, I think—fitness is the scapegoat. Not the issue.
...
I rode the bike home last night. It was not as beatic as it was last time—it felt like work, some of the way.And okay, some of the way. I did stop, but only to take a picture! It will all get better. Practice, practice.
It only took me 23 minutes to get home (!), compared to 45 on the other bike. But since I had left work late, I was officially running late. I had a snack and tried to get ready to go to mat pilates, but it felt like a thousand and one things were holding me back. Like, feeling exhausted. My poor sweetie has been having almost constant coughing fits at night, and while I do manage to sleep through a lot of them, I don't sleep that great.
So I didn't go.
...
The highlight of this morning was vacuuming. I vacuumed the living room again. It looks great. This is frightening. This is not like me.
In my own defense, I wanted to pick up as much of the cat hair and dust as I could, as Sweetie is staying home today, trying to rest and recover from this awful asthma attack. Last night he managed to sleep hard for about 4 or 5 hours, with no coughing fits.
I also spent about a half hour combing Nigella. She wasn't very happy about it, and part of my calf is swollen from where she laid in her claws. But she's shedding her undercoat at a furious clip, and so I was able to collect a kitten-sized ball of fur all clumped together. Afterwards, I felt like I needed to be combed, and I had that horrible sensation of hair sticking to my face (ououough!)
The lowlight of the morning was losing my wallet. I was already late for work, and stressed about everything possible. The morning's migas were really hanging heavy in my belly. I went to put my wallet in my pocket so I could show my bus pass to the bus driver, and—no wallet.
I look in my purse. No wallet. I look in the usual places, the bookshelf in the hallway, the kitchen counter, the back bar, the dining room table. No wallet. Migas demand a quick exit. I think, maybe it's here in the bathroom. No. Maybe it's in the pocket of the dress I wore yesterday. No.
And then, I can see it in my mind's eye. I have a bad habit of leaving it on my desk. No doubt, it's on top of a pile of papers, in plain sight. I wonder if it's still there. That was a stupid thing to do, Vicki. Sheesh.
I make peace with the idea, and I ask Sweetie if I can borrow a little cash. I decide to take apart my purse one more time before I leave. I check each of the pockets. No wallet. I pull out my clear knitting bag, filled with the silver scarf and yarn.
When did you last get out your wallet?, Sweetie asks. I think about it. There was the coffee shop. Umm, and looking at the gas receipts for the scooter (looks like 55mpg right now), and upcoming appointments. Damn, I can just see that wallet sitting on the desk.
And then I see a black thing in my knitting bag in amongst all that silver. Oh my g-d! It's my wallet. Safe and sound.
Even though it's two hours later, obviously my stomach and my nervous system haven't gotten the message yet.
permalink June 22, 2005 | Comments (3)
May 12, 2005
surprise!
I rode the route from home to PFit this morning: 3 miles, short a block, according to the scooter odometer. Gosh, it's so much fun riding the scooter.
...
So I had a really disturbing dream last night. I dreamt I was pregnant. We were about to throw a big house party when I realized that my water was about to break, which, huh? I guess I'm pregnant! How could I have gone 9 months and not noticed?
(Mind you, I know that there are women who have not noticed they were pregnant until they gave birth, but still! And I have no idea how you'd know that your water was about to break—maybe you just know when it happens?)
So, I'm thinking about it. Yeah, I guess about 7 months ago, I went through this weird nauseous period. Man, I guess it was a bad idea to have been partying so hard the last couple months (dreams, gotta love em. I can't remember the last time I partied hard—I am so middle-aged!).
Everyone, however, is very supportive. Sweetie, supportive. Dad (making a cameo—hi, Dad!), supportive. Mom, supportive. All of our friends, supportive.
That's when I woke up. Dang.
At first, I was like, what is that about? And then I remembered. I've mentioned to several co-workers that I'm covering for another coworker who is out on maternity leave—and invariably, the response is, 'Oh, I had no idea she was pregnant'. Sometimes, the person will go on to mention another fat woman in the office who recently had a child, and how they didn't know that she was pregnant either.
And these women, of course, are my size. I mean, in general. And they are both attractive, stylish women, as well as fat.
Mind you, maybe because I was paying attention, I could tell they were pregnant. They didn't look like they had big bellies, and wide hips—it looked like they were carrying their own Egg around in its' specially designed carrying case. And yes, they also had bellies and hips.
I'm not sure what to think of it, but it's just (obviously) on my mind.
permalink May 12, 2005 | Comments (2)
