One Of Those Days...

I'm having one of those days...
A day where I just want to hop on an exercise bike and pedal my fat ass into absolute oblivion.
I can't say that those days come very often.

I find those people that say: "Exercise is like a drug to me, there's no better high than getting a good sweat going on." or the ones that tell me: "Exercise will put you in a better mood and make you a happier person." to be quite odd. Now what planet are these people on? Exercise does nothing more than piss me off and ignite a lump of fiery coals in my Adidas track pants. It makes me sweaty, sticky, headache-y, sore, and causes me to omit a horrendous odor. Not only that but when I look in the mirror while exercising I see all that fat jiggling around which in turn makes me want to vomit. Exercise is not fun, nor pleasant. In fact, I can say without doubt that I hate it.

With that said, I do know the importance of a "healthy lifestyle." And as much as I get sick of hearing the overused term "healthy lifestyle" I can't help but consider that maybe these spandex-clad, protein goo drinking, gym monkeys have the right idea.

Like many others I tend to yo-yo back and forth between dieting and exercising to stuffing my face and laying around watching Duck Dynasty. Last spring I had a brief spurt of motivation and decided to become a member of the YMCA so that I had a place to work out. I met with a personal trainer, discussed goals and how much time and effort I had in mind to achieve those said goals. I diligently woke up every morning at 8am to go pedal on the exercise bike and plug away on the eliptical machine. (Treadmill is a bad word in my vocabulary. Don't say it, just don't!) And this was my routine for about a month until I just completely gave up, got lazy, didn't want to pay for a membership, and whatever other excuse I can use to try to justify why I stopped going.

So there I was, back at square one. I tend to have this bad habit of taking two steps forward and ending up twenty steps back. And even amuck, drowning my sorrows in a large extra chocolate chocolate milkshake a light bulb went off inside my head. Perhaps if I found some sort of physical activity that I enjoyed it would seem less like a chore and more like a pasttime, making me more apt to do it. So what could I do then? I can't swim, when it comes to sports I have absolutely no athletic abilities, and I would have to have a gun strapped to my handlebars to feel safe enough to bicycle in my neighborhood. But there is one thing I like to do and I like to think I'm pretty good at it which is dancing. Ok, Zumba it is... So I watched YouTube videos, thinking to myself: I can do this, easy as cake, walk in the park, no big thing... Ha! I arrived at the studio, track pants on, sneakers laced, hair ponytail-ed, ready to show this Zumba thing what's up. Not but ten minutes in and I'm sweating a frenzy, panting, legs on fire. So much for this "soccer mom" workout, I just got my ass handed to me wrapped up in a little lime green box. I continued to go four times a week (if it wasn't for scheduling conflicts I would have gone more) for about two weeks until my routine came to an abrupt halt due to shin splints. This, I later discovered was caused from improper footwear.

Bound and determined to not once again become a victim of laziness' evil grasp, I got back on the wagon once my shins were healed up and once I had a better pair of shoes. When I returned I felt like it was my first day all over again. By the time that hour was up you would have thought I just walked out of a sauna.

It's sad that every so often I come across some discouraging person who believes that if you're not slaving away at the gym every day, or a product of the P90x system (by no means any offense to P90x-ers, if you like it and it works keep at it!) it's not a "real" workout, that you're just doing the bare minimum so you can state the claim "Yes, I work out..." And like I said to those who gave me grief for doing yoga, those who stated: "All you're doing is stretching" don't act like you know something when you've never tried it. Even though I was thin when I began taking yoga classes, I became leaner and stronger than I ever had in my entire life. The same goes for Zumba, it's a high intensity workout that burns anywhere between 500 to 1000 calories in that one hour. I feel like I'm getting a better workout than I ever did from using an elliptical, or jogging on the hamster wheel *cough* treadmill. Not only that but, I like it, it's fun, it's challenging, I like my instructor, and most of the time I like the music that goes along with it. I'd rather be part of a program that I enjoy and look forward to going to rather than one that I hate and constantly try to find an excuse not to attend.

So here comes the part where in the past I've found myself giving up, feeling hopeless, and labeling myself as a failure. The dreaded bathroom scale. I honestly believe that it is an invention of the devil, put on earth only for girls (and pretty boys) to develop eating disorders at young ages and the primary cause of suicide, hard drug use, and divorce. (Ok, I'm stretching here!!!) But seriously, I'd rather step on a bed of nails than be victim to that little red needle that never stops at the number you want it to.
I've lost fifteen pounds...15 lbs...quinze livres. Sure, to someone weighing 135 pounds that's a lot but compared to what I need to lose it's a drop in the bucket.

It's so hard, it's so hard, it's so hard, it's so HARD!! I find myself crying out and so angry that I'm trying so hard and I want it so bad to happen but the progress is minimal. Granted, I'm sitting here drinking a VIA Pumpkin Spice Latte and even though it was made with two-percent milk rather than whole and only half a tablespoon of sugar it still is 60 calories of temporary bliss...when I should be drinking water...and I know this!! And this weekend I downed three Carlos O'Kelly's Margaritas with God knows how many calories, devoured a Crispy Chik-Fil-A sandwich, then topped the weekend off with half of a large Old Chicago pepperoni pizza. So I'm not perfect, and I have screwed up, and will probably continue to screw up here and there. But I bypass the urge to stop and get a sweet tea when I pass McDonald's on the drive home, and I have kept my sweets and salts to a bare minimum, soda has been banned from my diet harder than steroids were banned from the Olympics, I've made sure to eat my protein, my fruits, and the not so beloved vegetables. I'm just hitting a brick wall. I can make sure that I exercise and eat cautiously but I feel that if I even breathe in the odor of fried foods it heads straight to my waist. My body is just holding onto the fat like a kid holds onto his first teddy bear. This is most likely a product of depression, stress, and the greatly detested BC, which I believe to be all tied in together. (Another story in itself).

I do however notice a difference in some small ways, my Zumba workout has gotten slightly easier, I'm adding jumps where once I could only do a leg lift, I'm not out of breath when I walk up a flight of stairs, and I do feel quite a bit stronger especially in my legs. These changes prove that my efforts have not gone in vain. I still can't help but feel unsatisfied because my goals seem so unattainable at this moment. I feel as if I'm running a marathon without a finish line.

At this point all I can do is keep trudging along this rocky path. Continue to run that marathon until I can see a speck of what seems to be the finish line on the horizon. Keeping in mind that annoying phrase that's plastered all over the Internet: "Failure is not an option."

And those who have never had weight issues may never understand how trying and how tumultuous the process of losing weight can be and how depressing it is to be trapped in a body of which you feel you do not belong. They'll continue to redundantly spew the words "Just diet and exercise" like a record on repeat not ever truly understanding the mental struggles that are faced when trying to drop that extra 20, 30, 50, 100 pounds.

It is tough but I haven't yet gave up hope that I'm tougher.

Dry Salad

I'm pretty proud of myself.
I went light on my salad dressing today and then only ended up eating half of what I got because lettuce undressed is not all that tasty.
Small steps...small steps.

I've been browsing for new shoes. I have this bad thing about wearing my shoes until complete shoe death. They'll fade, become threadbare and the soles will be nothing more than a thin sheet of paper-like rubber before I decide it may be time to replace them. Now trust me, I have the means to buy new shoes and I definitely have the desire to buy new shoes its just that I'm so damn picky that I'll literally spend months searching for the perfect pair. Then, nine times out of ten they'll be discontinued, back-ordered, or some other force of nature will impede me from purchasing them.
If only I had the same problem when it comes to cosmetics...
I have about $70 worth of cosmetics in my sephora.com cart right now that I haven't paid for and probably never will pay for for that matter. When Ulta comes to my area I'm gonna be in trouble. It may lead way to an intervention of some sort.

Speaking of intervention, I've gone all week without sweet tea. Not only have I saved about $5 my thighs thank me I'm sure. In it's place I've had water. Water with ice, water with Mio, water by itself, lots of water... And in return I spend a lot of time in the bathroom. I'm sure it may not be a bad idea to buy stock in Kimberly Clark.

Wanna know what I really hate? When you're looking at facebook with the mobile app and you accidentally hit the "Like" button on something you had absolutely no intent on liking. I had this happen to me last night. I was just scrolling along to my heart's content and I notice a little blue thumbs up on no other but some fat, white trashy looking guy. "Panic!! Unlike!! "Unlike!! Unlike!!" I need to get that loosey goosey thumb under control asap.

Looks like fall is going to be an exciting time for new music. I got the new NIN record in the mail yesterday. The new Placebo album comes out this fall as well as a new VNV Nation. All that's missing is :wumpscut: releasing something new and it'll be like 2006 all over again...

Take A Look In The Mirror

July 16, 2006

“I had the joy of enduring a rather confusing and aggrivating bit of relationship drama that almost was the end of it. I still must say I was rather confused that it didn’t end as I spent my next morning waiting for the call or IM saying she couldn’t go on with it, only to find an oddly cheeerful Carlie who seemed to work things out well enough in her head. (The problem) bugs me alot more than it should, I mean she can get over her problems then I should as well.”

Sometimes it’s difficult to see the truth after all the lies you convince yourself of.

Five years I had convinced myself I had been the victim. Five years I played myself out to be the innocent girl who never said, did, or behaved wrongly. And for five years I constantly asked myself “what happened” and “why did he do that to me?” Sadly it wasn’t until recently that I finally realized that the answer was there all along I was too blind to see it all this time. The answer has been staring back at me in the mirror every single day.

They all try to listen, provide support, and understand me but it’s hard to listen when there’s nothing but silence between you. I always disappeared at the sight of conflict. I’d lock down any form of communication, hiding until I felt it was safe to return to the real world thinking that the problem would pass so that I would no longer have to explain myself. Sadly I didn’t realize that even though the problems may have blown over, they had not been forgotten.

When I wanted answers and explanations they were not provided. When problems arose he would leave me alone, depressed, worried that I would lose him without an opportunity to try to explain myself. As the pattern continued I grew angry that he ignored my attempts to contact him and refused to approach me. It would be days until I’d hear from him again and the only thing said on his behalf was “I’m not going to break up with you,” and sometimes I would not even get that.

I would constantly wonder why had the relationship taken this ugly turn putting me in a place where I felt my feelings didn’t matter. I paved this path of destruction. I created the rocky road of miscommunication, silence, loneliness, and confusion. I reaped what I sew. For the first year I set the standard for the relationship making it only right for him to do the same in return when the shoe was on the other foot. When I wanted to talk my pleas were shut down but only because I had done the same in the past. When he expressed concern I turned my back. When I needed support I turned to someone else. It was not out of retaliation, I’m sure on his side he believed that’s what I wanted. I set the example of disappearing for days then returned with nothing more than a smile on my face, acting as if nothing had happened.

I saw the relationship through tunnel vision, only seeing my side, my pain, my thoughts. Then when everything came crashing down I could not understand how or why things panned out the way they did. I did not make an attempt the see outside the box that was my world. I could not see the hurt that I caused only because I was so focused on the way I felt. I did not understand that the same pain that I felt was the same as what he felt all the times that I turned my back on him.

Years later and I feel like history has repeated itself. The same problems arise, the same conflicts go unresolved and even though I’ve been told where the problem lies, hearing it doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve understood it. I’ve blurred out (although not on purpose) the details of my actions and not until visually seeing them written down I had forgotten the things I had done. It broke my heart to see these words and to know that I not only hurt this person but have hurt others in the same fashion simply because I was too dumb, stubborn, narrow-minded to see the bigger picture.

I went searching for answers and I received them. I can finally stop pointing the finger of blame in the opposite direction when all along that finger should have been staring right back at me.

October 24, 2006

“...I don’t really know how to mend all these things. In a way I wish I had just never brought the issue of conflict up, sometimes it’s just better to suck it up and avoid it...but then again it would of fermented underneath everything and would of probably been worse when it finally did come out. I’m almost scared to talk to her now for fear of upsetting her more.”