Insert Clever Title Here

My brain's all over the place this morning, and not in a very happy way. Got hit with a sudden headache last night (and I'm not prone to headaches like this) that kept me awake for hours. Finally got to sleep to be awakened by the cat shouting at me around 2am (bloody fur-toddler). Head still hurts, although not quite as bad. Aching all over, though, and feeling like I'm coming down with something. Gotta get in the shower and get to work, though. Damn.

Also dreading going to see the doctor tomorrow morning. The last time I saw this one was two years ago, when I was just starting to look for a new one (long story). It was my third visit to him, and I'd gone in because I'd had sciatica so bad, for over a month, that I could hardly function for the pain. I tried to tell him look, it's been over a month, there's something wrong here, I need your help, and the old prescription for Flexeril that I've been slowly working through isn't even touching it.

He looked at me, very seriously, all sad-eyed, and said "Of course it hurts. You're fat. Come back in another month if it's not better," and proceeded to write me another prescription for the same drug I'd just told him wasn't working! At this point I was in tears, literally, of anger and frustration and shock. I took the prescription and walked out, swearing I'd never go back to him again.

I went to see a chiropractor the next day, who said "Of course it hurts. Look how far out of alignment your hip is!" He poked, prodded, bent, and twisted and I was walking and sitting comfortably that day!

Anyway, I went through a couple of other doctors and found myself back in his practice but seeing his P.A, who I really liked ... and now his P.A. has gone off to greener pastures and I'm back to trying this guy again.

Hopefully I can be a bit more assertive this time and not just sit there and cry helplessly like a big baby. I'm seriously dreading this.

On the bright side, though ... and it's a major bright side ... 291.5 this morning!

I miss my bike ... my REAL bike!

Y'know, it wasn't many years ago (five, maybe) I was riding my road bike a lot. Rode it to work and home most days (~8 miles each way, 10 if I went around the long way and hit Starbucks (yes, I do have a coffee cup holder on my handlebar)). Longer rides on weekends. I was averaging 100 miles every week and loving it. Starting to do long organized rides. The longest single-day ride I did was 56 miles, and I was training for my first century (100 miles).

I had started riding as a way to get fit and have something I could do with my (now ex) husband, an avid cyclist his entire life. Started out on a cheap hybrid that I felt "safe" on, as it had been a good 20+ years since I'd even been ON a bike, but soon caught the riding bug and graduated to a steel-frame touring bike. He was the "bike expert" so I bought the bikes that he insisted were the best for me, and I struggled for a long time trying to make them fit my body on frames that were, in hindsight, wayyyy too small for me ... even down to having a custom frame built but letting him measure me for it ... I ended up giving that frame to his sister. She's 5" shorter than me and it fit her perfectly.

I finally woke up to the real problem, put my foot down, and picked out my own bike without his influence. It fit me like a glove and I loved it. His only comment when I brought it home: "I would never have dreamed of putting you on a frame that big ... but you were right!" (I think that was the only time in our 10-year marriage that he admitted that I was right about anything! *grin*)

I absolutely loved riding that bike. It felt like a dream! But I had only put around 300 miles on it before I suddenly started having problems with my joints, directly related to a medication I'd taken for a number of years, and had to stop riding. It took two years to get that med completely out of my system and my joints to start settling down enough that I could try riding again, and then every time I did something else would happen that would stop me. Seemed like every time I'd sling my leg over the saddle I'd wind up hurting myself in a completely unrelated way within just a few days.

I still have that bike, still love that bike, wish I could actually ride that bike. It sits in my living room, mocking me. I can see it when I'm on the spinning bike. I can hear it calling me, "Isn't that booooring? Wouldn't you rather be out there on meeeee?" I pedal that spinning bike a little faster and daydream about hearing the pavement sing under my tires.

I keep spinning and make promises to my bike: "Soon, bike. I promise. Soon. I'll do what it takes, whatever it takes. You and me, we'll be back out there very soon. I swear."

We will. I promise.

Back In the Saddle Agaaaiiiinnn ...

... out where a friend is a  ... wait! Hold yer horses, mister Gene Autry! I don't EVAH wanna be THAT intimate with my saddle, thankyouVERYmuch!

*embarrassed cough*

Bike saddle, that is. Ermm, yeah. Lordy. Thought I'd try swapping saddles for a while 'cause my arse is getting bruises from having to hold all my (considerable) weight on my sit bones. Unfortunately I obviously didn't adjust it quite right 'cause, while it was easier on my butt, I kept sliding down it while I pedaled until I was FAR more friendly than I ever care to be with an inanimate object.

Well, with a bike saddle, at least. *innocent blink*

Anyway, made it fifteen minutes ... although I had to stop every three or four and pick the damn saddle out of embarrassing places. Had a good look at it after the ride and realized that I've got the nose pointed a bit down there, which explains much. Nothing like trying to stay in one position on a Slip 'n Slide for that long; my hands feel bruised from trying to hold myself on the back of the bloody thing.

Will take a break, drink some water, and adjust it for tomorrow's ride. Maybe see if I can get another ten minutes on it today 'cause I'm feeling energetic. Aaaand I'm looking at my 100 mile goal for this month and feeling a bit nervous 'cause I'm at a whopping six and a half.

Not really a subject change, but kinda: In the past I've had a bad habit of pushing myself too hard with the exercise and hurting myself so that I can't exercise for several days (sing out if this sounds familiar). I'm a bit over-thinking this, I know, but mentally fussing because I feel like I want to ride more but afraid that if I do then I won't be able to ride tomorrow. Does that make any sense at all?

Whatever you can do, or dream you can do ...

... do it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now. – Goethe

Yeah, that quote is on my home-office wall now, a reminder that it's me who's holding myself back here. Nobody and nothing but me not dreaming, not doing, not being bold enough to do what I so badly want to do.

Bleah, enough seriousness for a Sunday morning. Time for a little celebration!

The fur-toddler saw the vet again yesterday and was pronounced healing ... I'll be able to take that Cone of Shame and Misery off her head tomorrow. Just as well, 'cause she's obviously feeling much better and is driving me nuts with her boredom!

15 minutes on the spinning bike this morning, the longest yet!  The only thing I'm struggling with there is that I'm putting so much weight on the saddle that my arse is getting bruised. Might swap out the saddle today for a softer one just for a little while.

Aaaaaand my scale finally, FINALLY!, dropped down below 295! (Okay, 294.5 counts, dammit!)

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I'm experimenting a little with my diet here, trying to knock out of the stall ... basically going Very Low Carb for a little while, what the Low-Carbers call the Meat and Eggs Life Program. Seriously, seriously low-carb (yes, I'm taking my vitamins and gulping water). All the eggs and meat you can eat, but no veggies or grains and very little cheese or dairy. Right around 5 total carbs a day.

The most obvious advantage is that it absolutely kills my appetite. I started it two days ago and was a little concerned about how my body would feel, but so far I feel pretty good and reasonably energetic on it.

It's not a long-term diet plan, I don't think, but just something to kick my body awake again and help it break out of this very frustrating stall. Cross your fingers for me, eh?

Wishful Shrinking

So I found myself laying in bed this morning having a think and talking to myself, an activity I frequently partake in. I also talk to inanimate objects and the cat. I like to think of myself as mildly eccentric. "Insane" is such a negative word, don't'cha think?

Anyway, "Self," I says, "do we really think we're doing everything we can to lose weight?"

"Of course we are, " I reply, "we're watching what we eat and getting some exercise." Self looks kinda smug at this point, not seeing where this conversation is going yet.

"But, Self, are we really doing everything we CAN to lose it?" Self is starting to look a bit worried and mutters something under my breath here but doesn't reply. "Seriously, Self, how badly do we want to dump the weight?"

Oooh, Self is starting to sound a bit defensive here: "Very badly! You know we do, dammit!"

"Well then, Self, we know we're not doing everything, don't we?"

"Well yeah, we are! We're watching what we eat and getting some exercise, aren't we?"

"Sure, sure." A soothing tone, calming my prey before leaping for the throat. "We feel like we're working hard at it, Self. We know. But let's be honest with each other for a moment, can we? We're not doing everything we could be doing, are we? There's a lot we could be doing that we're not, isn't there?"

"Whaddya mean?!"

"Well, Self-my-dear, let's start with water."

Self exclaims, "But we're drinking water!"

"Yes, yes, we are. But enough water? No, I don't think so. Most days, sure, we're drinking 3 liters or more. Days that we're at work. But we're letting life and laziness get in the way, aren't we? C'mon now and think: How much water did we have yesterday? One glass? Is that really the best we can do?"

A long sigh from Self, "No, I suppose not."

"And what about exercise, Self?"

"But ... but ... ", came Self's sputtering reply, "but we DID exercise all weekend! We're still sore from that!"

"Oh really. Indeed we did get a lot of exercise over last weekend and yes, we're still a bit sore, but does that mean we get a free pass from exercising all week? It's Friday, FFS, Self. We've done nothing all week! Are we seriously using a bit of soreness as an excuse to not exercise at all?"

"Okay, yeah, I suppose it's an excuse."

"Yeah, we know it is. Anyway, what about the food? And shush, we both know what we're about to say there! No, we haven't been as good as we could be. What about the Thai restaurant on Tuesday where we wolfed down Pad Thai and chocolate/chocolate/chocolate cake? Or the other Thai restaurant on Thursday when we sucked down two big plates of food like we were fresh from Ethiopia?"

Self looks down and sighs but doesn't say a word.

"Now look, Self, we both know we want to shed this fat suit but neither of us are really doing everything we could be to make that happen. Time to suck it up, buttercup, and get on with what we both know we need to be getting on with, innit? We CAN do this, we ARE doing it, we just need to keep our collective eyes on the road in front of us and get it done."

"Oh, stop sniveling, Self. It's not a big deal. We're not a great big fat failure, honest, we just need to keep evaluating and re-evaluating what we're doing to make sure we're doing what we can. Here, have a pork rind."

*sounds of contented munching*

Hmmm, will threatening the scale work?

Argh! The scale's been bouncing up and down the same five pounds for two-plus weeks now! I keep telling myself that a) my muscles are sore, so there's water retention there, b) I'm on the verge of TOM so there's water retention there, c) my clothing is fitting looser and looser, so something's happening to the fat, d) patience, grasshopper, you've gotta get some ... but it's not helping. I'm impatient. I want to see numbers move! Dammit!

I know that, with the exception of Tuesday's birthday lunch where I gave myself permission to misbehave within reason (and kept it within reason) I've been pretty consistently keeping my carbs under 20 net. I feel like my calories are a bit high, typically between 2000 and 2500, but that's still low enough for the weight to be creeping off. Supposedly. I've been pretty active, although not as much as I could be (here comes excuse: by the time I get home from work I'm so tired all I want is supper and zzZZZzzzz).

But damn you, evil scale of evilness! Move! Noooo, not THAT way! The OTHER way! Now!

(Why yes, I AM obsessing. Again. Or, well, still. *sheepish grin*)

In other news, the cat is still deeply unhappy with her cone of shame, but acting like she's feeling quite a lot better. I had to chase the pill bottle top across the room today after pushing the antibiotic down her throat (hey, exercise!) and she managed to reboot my computer in the process.

She's like a little furry toddler, she is.

To be or not to be - that's not even a question

My best friend tells me that I'm channeling my inner lesbian. Threatening to buy me flannel shirts. Cheering me on like only he can do, being one of the sweetest men I've ever met (damn shame he's gay, he'd be in soooo much trouble otherwise). I tell him there'd better be a lesbian in those flannel shirts 'cause I need a wife! It'd be bloody marvelous to come home to a clean house and a meal, and between work, exercise, and power tools, the housework is suffering even more than usual.

Not that I wasn't a total failure as a housewife already. Heh.

I feel like I'm reinventing myself here. Well, perhaps not reinventing ... becoming the person I always secretly thought I wanted to be anyway. I was a seriously tomboy kid who hated dressing up, despised anything pink, and just wanted to wear jeans and climb trees. Drove my mother, who desperately wanted a girlie girl in pink ruffles, absolutely to distraction. Somewhere out there is a photo of me at around five years old ... long blond hair in ring curls, a pink gingham dress, looking seriously disgruntled. She'd send me to school in dresses and tights (always pink or white tights, blech!) and then cry, literally cry, when I'd come home with holes in the knees, mud on the skirt, and scuffs on my (gods, I hated those things) brown and white saddle shoes.

I wanted jeans, dammit! I wanted to play on the monkey bars and grub around in the dirt with the rest of the kids!  I was born without the "stay clean and tidy" gene, I'm pretty certain ... one of those kids who had to be stood on a chair to wait for church 'cause I couldn't move without getting grime on my dress ... and quite frankly that hasn't changed with age. *sigh*  My day hasn't properly started 'til I'm wearing my coffee, at minimum. *grin*

As a young adult, the moment I was out of mom's hands I was into jeans, ratty tennies, and t-shirts. Another thing that hasn't changed with age, 'cept my shoes aren't ratty anymore. Usually a bit scuffed and dirty, yeah, but at least they're not ragged. I still wear pretty much nothing but jeans and t-shirts.

I realized at some point in this last month that the person I think I am, the person who I've always seen myself as, is an Ellen DeGeneres sorta woman: Casually comfortable, strong and confident, self-defined. Not spending a lot of time and energy on what our culture says a woman should be, if that makes sense? 

I LIKE wearing jeans and t-shirts and comfortable shoes. I DON'T like, and refuse to, spend time and money on make-up and fancy hairstyles that demand a lot of time in the morning. I DON'T enjoy spending a lot of time and mental energy on my clothing. I HATE shopping, especially that part where you have to go to stores and deal with crowds while trying on a bunch of clothing (okay, part of that's my weight, I know). I would enjoy being able to wear "cute" shoes and nicer shirts, but they'd still be on the very-casual side because that's who I AM. Even when I'm slender and fit I'll be wearing jeans and t-shirts because I LIKE wearing them. 


So back to the whole point here: It's finally dawned on me that I can BE who I see myself as. All it will take to BE that person is some time and a bit of effort. I just turned 44. I can BE myself by the time I hit 45. All I have to do is start being ME right now. 


This whole train of thought was initially triggered a few months back by a conversation with office-mate. She's a very girlie girl, and nothing wrong with that, but she's also a very ...hmmm ... what's the right word here? "Judgemental" might be a bit too strong, but there's definitely a connotation of that. Anyway, one day out of the blue she says, "You know, you really should dress up more like a girl. Do your hair and wear some make-up." 

My first, knee-jerk, response was, "Why?" 

"Well, because you just should. You're a girl, you know."

"What is this "should" you speak of, office-mate? Who says? Who GETS to say I "should" wear a certain style of clothing or waste time in the bathroom painting my face and styling my hair every day? Just remember that I'm a software engineer and be thankful I wear clean clothes and take a shower every day, mmkay?"

She dropped it there, smart woman, but of course I've spent a lot of time thinking about it. And deciding that I'm right, at least where I'm concerned: The only "should" here is what I decide for myself. 

And I "should" be me. Just me. This is who I am, and I like me.