Holla!

Today was the 5th day this week I have worked out... HOLLA!! I think I might be relaxing to the sounds of nature with a warm clay mask on my face in about 72 hours...

I ran today. Really ran. For the first time in....
Yeah. It's been that long. I don't think I was pregnant the last time I actually ran.
3 miles on the treadmill (okay, you're right, it's not "real" running)
1.5 miles on the StairMaster (I HATE that damn thing but I am determined to not have a mom butt)

It felt good to sweat that much. I totally got into my groove like I used to when I ran. I felt normal again. I wasn't dying after 2:42 @ 5.5mph. I found my zone - lots of deep breaths - a couple moments to stop and drink. All in all, I felt the Lisa-ness come back. I wasn't Mom or Wife or Milk Factory or Cook or Housekeeper or anything. Just me. Rockin' out to Def Leppard and Missy Elliott and Marilyn Manson.

Once I climbed on that God-forsaken machine known as the StairMaster I got all mental again. It sucked! I wanted to quit after 40 seconds ...two minutes ...five minutes ...ten minutes ...basically every second I was moving my legs. I remember having to tell myself: This is it. This is the difference between looking the way you do and looking the way you WANT to. You have to do this. The sad part is there was an old man climbing right next to me, totally schooling me. He started before me, kept going after me and consistently took faster steps. Bastard. Don't you need to go take a nap in front of Sports Center or something!! I think my whole body turned green in envy as I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye. It made me even more mental.

Regardless, today was a good - no, GREAT day. So I celebrated by having 1/2 whole wheat pita filled with a tuna salad and three Oreo cookies. :) That just sabotaged my stair climbing experience. What can I say, I am still in detox and that was my relapse.

To Do list update:
1. Go to the bathroom. (check!)
2. Drink enough water. (check!)
3. Workout. (CHE-ECK!!)
4. Update blog. (check and check!)
5. Participate in some endorphin-stimulating nookie. (HOLLA! - I felt it deserved more than just a check)
6. Finish chores around the house. (che -- 1/2 check)
7. Wash and dry laundry. (check check check check check.... this is unending...)
8. Make a healthy dinner free of chemistry experiments. (check!)
9. Go to bed before 11 pm. (no check due to scheduling conflict with #5...)

Dinner tonight: Turkey meatloaf muffins, green beans and roasted red potatoes. Don't be jealous! I know it sounds disgusting, but these lil' mini meatloafs are mine, my hubby's AND my kids' favorite. Try it!

Down but not Out

I originally wrote this post on Saturday, but computer glitches kept it from posting and I had to take a break from my pissed-off-ness before revisiting my inept friend, this computer...

I am still here. I have been absent as of late getting ready for our big family vacation to Yellowstone! I am still struggling with the everydayness of my body, still trying to figure out a workout routine/schedule, coming up with what seems like any and every excuse to eat poorly (VACATION!), and ready to get back at it.

My sweet neighbor gave me hope today. She hasn't seen me in a while and apparently I look like I have lost weight. I don't know where... cause all my lbs. are present and accounted for. If anything, we have some new recruits after 7 days of non-stop parenting in foreign forests. (Remember, I am stress-eater!) I peeked back through our camping excursion and am seriously disgusted with what I see. I don't know any other word to describe it - disgusted. I have never, NEVER looked like this before and I am really finding difficulty in accepting myself.

I think its because I am not supposed to. I don't want to. This is not me. I am not this shell I see in front of me. Not that it is that completely horrible, but because I know myself to be better than this. Some of you might read this a judge - how superficial of me! YES. I am being a little superficial with the exterior. But I say this with the underlying truth that how my body is now is not how it was designed to be. It was designed to be strong, healthy, fit - the sleekness of my muscle definition is just a beautiful side-effect. I deserve to be better, my children deserve a better mom, and my husband deserves a better wife.

Now let me get the the source of this - internal fitness. I am not simply talking about smaller pants sizes, flatter stomachs, less flabby arms. This is NOT what this is about, what ANY of this is about. It is ultimately about become my best self (thank you, Oprah, for driving this concept into my brain so kindly and subtly every afternoon at 4pm for the last ten years). Something happened this year when I turned 30 - something terribly beautiful and tragic. I realized A: I am NOT indestructible as I previously thought in my youth. B: I need to take care of myself better for my family and those I love. and C: My metabolism sucks. (this is the tragic part). I am thirty. Not nineteen or twenty-one as I sometimes still envision myself to be. I can still feel that young, but I must understand the ramifications for my choices now have a much greater effect on me now than they did then.

Example: I LOVE junk food - specifically the salty, crispy, potato chip variety that comes delectably prepacked with all sorts of interesting vocabulary words that would give the World Spelling Bee champ a run for their $$ - none of which can be grown at your local farm - except for maybe the third to the last of the 27 items listed. Previously, this was no issue for me. I would down an entire can or bag or pre-sealed plastic container and just think "I better run tomorrow." Tomorrow would come, I would feel fine and forget to run, and never miss a beat... until the next craving ensued approx. 1.3 weeks from previous indulgence. Today, (warning, this may contain information not suitable for younger audiences) I get bloated, have gas that could be mistaken for a byproduct of Hitler's Chemical Warfare, get constipated and frustrated as I sit on the toilet for what feels like an hour utilizing all previous skills from childbirth to try and get something anything to move, irritable because I am bloated and constipated and look as good as I feel, lethargic from the simple carbs that caused my blood sugar to spike and then crash a mere 7.32 minutes after I ate and surprisingly! I lose my libido.

The previous example is exactly what happened to me over our vacation. You should have seen the sh*t that came home in grocery bags from my pre-camping shopping excursion. My kids went BANANAS! I never buy chips or cookies or all the junk that Winco so conveniently displays in their bulk food section. For some reason, I couldn't resist this time. I thought I was somehow treating everyone to a great time if I bought their enthusiasm and cooperation with highly-processed chemistry experiments. Bad call Mom, bad call. You see, my body, my husband's body, my 7 year old's body and my 2 year old's body are not equipped to deal with the massive overload of said byproducts and chemicals that were so eagerly consumed on our trip. We had issues... lots of stinkin' issues... in a small, 25 ft. camper-trailer... while driving around Yellowstone... for six days... My oldest went to the bathroom one time in three days - ONE TIME! Yes, we still ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with snacks in between and she still only went once. I wasn't much better... my only saving grace was the mass water consumption from being hot due to the over-preparedness of my packing (I thought it would be colder than it was so we wore jeans in 80+ degree weather) and the delicious coffee that Phil and I prepared in our french press every morning (a must for a trip that consisted of waking each day before 7 am, traveling 1400 miles in a truck with three wee ones and NEVER a moment without someone needing something!). The stress of said "vacation" (yes, I use this word in quotes intentionally because whoever came up with that damn word never took a trip like this) only added to our issues and when the urge finally came, in was a MAD dash to the nearest outdoor bathroom facility filled with flies, puddles and Asian tourists.

All of sh*t-talking has got me thinking though. In this short amount of time I noticed a remarkable change in all of us. Not externally, but we were all cranky, constipated, stinky, etc. (You are probably grossed out by my open-bowel talk - holy cow is that a visual - anyway, please don't stop reading, it will get better. I promise.) A-D-D moment there... If food can have that great of an impact in just six short days and require us another week of recovery after, what happens in a lifetime of poor consumption?!? What things go unnoticed and just chalked up to "I've always had a problem with..." Have you really or is it somehow related to what you put in your body and what you do with your body. I have to say that my sweat is even stinkier this week as I work out because of the left-overs still in my cells. How strange is that!! I find myself having ridiculously strong cravings for just at 11:31 pm because of my indulgence. My body became addicted to it like heroin and wants, NEEDS more. I periodically can't resist and end up with a handful of leftover Cool Ranch Doritos and a guilty conscience. I HATE IT!

The whole point of this is just to blog about my updates with fitness and what-have-yous and this is my current struggle. I am in detox. And because I haven't been providing quality fuel for my body, I haven't been feeling so good about the external of my body. So to help with my "down and out" feelings, I made some goals for today:
1. Go to the bathroom.
2. Drink enough water.
3. Workout.
4. Update blog.
5. Participate in some endorphin-stimulating nookie.
6. Finish "chores" around the house.
7. Wash & dry another load of laundry left from trip.
8. Make a healthy, dinner free of chemistry experiments.
9. Go to bed before 11pm to resist my 11:31 craving.

If I am able to accomplish this list, it will begin the healing process of getting back on track with the incredibly s-l-o-w moving wagon of weight loss and body transformation. Wish me luck. On the flip side, I am down to 149 lbs (5lb. weight loss). Here are my latest pictures:

BEFORE --------- 6 WEEKS

I see some progress!! Not anything to make me the poster child for 6 week transformations, but still, its better than nothing!

I still haven't earned my facial.

Period. End of story. I don't want to talk about it.

There really are no excuses - just simple laziness.

**DISCLAIMER** For those of you who may not know the 'real' me, I am a call-it-like-it-is straight shooter. The reasons why I haven't earned my facial yet are pointless. The simple fact is I apparently am not ready to make major changes because if I was I would have earned it already. And I haven't.

No massage yet either.

The good news, I have been (with a few exceptions) pretty good about my diet. I noticed some major changes the first couple weeks - mostly internal. I felt better (here comes inner tigress!), didn't feel as bloated, was regular (a MAJOR improvement for me) and had all the energy I needed to get everything done I wanted to do.

What's really getting me is this whole motherhood thing. Damn kids! (Of course I am completely kidding!!) If I didn't have to feed or bathe or cuddle or entertain them, I would be golden! I could work-out for 4 hours/day! So the delicate battle of balancing motherhood with Lisahood is where I am stuck. So far motherhood weighs a lot more (and it shows...) I just need Jillian Michaels to come and kick motherhood arse so she's no longer the fat kid on the seesaw that no one wants to ride with. They all just get stuck up at the top.

That's where Lisa is. She is stuck up at the top and can't get down. That's why she hasn't made it to her facial appointment.

I LOVE FOOD!!

I do. And that is the greatest understatement ever written. It is somewhat of an obsession for me. I take that back. I am more obsessed with it than my other obsession. (See post) The problem I have found is the lack of miraculously delectible, incredibly mouth-watering, send your palate on a whirlwind kind of food available to those who are trying to 'manage' our weight. I am having such a hard time because I realize now just how influencial food is to my overall health. I have always known this, but when it came to weight loss, I always thought what I am sure a lot of people thought: calories in < calories out = lose weight. Let me explain this formula. If you eat fewer calories than you use, you will lose weight. There is so much more to this seemingly simple equations that people in the world (probably not the type I would invite to a BBQ) study this science a become doctors of food! Here is just a tiny molecule of information out there that I learned:

There are 3500 kCal (calories, as we know them to be) in 1 lb. of fat. If you want to lose 1 lb. of fat/week, you must divide this # by 7. That equals 500 kCal. So you must consume 500 fewer kCal each day than you use in order to lose 1 lb./week. So how many calories should you consume? It all depends. This is where the AP Chemistry and Biology students step in and do their magic while I go stand outside Krispy Kreme and daydream...

Here is one school of thought: Take your current weight (154) and multiply by 10 (1540). This is the amount that your body needs for basic body function (i.e. breathing, pumping blood, daydreaming). Add 300-400 for basic human existence (get up off couch, go to pantry, grab bag of delicious snack food, insert perfectly salty/spicy chips into mouth, chew, swallow, repeat, occassionally chase after stir-crazy child.) If you exercise a bit, add 500-600. If you exercise a TON, add 800-1000 (we're talking MAJOR work - a category I will never see). These calculations are just for maintenance. No losing or gaining - just staying exactly the same. Since I want to lose weight and I am not currently working out like I would like (2 month old baby is a bit of a hinderance...), here is what I figured:

1540 + 400 (because I am breast-feeding) = 1940 1940 - 500 = 1440

I should be consuming approx. 1440 kCal/day or about 10,000/week. I threw the weekly number in because there might be days when I am over and days when I am under (Yeah, right. Who am I kidding??) But this is only part of the equation...

Each day I should be eating approx. 5 meals: breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner. I can do a couple things with this.

A) Go to McDonald's. Order a double-quarter-pounder with cheese, french fries and a Diet Dr. Pepper. Don't eat again until tomorrow afternoon when I reach the point where my calories consumed becomes balanced again...

B) Divide this number by 4 (three normal meals & two "snack" meals) = 360/meal & 180/snack. Make smart choices and try to only eat the amount allotted at each meal.

I know what you are thinking... 360 CALORIES!! That's nothing!! I know. I know. My massive coffee consumption with delicious creamer could count for one entire meal! So what's a girl to do?

All food can be broken into three categories: Protein, Carbohydrates or Fat. These three things give our body very different things. Protein is the building-block of muscles. Carbohydrates are fuel that gives our body energy. Fat helps regulate hormones, keeps skin & hair health and aids in the body's overall efficiency.

If I choose option A above, I will consume each of these categories in one meal, but instead of 40% carbs, 40% protein, 20% fat (the ideal ratio for losing weight), it would be 40% carbs, 40% fat, 20% protein (the ideal ratio for looking like you eat at McDonalds).

I know there is SO MUCH information out there about diet and food, but this is a concentrated version of what I know. Yes, you need all three of the above. What determines whether you look like this:

Or this:

It all depends on the types of protein, carbs and fats you choose. Example: I can get carbs & fat from a grilled cheese sandwich OR I can get carbs & fat from oatmeal with flax seed mixed in. Which is better for your body?? Duh. The grilled cheese sandwich because it makes me happy - especially if its made with the fake "American" cheese, white bread and greased up with lots of butter!! I am kidding of course. The fat in flax seed is the good kind that will help lower your bad cholesterol & raise your good. The carbs in oatmeal are whole grains which your body digests slower, keeping you full longer and "cleans you out". So its not just the ratios that matter, it the quality of food that you eat. I get a lot more bang for my buck with oatmeal, protein powder & flax seed (180 cal. breakfast) that Capn' Crunch with milk (420 cal. breakfast). The hard part was finding delicious food to eat that was also healthy. UNTIL...

I found this great resource. It is called the internet. Have you heard of it?!? You can find virtually anything---I said ANYTHING---online. Serious. Like... DELICIOUS, healthy, balanced recipes that will satisfy even the pickiest of appetites. They ususally even tell you the calories, protein, carb & fat content in them. I drooled over my latest findings. Had to get some tissues and wipe the keyboard because I was so excited kind of drooling. Picture my chocolate lab, sitting outside the cracked patio door with 18 in. spaghetti drools hanging from her jowls while I cook something, anything in garlic. That's how good some of this shiz iz. I am so excited to rework my whole 'staple' meals with this stuff. We're talking meatloaf, flank steak, grilled veggies, lemon bars, lime-ginger tilapia, sweet-roasted chicken... I could go on but my computer is about to short from the mass amounts of liquid pooling around the keyboard.

I hope I have interpreted a miniature portion of all the vast amounts of knowledge out there about food that might help with the DIET portion of getting healthy (this is the hardest for me!!). Here are a couple links that helped me the most. Good luck and happy eating!!

Calorie King (calorie counting)

Bodybuilding.com - Find a Plan (walks you through ALL elements, not just nutrition) THE BEST WEBSITE EVER!! If you haven't checked it out, you could spend weeks on here learning about everything. It is my favorite!!

Muscle & Fitness Hers (recipes)

Oxygen (nutrition)

Day 2 - a whole 'nother story

Instead of telling you I spent the day running around like a chicken with my head cut-off and that was all I could squeeze in for a workout or that I only had a piece of pita bread with hummus for dinner or that my kids JUST went to bed, I will reduce my personal updates to a weekly status. I will, however, write everyday. It might take me a couple days to 'compose' something blogworthy, but I will write.

What is there to write about? Well, in the hours I spend neglecting my children to feed my current obsession, I am learning LOTS of new things! Things about food, calories, muscles, time management, food prepping, meal planning, carbohydrates, proteins, fats, and most recently "fat chicks who love protein"... I won't even begin to explain how/why/what of that statement. If only I could erase the images...

I will share my new-found knowledge with you - the one person who has chosen to read this. I have received a few questions from friends in these VERY early days and I will do my best to answer them periodically. This will also help me to learn my own body better, what triggers I have, what works best for me, what totally sucks, etc. If by some miracle of osmosis it helps you, GREAT! If I only slightly entertain you with my inappropriateness and candor, GREAT! If I can do both, JACKPOT! I'll get the tissues.

My newest epiphany: I am a stress-eater. (Explains SO MUCH about my current state!) This is a HUGE revelation because the first step is admission.

Hi. My name is Lisa and I use food to comfort me when I feel the world is about to collapse. In doing so, I subconsciously think that the mass consumptions of turtle sundae blizzards, fettuccine alfredo and Chili Verde Doritos will miraculously transform me into a scrapbooking, coupon-queen of a mother who takes her children to the park everyday, always has them perfectly dressed in coordinating outfits and coiffed hair, runs 5 miles before the sun comes up, keeps an immaculate house that is decorated well enough to be featured in Better Homes and Gardens, refurbishes old furniture in my free time and still has the energy to be a tigress in the bed - multiple times a day. Howz that for a diagnosis?!?

Ah, but low and behold... I am still here... in my nasty sweats that I don't even wear in front of my husband... face unwashed... sink full of dishes... washer and dryer BOTH with full loads in them... crumbs on the floor... I am going to bed. No tigress tonight. At least my teeth are brushed!

Day 1 Complete

The first day is always the easiest, right? Here is what I did...

Wake up at 7:30 with a baby still attached to my boob. Detach said child and make coffee so Phil has something awaiting him for Father's Day (I am such a bad wife!). Put on workout clothes, look at self in mirror. Pep talk. Gawd, this is going to be a lot of work!

Head upstairs, insert P90x Plyometrics into DVD player. Pray that the ballerina inside me takes over and I don't jostle the ceiling fans loose with my elephantitis jumping. Hit play.

Pant. Breathe. Drink. Curse. (repeat 8+ times) Get slapped in the butt by encouraging 7 year old while doing squat jacks. Thanks Liv. Stop jiggle in butt from slap. Squat lower.

Hear crying baby with 23 min. left in video. Don't give up. Bring baby onto couch to entertain him with gallivanting. Save baby from getting tossed off couch from elephantitis. Realize the internal ballerina is no longer employed here. She gave her notice years ago...

Feel guilty as the sound of clanking dishes rings up the stairwell as husband unloads dishwasher and feeds children ON FATHER'S DAY. Feel better as he meanders up the stairs with an encouraging smile, stating he will "do whatever it takes to help you be successful!" Guilt temporarily deterred.

Done with workout. Deep sigh. Let the real battle begin - food consumption.

Breakfast:
3/8 c. oatmeal with 1/2 scoop protein powder & 1 tsp. flax seed (200 c.)
12 oz. coffee w/ 3 T. creamer (my weakness!!) (90 c.)

Lunch:
6 in. chipotle chicken sandwich from Subway (400 c.)
1/3 apple

Dinner:
2 serv. tortilla chips + 1/2 c. salsa (335 c.)
2 slices artichoke chx. pizza (360 c.)
1 slice Hawaiian pizza (270) I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED AT 2!!
2 c. salad w/ 1 T. raspberry vinaigrette (90 c.)
2 glasses Pinot Noir (YUMMO!) (240 c.)

Final Damage: 1990 calories
SHIT.

It happened again!!!

Are you kidding me?!? Someone else thought I was pregnant... AGAIN! WTF?

Let me set the stage... It is Phil and my first REAL date since Elias was born. We are going to a comedy club to see his friend perform. Keep in mind I am obviously struggling with some MAJOR body issues thus creating a whirlwind of a disaster in our closet as I attempt to find something remotely non-30 and non-minvan-looking to wear. I know for certain none of my cute jeans fit so I don't even try. Okay. Preggo jeans. Hot. Now, what to do about the upper-half of my body? Nothing tight because I have a prevailing ex-baby bump and ridiculously out-of-proportion ta-tas that could suffocate a lesser man. Nothing with a pattern because... same dilema. Nothing short waisted because my boobs and belly make it half of a shirt and honestly. No one wants to see that shit. &*$K!!! What am I going to wear?!?


I stick with long, black and boring. As we are leaving to go pick up our young, cute, fun friends, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, realizing I am about to head downtown in a 2004 Honda Odyssey and offically feel 30. God. This sucks. I feel and look as old as I really am. What happened to the peppy, fun, hot 19 yr. old Phil met??? I always feel like her when I go on dates with him (He has absolutely gotten better with age, which doesn't help my current mental state!) I ate her, apparently.

Okay, I am over it. Here I am. Deal with it. Your husband LOVES you. He thinks your HOT and is excited to get any sort of attention from you considering you just came out of an incredibly hormonal pregnancy (=little action in the bedroom for 9 months) and recovery from delivering a baby (=NO action in the bedroom for 6 weeks). He's good with whatever you've got goin' on right now. That's all that matters. HE is all that matters. So just let it go and enjoy yourself or you just might end up with a bunch of holes all over the house from fits and... other things.

So we go to the comedy club and walk up to the booth to pay. A guy Phil knows is working, whom we haven't seen in about a year. They do the whole "Howyabeen" thing and smiles while pointing at my belly. Now keep in mind, MANY and I mean MANY people have told me they would NEVER say ANYTHING to a woman unless it was BLATANTLY OBVIOUS (interpretation: she was going to deliver any day). They apparently have made the same mistake this incredibly good-intentioned, poor chap is about to make. So what does he do? He opens his mouth. "Look at that! (again, pointing at my stomach) Man, congratulations!" Me: Smile and laugh. Smile and laugh. Inside feeling like I should plop myself in front of the TV in a Hawaiian-print mu-mu and buy stock in Doritos. Phil (my knight in shining armor): "Dude. She's not pregnant. We just had a baby."

A blank stare came over the guys face. I tried to decipher if it was taking a bit to process due to his consumption of Jack Daniels or if he was strategically planning his next move like the loser in the World Chess Championship who realizes he is about to hear either "check" or "check-mate." I hoped for the latter... How does he respond? As any upstanding citizen would do. He hops on his bicycle and starts back-pedaling as fast as his legs could take him.

After multiple apologies, he says "You definitely won't forget the first time you met me!" "Yeah, except we've met before." "Oh, damn. I'm sorry." --uncomfortable, sporadic laughter-- "Well, your first drink is on me. What can I get you?" His wife kindly whispers in his ear, "Honey, she's probably breastfeeding and can't drink you idiot." "Right. I am so sorry." Me: Hell yes I am drinking you &%$*chop! Make it a double! But instead, I walk (or should I say waddle) away to find my seat.

Now I lead with this story because it really does set the stage for what I am about to expose. You see, I have never thought of myself as fat. Well... not until recently. I have been heavier than I would like at times but never really obsessed or thought too much about it. I was lucky. If I didn't like how I looked, my body would eventually level itself out after a few months of eating healthy and *sort of* being active. Phil teases me because in the 12 years he had known me, I have never consistently worked out for more than a few months. Basically long enough to notice some changes, then I quit, because I had better things to do with my time (like take care of a child or put myself through school). But I have also never been really fit - just looked okay with strategically chosen clothes that flattered what I wanted to show and hid what I didn't.

But slowly and surely, I have packed extra on with every pregnancy and never really worked it off. This sounds so familiar... can you say "suburban housewife"?? Wait... that's what I am!! I know for certain that I am one of those who needs at least a solid 2 years to fully recover from pregnancy. I need time to get my hormones stabilized, my body back, my mental capacities, etc. TWO YEARS! When it does, this is what I get:

Not bad, but not totally fit either... just normal.

When I don't get my mandatory recovery time, this is what I get:

Seriously. This is me today. When you see me at the pool, this is what is hiding under my swimsuit cover that I will absolutely NOT take off even if my child is drowning. Its coming in the water with me! So here I am. Laying it all out there for everyone is cyber-everywhere to see. I can't believe I am doing this!!! But forcing myself to deal with the reality of it will only help me... right? No laughing and pointing. No whispering. No gasps. Well, okay. I mean you are safely judging me in the comfort of your own home, parked in front of your computer screen where no one will hear your criticism. Go ahead. Zoom in and check out my dimples. Gawk at my stretch marks. I have already done this multiple times.

Here is the damage report:
Age: 30
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 154 lbs.
Body Fat: 28.9%
BMI: 24.1
Waist to Height Ratio: 0.49
(all of the info. above indicated I am obese or borderline obese)
Bust: 39" (seriously.)
Waist: 35.5"
Hips: 44"
Thigh: 24"
Arm: 11.5"
So the plan is this:

• Cut calories to 15oo max. per day


• Exercise AT LEAST 5 days/week for 60 minutes (gym, P90X, run, etc.)


• Balance protein/carbs/fats to a 40:40:20 ratio


• Increase water consumption (1 gal/day)

Bottom line: I need to get this shiz under control! My goal is to be at fightin' weight by the time school starts again. I am setting little goals for myself as motivation. If I work out for one week consistently, I get a facial. One month: a massage. If I make/maintain my goal weight by my birthday (October), I get a tattoo! Oh, it's on... like Donkey Kong! Who's with me?!?

!ObSeSsIoN!

Instead of blogging, I have been obsession over this:

FIT FEMALE BODIES! When I say obsessed, I am serious! It is on the verge of stalking in a slightly lesbian infatuation sort of way blended with an immense amount of jealousy, a double shot of admiration and a splash of awe, all shaken well together and served over ice. I don't know how else to describe it.

I search the pages of Bodybuilding.com's female transformation stories, Oxygen.com, Muscle and Fitness Hers and any other body building website (even Facebook!) looking for transformation stories with *some* shred of similarity to me (same height, had children before,k age, hair color, favorite day of the week, anything!) to give me motivation to kick my own ass. I spend all my time til the wee hours of the morn staring at these incredibly chiseled specimens just wishing their muscle magic would spill over from the computer and onto the flabbiness that is my post-baby body. I do this after every pregnancy - obsess. It seems to get more intense each time. This time it is completely overwhelming me! I am sure it has NOTHING to do with the fact that our local Walgreen's clerk thought I was still pregnant... Nah. It's DEFINITELY not that...

Where does this obsession come from?? I love, LOVE women with muscles! I am not talking about the deep voice, vaguely feminine version who would school Phil in an arm wrestle, but beautiful, completely feminine, STRONG women with muscles - like this:

(BTW: This woman has two children and used to be completely out of shape! She is my motivation!)

And this:

I could fill PAGES with pictures I am in love with. I did say slightly lesbian infatuation, right??? Nevertheless, I am OBSESSED with looking at all these fit bodies thinking that somehow if I channel their strength, I might just wake up looking like that. Right. Instead, I wake up looking like this:

I remember the first time I started noticing *REAL* muscle on my body. I was in high school, "working out" at the YMCA. (For a high school girl, working out mean sort of moving on the elliptical machine for maybe 15 minutes while flipping through the pages of the latest fashion/gossip magazine but never working hard enough to sweat or even become winded. Followed by picking up a 5lb. weight, maybe 8 if you're feelin' it and checking yourself out in the mirror, all the while making sure the high school boys were watching.) I must have been "feelin' it" that day because I was doing upright rows and saw something... Is that a muscle on my shoulder or a weird dimple?! It better NOT be a weird dimple! Wait, I can see when I pull on this weight... I think its a muscle... Holy Sh*t! I have a muscle! A visible one! Seriously?! That is cool... wait... is it? Do boys like that?... WHO CARES! I like it! Where else do I have muscles??? Oh... nowhere... that's right... I am not really working out to create any...

Since my muscular epiphany, I started noticing other women around who had them and have since fallen head-over-heels in LOVE with strong women. Some may find my infatuation unattractive. Some may prefer a softer version of the female physique. That's cool! I think the reason I love it so much is not just because it looks cool, but also because it is the manifestation of the idea that I AM A STRONG WOMAN. I CAN DO ANYTHING A BOY CAN DO. This was deeply rooted in me as a child and still sticks with me today. Even though I know I can't, I will pretend I can kick some male ass, talk like I can, think like I can.

So why waste my time blogging about this when I could be obsessing more and finding new images to stare at??? Or better yet, actually do the work to look like those women?? I don't know. I WISH I could look like them... I WISH I could be one that is obsessed about instead of doing the obsessing. I WISH I could stop craving Chili Cheese Fritos and Fruit Loops at 11pm. I WISH I had a personal trainer and supernanny so I could actually get a killer workout in. I WISH I loved the taste of quinoa or egg whites or plain oatmeal. I WISH...

Maybe secretly, if I put it out there for the 3.7 people who actually read this blog, it will force me to hold myself accountable. I know it is all about motivation. I know its all about choices. I know its all about work. I know what to eat. I know how to workout. I know, I know, I KNOW!! So why am I not doing it??

I also know that changes like this don't happen overnight. If I want to see any changes, I have to be consistent and patient - two words that are NOT in my native tongue (case in point - my BLOG!). Sporadic and scatter-brained are much more familiar. Regardless, it is time to take steps. I hate that I was mistaken for being pregnant. I hate that my belly still sticks out farther than my boobs. I hate that my 7 year old says thinks like "Remember when you were healthy?", "Are you going to eat that, Mom?" and "I can't wait for your tummy to be little again." Yeah. Me too. Way to call me out, Liv. The fact that I had a baby 8 weeks ago is no longer a viable excuse anymore. (Don't give me the 9 months on... 9 months off reasoning!) I just had my post-partum check-up and my uterus is NORMAL sized. It is no longer causing the bulge that is hanging off my hips. What you see left is my blubber. 20 lbs. of leftover blubber. And not a visible muscle in sight... SHIT! I have a lot of work to do. This is the WORST I have ever looked and from this point forward, the worst I WILL EVER look.

I am starting tomorrow. Phil is checking my BMI, Body Fat %, weight, measurements, etc. and creating a workout plan that will fit into the craziness that we call our life. I will post it all here, pictures and ALL! I am seriously letting it all hang out there for you (me). You will see the reality I write about. So why make this a public affair? Simple. Accountability. I will post regularly about my food, workouts, good days, crappy days, struggles, successes, epiphanies... basically everything. If someone wants to join me on my journey to be 30, flirty and fabulous, GREAT! Misery loves company! Wish me luck! I am READY! Ready to not look down and see this anymore.

I want to see this...

Rock My World

In 24 hours, I will be welcoming a beautiful, baby boy into the world. How do I know this? Because it is "scheduled"... How can you schedule the introduction of new life? Medicine. Sorry God, I'm taking over for a moment.



The whole thought of this process is SO WEIRD to me. I am struggling with it for this very reason. How can I pick a day on a calendar and say "I want to bring life into the world on.... that day." It works with my schedule, his schedule, their schedule... it really is absurd to me.
I know there are many before (and many after... like 15 minutes after!) who have/are doing this and I realize that it really is no big deal. It is tried and true with little complications, but I guess at my heart, I am more of a naturalist. Sign me up for acupressure, herbal teas, good ol' fashioned boot-knockin', but artificial hormones? Driving to the hospital not in labor to know that I will have a baby put into my arms before the day is up? It just seems a little too "planned". I much prefer the "unknown... anxiety of wishing it would come... not sure if this is really it... holy cow my water broke... Let's go! Ouch this hurts!" scene. I am trying to reason my way through my emotions right now. Knowing myself, my logic will win, but 7 years from now, what will I tell my lil' guy about his entry into our life? Well, Son, we were really tired of having you stuck inside your mom so we served you an eviction notice and here you are! Not too exciting.**Please note: If you are one of the millions who elect to induce labor, please know I am NOT judging your decision. I am simply putting on a computer screen some of the apprehensions I have about my own choice to go this (new!) route. Bear with me...**



Back story: Since 28 weeks, the alkaline phosphatase levels in my blood have been astronomical. What do I mean? Well, normal range is below 100, elevated in pregnancy can get up to 180 (the placenta produces this protein in your blood, causing an elevation during pregnancy). My levels have (at times) exceeded 1700+. Yes. 1-7-0-0. Why? Your guess is as good as mine, or my doctors, or any high risk professionals at St. Luke's. My sweet doctor is perplexed, thus the reason she even mentioned early induction. So I am trusting her judgement and going with it.


Some of the reasons for the elevated levels can be preeclampsia, gall stones, kidney infection... the list goes on and on and on. I have been screened for all of this PLUS and alas, no conclusion. I just get to turn into the local junky with track marks all over my arms from the weekly blood draws to monitor this lovely little protein strand. Yeah.



So here I sit - T minus 24 hours from having a baby boy and not sure if I should call the dr. and cancel. Can I cancel? I know if it were his timing (and HIS), there would be a NO CANCELLATION policy, but right now I have a choice. What do I choose??? I have been trying acupressure, walking, spicy food, etc. to get him going on his own. I am selfishly doing this to alleviate the guilt I have from sort-of forcing him out early, but I guess when I comes down to motives, its all the same. I am trying to get him out early one way or another.

The other issue I have is the due date. Both of our girls were born on their actual due dates! How cool is that?! (How planned and predictable am I though?) So with this, our last, his due date is our 10 year anniversary! That is pretty amazing to me. I think it would be beautiful if he was born on that date (May 5th). Happy anniversary Babe! Here, I give you a SON! That is one gift that can't be trumped... and Phil and I have a little "competition" going on with our anniversaries each year. See this post for more details. But with this medical intervention backed by a little selfish uncomfortableness, I have officially sealed the deal that it WON'T happen. Damn!

I have been thinking though... and yes, it would be amazing this year... and maybe next year... but what about in subsequent years? When he is 11, what gets bumped?
With all these apprehensions, I am meandering around our house, stewing... a great feeling when you are 39 weeks preggo. But I know myself. I will show up on the 2nd floor tomorrow morning at 7 am with bells on, ready to go because I am ridiculously logical and I can make a "safer" case for the induction than I can for cancelling. My organs, my lower spine, my kankles, my husband and my sex drive will be much appreciative of my choice. Wish me luck that as they are taking down my information, miraculously, my water breaks and contractions ensue.


In honor of my LAST (fingers crossed there are no surprises!), I have to bare my belly because it will be missed. It has been a BIG part of my life for the past few months and I am sad to say good-bye to this well-rounded friend. Bring on the P-90X!

Betrayal

I did something today that I never thought I would do. I betrayed the teenage version of myself with a simple, seemingly minor thing. The girl that I used to be... the woman I am... the girl I have known for the past 30 years did something COMPLETELY out of character. This action, this choice I made may not seem like a big deal to many and still for others, it can be a good thing. But for me, I almost went over the edge. But...

I didn't. I teetered there. Peered out over the vast terrain that would and could become me, even liked some of what I saw. But then something happened. A rubber band inside my head snapped. I was jolted out of the beautifully logical trance that had hypnotized me and I regained my footing. I quickly turned from it and drove away as fast as I could. Literally.

You see, I test drove a minivan. Yep. I did. That's what all this is about.

I have come to understand there are two schools of thought on the subject of minivans. Either pro or con. There is no in-between. Many have been converted from one side to the other, but in most cases, it is black and white. It is one of those subjects not mentioned in casual conversations - kind of avoided the same way people avoid talking religion, abortion, politics, etc. No minivan talk in suburbia. We have our own mini-gaza strip and you better pick a side.

I can't explain why I feel so compelled to avoid driving a minivan. Logic escapes me. But what I have discovered is that my opinion is NOT based on logic, but on something rooted deep in my bones. It might stem from the fact that I come from the first generation of minivan moms. We were raised in them. We were embarrassed in them. We learned to drive in them. We learned to DETEST them. 80's minivans were NOT cool. It is sort of like the station wagons of the 70's. If you were raised in a station wagon in the 70's, odds are you will never. EVER. be caught dead driving one. Especially if it has wood paneling on it. So thus, I arrive at today.

My excitement this morning centered around the fact that I had a $25 coupon for a Shark Vac then Mop at Costco. Seriously. I was elated to be able to go the the store and buy a CLEANING APPLIANCE... for myself. One that I have been wanting for months. One that would catch my eye on an infomercial and I would waste 20 minutes of my day watching and debate whether I should call so I get the hand-held steamer to clean my shower! MY GOD! What is wrong with me?! This is where my mind has been lately. In the trance of MOM.

In the face of turning 30, embarking on a decade of marriage, having an almost-7-year old, a 17 month old and a new baby on the way, I think a wave of "momness" has overcome my brain. I have been packing my lunch for school, using my free time to clean my house (not because I had to), keeping up on laundry (sort of), organizing things, feeling crafty, planning meals... Who IS this responsible person looking back at me in the mirror and where the hell is Lisa???

I started entertaining the idea of minivans a couple months ago and it completely infested my brain. I would notice them around town, think about them... even dream about them. Then one day I did it. I spoke about them. The word came out of my mouth. It sounded as foreign to me as Portugese. But slowly, each day, it started to make more and more sense. I did a little research, thought about the reasons TO buy one... and that was it. The moment you allow logic to override your decision-making, this is the moment you have lost the battle. You see, I have discovered minivan logic is irrefutable. Plain and simple. They make sense. You cannot come up with a legitimate, sound, logical reason NOT to drive one. There are none. Or at least I have not found one. And so I was infected with the desire to replace my cute mid-size SUV with a much larger momivan.

You may be asking, "what is the big deal?" And really, there is none. I drove a Volvo sedan before this and I think that said MOM just as loudly as a minivan does. But the moment I let my decisions be ruled by infallable logic, this is when I stop being me. I don't choose a pair of shoes because I think they are super comfortable and I could teach on my feet all day in them. No! I choose shoes because they are cute, look good and don't hurt when I walk 4 feet at the store in them. Later on, I may be hating my choice, but goddamit, I will stick it out. No logic there! And underwear... I don't buy underwear that are comfortable and make sense by not riding up each time to take a step. No! I buy the ones that are sexy, leave no VPL (meaning they are up my a** all day) and match one of my bras. Again, not the best logic. HOWEVER, if I refuse to use good logic for what I put on my body, then how can I change my decision-making for what I put in my garage? I feel like I would have to trade in my "HOT WIFE" card and only be left with my "MOM" card. I don't want to just be a mom, I desperately want to FIRST be a hot wife, then a mom!

Now I have to defend a bit, so bear with me. I have seen many a HOT MOM step out of a minivan (have you been to my school??) and I know they exist abundantly in Suburbia. However, I feel that I would be less hot wife and more mom in converting. I don't have the ability to OWN the minivan. And I mean OWN it. Call me petty, call me immature, call me whatever. But I know myself and if I am already finding excitement in my Vac-then-Steam floor cleaner, I need some help - and it won't come in the form of an uber comfortable, extra-roomy, economical, shiny momivan.

I have to keep some things that are more "Lisa" and less "Olivia's mom" - like my string bikini, my pink, snake-skin stilletos... and my car. But I feel, right now, I am losing the battle. I am waaaaay more "mom" right now than anything else. This is possibly due to the fact that my belly looks like a basketball and there is nothing of myself that belongs to me. I am just a vessel for life and have no ounce of independence outside of my mominess. My face is starting to show signs of "mom", I have a "mommy butt" and I can't stop cleaning/organizing/planning around my house.

So maybe my rebellion to the minivan is a result of my hormonal desire to return to me, or maybe it is something more. Either way, I will NOT be driving one again soon because they are far too tempting for my logical brain and my husband refuses to make-out with me in the back seat of one.