Victory 'Til The Storm Is Gone

A few things:

My Vancouver Canucks swept the St. Louis Blues last night. It was epic (no really, it was - the Canucks have never swept a team before, in franchise history.) The game got a bit dicey after St. Louis managed to tie it up, but Burrows (officially my new favourite player) got the winning goal with 19 seconds left in the first overtime. The city went wild. My head is hurty today. The end. Now we've got a week or so to rest up before the second round of playoffs begin.

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To everyone who commented on my 30 Day Shred nonsense yesterday: Thank you for not laughing at me. I don't know what I was thinking. Level 2? Come on now. I was fine yesterday morning but by the time I got home from work, my arm, chest, and back muscles were a tight little ball of hatred. I didn't even do Level 1 last night. Tonight I am going to do Level 1 again and just amp up the cardio a bit by doing my jumping jacks and whatnot while holding my cans of beans (thanks to whoever suggested that. I'd go back and find out who you are and link to you but I can't. See: hurty head.)

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Wolfgang peed on Stella's head last night. Intentionally. He actually propped his leg up on her back so that he could get some stability and better aim. And peed on her head (and in her water bowl, as she was having a drink of water at the time.) I don't really know why he did it. They had been wrestling. They both ran to get some water. Stella got there first and wouldn't let Wolfgang have a drink (they each have a water dish and both dishes always have water in them. It doesn't matter though. The water dish they want is the one that the other dog is drinking out of. Every time.) So he peed on her. And that's pretty much all I can say about that.

And that's all I've got. How are you doing this fine Wednesday morning?

Fat Bottomed Girls, You Make The Rocking World Go Round

This post has been languishing as a draft for a few weeks. I was being a bit of a wiener about putting it up, so I'm scheduling it to post while I'm away (so I can't change my mind.)

Last year I had pneumonia and lost a bit of weight. Even though physically I felt like crap, it was the first time in a long time I felt happy with the way I looked. So of course it was completely logical for me to go out and buy my wedding dress. I bought my dress from a sample sale. Wedding dress samples are sewn for women who are 5'8" (which I just happen to be) so I ended up with a dress that fit me perfectly with no alterations needed (and for 60% off the regular price ... can someone please be as impressed with this as I am?)

Anyone who is more in touch with reality than I am knows that when you lose weight from being sick, you gain it back pretty quickly. Which I did. Then it was Christmas and I added even more weight. I cannot say no to baked goods. If there was a Baked Goods Anonymous I would be a member. A member that routinely slipped up and fell off the wagon, but a member nonetheless.

After Christmas I decided that I was going to take control. I know that I eat too much sugar. I know that I snack too much and make unhealthy snacking choices. I decided that rather than try a diet (which would be setting myself up for failure seeing as I have little to no willpower) I would come up with the Skinny Bitch Rules. For example:

Skinny Bitches eat salad with their dinner instead of garlic bread.

Skinny Bitches drink sparkling water with a twist of lime instead of pop.

Skinny Bitches do not drink midweek because that one glass of wine with dinner is just gratuitous calories.

Skinny Bitches walk the dog, every day.

Things were going well. The pair of jeans I bought at Christmas started to feel a bit large. My arm flap was less droopy. I started to feel good about myself.

But then the Crazy crept in and started twisting the Skinny Bitch Rules. All of a sudden, Skinny Bitches drink black coffee for breakfast and Skinny Bitches don't snack between meals. I saw Turtle last weekend and she told me that when she hugged me, I felt bony. I cannot describe how good that made me feel and how ashamed I am to admit it. I don't want being thin to feel like an accomplishment. I want to feel healthy and strong and, yes, thin. I've seen the term "fat skinny" floating around recently (but I don't know who coined it so I can't give credit where it's due.) This is what I am. I am not overweight but I am unhealthy. I doubt that I could run up a flight of stairs without being horrendously out of breath when I got to the top. I have no upper body strength. I have not lost weight healthily so my body is not balanced - I may feel bony up top but I am thick and jiggly on the bottom. Every day I become more and more pear-shaped.

The way I look shouldn't matter. I'm smart and funny and I make great cookies. I'm 5'8" - I will never be considered petite. I will never (healthily) weigh 100lbs. I need to get over it. I need to find balance. Somewhere between drinking black coffee for breakfast and eating pancakes with berries and cream for breakfast is my happy medium. My oatmeal with skim milk and cinnamon. My oatmeal is the place where I'm okay with being a different size on the bottom than I am on top. My oatmeal is the place where I'm happy with eating grilled vegetables instead of steak for dinner. I just need to figure out how to find my oatmeal.

Let Me Hear Your Body Talk

I went to the gym last night. I am so svelte this morning. I feel skinnier already.

Even though I only lasted for 10 minutes on the stationary bike. And had a bit of an unfortunate incident with the treadmill which resulted in me staying on it for maybe 30 seconds. I'm very clumsy. Clumsy people should not use treadmills. There should be a warning on the treadmill: "If you are clumsy and you use this treadmill you will die." Then clumsy people (like me) wouldn't even attempt to use the them. I also did free-weights, which felt good at the time but does not feel good today. I can't lift my arms above my shoulders. It hurts to type.

It feels good to be sticking to my New Years' Resolutions though. I watched a new tv show this weekend called Bulging Brides. It made me realize just how much I don't want to be, erm .... bulgy. So hopefully it will motivate me to keep going to the gym. The gym in our building is fully operational now so I don't have any excuses.

So clearly my resolution to stop procrastinating isn't going so well (I watched Bulging Brides instead of doing homework.) This week will be the week that I become efficient. I will complete my assignment and I will motor through the next module. Unless there's a new episode of Bulging Brides to watch.

I have kept my resolution to wear mascara to work (this isn't much of an accomplishment, seeing as it's pretty much the easiest resolution. Ever.) I've only missed the last few days because I exfoliated my eye again. *sigh*

Feel No Shame For What You Are, Feel It As A Waterfall

My Happy New Year post is a day late. I've already broken my resolution to stop procrastinating. Fabulous. I blame this entirely on S, who (at 10pm on New Year's Eve) decided that we should get out of our pyjamas, tear ourselves away from the fireplace, and head downtown for some New Year's Eve festivities. Not that I wasn't a willing participant, it's just that it's so much easier to blame a raging hangover on someone else, rather than take responsibility for one's own actions. New Year's Eve was fun and boozy and included everything New Year's Eve should (good friends, loud music, copious amounts of gin, glitter! tiaras! top hats! oh my!)

Which brings us to New Year's Day. A day for resolutions. I am not so good at resolutions, having very little will power and not a modicum of self-discipline. I have had very little success with New Year's resolutions in the past but this year will be different (*sigh* where have I heard this before? Oh yeah, last year. Crap.) This year I will wear mascara every work day because that is what grown-ups do. I will lose 10 pounds, not by dieting (because of the no will power + no self-discipline problem) but by eating less crap. My sweet tooth is out of control; 2008 will be the year that I conquer it. Not quite sure how I'll manage that but I'm thinking that a too-small wedding dress will help to motivate me. As for the less shallow resolutions, this year I resolve to be more patient, less moody and try to be more of an optimist. I have serious doubts about my ability to be more optimistic, but hey - go big or go home.

And now I will try to redeem my procrastination resolution and crack open a textbook. I am supposed to write an exam this month for a course I started last fall. I'm on module 2 of 10. Here's hoping that my course extension comes through.

Wouldn't It Be Nice If I Could Melt Myself Like Ice Or Outrun My Skin And Just Be Pure Wind

This picture was taken the night of my company Christmas party but because my camera cable was MIA, I couldn't upload it until today. It marks the 8-month countdown to our wedding. I'm posting it as motivation. This is what I look like in December. In August? In August my arms will not be flabby. I will not have chipmunk cheeks. I will get my eyebrows waxed by a professional for the first time. S will stop slouching (I look like a giant next to him in this picture but in real life he towers over me by about 6 inches.)

I am not usually so image-obsessed. I go through phases of dissatisfaction with various parts of my body (I'm a woman - I won't apologize) but I've never felt so utterly disgusted with how I look. It's no coincidence that I've also never been as inactive as I've been in the past few months. The wedding will be fabulous if I am wearing a size 2 or a size 12. I will be happy if my arms are toned and muscular or if they are flabby and wing-like. S loves me and my chipmunk cheeks and multiple chins. I know all this and yet ... in my twisted way of thinking, I've convinced myself that I will be happier, the wedding will be better, S will love me more if I lose 10 pounds / tone up the flab / grow my hair / cut my hair, etc. I am suffering from a case of the crazy.

It goes without saying that any form of weight loss plan will not go into effect until after Christmas. I have no will power under normal circumstances and Christmastime in our family is anything but normal circumstances. Not only because of crazy family stress but also because of the stupid amounts of Christmas baking that goes on. I haven't eaten a proper meal in days, unless dipping shortbread and oranges in melted chocolate counts as a proper meal. I wish I lived in a world where chocolate-dipped shortbread and orange slices were considered a balanced diet.