Thank you for the perfectly lovely, perfectly rational, perfectly thoughtful response.
I keep telling myself the very same thing. This isn’t about the “diet,” this is something other. Something different. It’s like a science fair experiment with by body and the fuels I put in it.
… I just don’t want to end up back with the “on the wagon / off the wagon” BS that used to give me such much trouble. That’s my only real hesitation.
Because … there is not wagon, there is no wago, there is no wagon.
Bizzaro Dream I had Last Night
Last night I had a dream that I woke up — suddenly — in another man’s bed. And the reason I woke up so suddenly is that his mother had walked in and caught us together. She was furious — a witchy, banshee of fury. She took my cell phone and then chased me home (this part was more of a jump cut) where I appeared, terrified, and kept asking my Dad to help me. Make her leave me alone. Make her stop yelling at me. Make her give me my phone back.
Her face was like a that Edvard Munch painting, but animated. Vicious.
My dad was disappointed in me. He kept shaking his head. But he still wanted to protect me, so he called the police.
I kept waffling between standing up to her and telling her that I was going to do what the hell ever I wanted to and show up in whomever’s bed I chose … and being calm and submissive and trying to calm her down that way. Nothing worked. Fury either way.
Eventually the police showed up, but they didn’t understand the problem. And I couldn’t make them understand. No matter how hard I tried.
I know it’s not interesting to hear about other people’s dreams. TL;DR … and a whole lot of who cares. But I wanted to share anyway.
Anybody have any experience with The Plan (Lyn Genet)? My trainer pointed me towards it. It’s basically an elimination diet with a focus on subsisting out which foods cause an inflammatory response in your individual, unique snowflake of a body.
There’s enough common sense wrapped up in it that I’m giving it some serious consideration … Even though my official policy is that I don’t DO diets.
Anybody have a word or two to share about it?
Now that I’ve complained about my jaw (IT STILL HURTS! I CAN’T CLOSE MY MOUTH ALL THE WAY!), I thought I’d share a little photo or two from our weekend in Paso Robles. My dog probably had as much fun as any of us — he met a llama, a peacock, some goats, barked at horses … and generally had a good time begging around for turkey.
The place was completely and utterly and breathtakingly beautiful. And there was a hot tub. And we drank wine and saw some shooting stars in it. And my future husband is handsome and awesome and went out on the day after Thanksgiving and bought me a mouth guard and some extra strength pain killer stuff. And for that — if nothing else — I will double marry him come June.
So … the stress of the past few weeks culminated into ridiculousness over the Thanksgiving holiday. Wanna hear? (Of course you do!)
I’ve been hecka stressed out. Work stuff. Family stuff. Wedding planning stuff. Misc. stuff. Just … hecka stressed. But Thanksgiving weekend (including a long weekend, a farm house in Paso Robles with friends, sleeping in, workouts on the farm, turkey, wine tasting … bliss) was on the horizon. And I had the idea if I could just GET THERE everything would be fine.
My body had other ideas. My body dug in its heels.
Apparently, Wednesday night WHILE I WAS SLEEPING, my jaw revolted and decided to get all bent out of shape. (Possibly due to stress-related teeth griding. When I finally talked to my dentist about it on Monday, she was like, “Yeah, it’s kind of like you sprained your ankle … but in your mouth.” Which were words I never thought I’d hear strung together.
Instead of my weekend of Friendsgiving blissfulness … I slept (fitfully, always afraid I was going to exascerbate my jaw) ridiculously late every day (The 4-year-old actually stopped me one morning and said, “Why do you sleep too much?”), was irritable and cranky most mornings, until I gave in and started drinking wine (which actually seemed to help), and was generally miserable.
Grumble grumble grumble.
I HEAR YOU, BODY. YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SHOUT!
(Pictured: Mashed potato and cauliflower soup … because I’m not supposed to chew too much so … soups time!)
Today included a 3 1/2 hour hike around Mt Tam. D’s idea. An awesome idea.
No better who and what on a Sunday.
(Maybe I should marry him or something …)
This week was looong. It had a conference in it. And I got rained on. And I did 200 burpees in it. So I’m saying goodbye and goodnight to this week with a hot toddy (or two).
Au revoir, week that wore me out. Au-re-fucking-voir.
Natural Deodorant FTW
Today I daringly tried a new natural deodorant recipe. I decided that it was easy in enough, enough in line with my (aspirational) ideals, and low-risk enough to give it a go.
All day conference. Walking all over the city. And I am pleasant. Coco-nutty … Like suntan lotion. Not bad.
I can’t believe it works so well. Though, based on the low melting temperature of my coconut oil mixture, I’m guessing it doesn’t travel well or stand up in high temps.
We’ll cross they bridge when we get to it. In the meantime — natural deodorant FTW!
This is how I’m ending my weekend. Because I am someone who does 35 burpees after a 45-minute workout and oodles of walking, eats lots of protein and vegetables … And sometimes eats ice cream with boozey cherries on top.
Au revoir, weekend!
1,000 Burpees, Conference Week, And Moderation
- Today, my Sunday fitty buddies and shook hands and agreed to each do 1,000 burpees before the year ends (averages out to a sniff over 22 per day … I have 25 under my belt today and am planning to do a few more after my dinner settles.
- Speaking of dinner … Tonight I made a yummy ground turkey and quinoa meatloaf. It was delicious. I win at dinner.
- This week, my healthy habits are being challenged. I’ll be at a conference Monday thru Thursday. Conferences are exhausting. The food available is usually barely mediocre. I won’t be near my gym, so I’m trying to figure out how to fit in workouts. But that’s ok. I’ll figure it out. I’m gonna be just fine. No biggie. (But I am a little nervous a this rocking my boat.)
- Moderation. Amen.
Fitty Sunday morning shenanigans. I like our new tradition. I like seeing these ladies’ smiling faces and having a fun, catch up where we socialize in the context of exercise — versus only in excess.
I adore these gals. That is all.
This week is making me medium crazy. My project launched. I got drunk with colleagues on Wednesday. I’m so tired that I whimper when my alarm goes off. My puppy is still in a cone — which means he needs TLC … which requires time. D is directing some sketches in a show in a few weeks, so he’s at rehearsals every ngiht. Family drama is flaring back up. And tonight I’m doing a reading and am terrified. And I bought a wedding dress on Tuesday. So ALL OF THE THINGS. Noooo biggie.
Thank goodness for steak, salads, and spin class. (The 3 Essential S’s)
Fergus has been sentenced to a cone because he scratched his healing nose all up. I’m trying to be sympathetic (because HIS DIGNITY!), but watching him try to maneuver his life right now is pretty darn hilarious.
Things that are funnier with him in a cone:
- Walking through a room
- Running! through a room
- Getting a drink of water
- Trying to position himself on my lap
- Trying to sniff anything
- Pretty much everything else he does
Also … He kiiiiind of looks like a badass flower. So maybe he wins after all.
I found these today. From a reading I did this summer. A memoir project … which made me once again 100% certain that memoirs are not my medium. But a good exercise nonetheless.
I like me when I’m reading. It feels right. Standing there with my own words in my mouth. Telling stories. Mmmmm …
This is not a flattering photo of me BUT THAT’S OK. My fitty buddies look lovely, and the bay looks lovely, and it doesn’t matter that I don’t.
This isn’t me not being confident or hating on my body or whatever. It’s just a really unflattering photograph. (Perhaps made more unflattering by the fact that I wanted to murder my friend for what she was trying to do to my thighs.)