Oxymorons & Hangovers

Friday: Satellite office meeting with several co-workers, post tension heavy day of layoffs in the work place, study guide review for human sexuality test, stir fry dinner and Hypnotiq + raspberry lemonade blends served to me in martini glasses by Kimberly who claimed, "I'm such a good boyfriend." Fell asleep hard during Waiting.

Saturday: Up early, little sister's ass-kicking volleyball game, long hike, long blissful nap. Girls only poker party, more Hypnotiq at the house.

Sunday: Woke to sounds of a new addition to the house, long drive out to SD for the vacation ownership presentation with Ree, left with free trip to Catalina Island voucher, wine tasting tour tickets, and a gift certificate toward concert tickets at a handful of venues (HellYeah is on the calendar for one!), more study guide, rum + Cokes, Dropkick Murphys DVD, long talks about religion with a good friend.

At some point during the weekend adventures, I bought some more knee high argyles, which make for twelve plus inches of happy. And I fit some purple six gauges into my ears, making them so very sore that I'm having trouble sleeping. I don't expect anyone to get that, and fully expect criticism.

Saturday's hike was important to me, as I am adamant about losing those last remaining pounds (before hitting my ten percent goal, not overall goal) before my birthday. At the site of a long, skinny lizard, my younger sister about shed her own skin and yelped like you've never heard. The trail we went along is behind my first high school, winding up and up a too-steep-to-be-called-a-hill, too-low-to-be-called-a-mountain and then curving back down to flat land. I always say So Cal has no nature to it... we're already ripped off when it comes to starry skies... but up there along the dirt paths, in the shade of hundreds of trees, I'm reminded that there are some remote locations that aren't all pavement and smog.

Sunday morning brought a new addition to the already crowded house:

Kiddo proudly displays Maximus, an eight-week-old Jack Russell.  With the night came the high-pitched yelps of a lonely new puppy, rivaled by the barking of our five-month-old Jack Russell, Mocha. This will be a rough transition and it isn't beyond me to start kicking teeth it.

I'm kidding. Mostly.

Can I get a double shot of optimism, please?

I work in the new home industry and in southern California, we’re not exactly booming. Numerous industries are taking huge hits as the housing market gets slower and slower. My company alone has done several lay offs over the past two weeks. The hours pass and the gloom thickens as you watch another friend walk out of the building with an overflowing cardboard box clutched to their chest. One of my very, very close friends was the unlikely recipient of the news this week. I once referred to her as the sugar in the black coffee of my workday. It’s looking bleak. But I’m still here and I suppose that should keep me optimistic.

Last night at my weigh-in, I lost less than I anticipated. Even though the number dropped, I was still sorely disappointed in myself. I sat through an eye exam (NEW PURPLE GLASSES IN TEN DAYS OR LESS!) and went straight home to drag my little sister out on a walk with me. To keep our marrow from freezing we broke into a jog for a bit and I was surprised with my own endurance, stopping only when my sis complained that her side ached. The rest of the week will be similar to this and I’ve asked a couple friends to encourage me to move my ass. In twelve days, I celebrate my twenty-third birthday and I am adamant about reaching my twenty pound loss by that day. I can, I can, I can, I will.

PS - Sis needed a lift to Border's the other night and since I practice absolutely no self-control in a book store, I accidentally left with these:

 

...I'm abnormally excited to have new books.

-Geeky Lush

On Self-Esteem

I'm not and never have been a host for confidence about myself. I'll be the first to tell you I'm an absolute trainwreck about most things, the one thing I am most passionate about is a mediocre talent of mine, if that, I do not like my body, I feel inadequate at almost everything I do, etc. I am typical and/or pessimistic, depends on to what degree you hear me out. You already knew that. But I will have you know that I have lost almost thirteen pounds in three weeks, through Weight Watchers. It's one of the only things I've ever accomplished? achieved?... that made me say without irony, I'm awesome.

*grin*

Out Goes Fettucine Alfredo

This entry won't change the general theme of my blog; once sub-titled as 'nonsensical blathering' with a basic underlying theme of alcohol-fuled hi-jinx (I'm thinking that is spelled wrong and bearing an unnecessary hypen... but I'm okay with that)  and the expected, honest insanity that comes with parenting an almost five-year-old. On that note...

I recently went to the doctor for my splintered ribcage and when I stepped on the scale as part of the standard procedure, I was horrified at the number. It's nothing new for me to cry on a scale, but this time my mouth quite literally fell open and I had to look away. I can't possibly go on further denying or ignoring the slow yet constant weight gain that has occured since I started working in an office in 2005. Within a week, I'd joined Weight Watchers and stocked my desk at work and shelves at home with weight-watching-friendly snacks and dinners. Over the past week, I have cooked (no small feat for someone who DOES NOT work in the kitchen) healthy dinners, cut portions in half, walked on a semi-regular basis, and given up entirely a few of my favorite things. There is no excuse and sacrifice that will be worth blowing my diet. I didn't want to mention anything about my new ways of eating (or not eating) until I'd seen some form of progress.

Last night was my second meeting. Racked with nerves for fear of losing all motivation after a week of hard work, I stepped on the scale. I'd dropped seven pounds.

To some, this is huge. To others, no big deal. For me it was a sign to continue to progress and keep moving. I wanted to jump off the scale and tell the room full of heavy-set strangers that I had done well. I'm rarely proud of myself. For the past two days, I've been glowing with pride. Rounding way, way down, I could potentially be about fifteen pounds lighter by my twenty-third birthday and about thirty pounds lighter by the time Coachella rolls around. (My growing anticipation for that weekend is a whole post in itself, soon to come.) My family and friends are totally supportive of what I'm doing and I've even encouraged a few. Assuming that from here on I can continue to do well, I'll give brief snippets of my progress. Any ideas and encouragement is warmly welcomed.

-Pretty Lush

(PS - Perhaps now I'll be motivated to go in for session two on the dragon on my ribs.