My brother came in town Friday for my girl's birthday. I took a break from posting, but not really on purpose. I stayed up way late. I ate pretty healthy, other than the carrot cake we all ate with our hands, and the Italian ice cream we had one night. I played the WiiFit, and laughed until I cried at my brother's skinny ass trying to hula hoop. I drank mimosas and ate at odd times of day. If I didn't lose any weight this week, I have a feeling I know why!
Boot camp frustration:
Week two of boot camp has come and gone. Last week I busted my ass to eat well, and really enjoyed it. I did eat a greasy burger and greasier fries on my daughter's birthday, but damn it, that's what she wanted, and I caved. And my belly ached after I ate it. Ick.
Boot camp itself was killer. The scattered trainer has some high expectations, which I suppose is good, but I'm in a world of pain in certain areas of my body! She had us doing crazy things outside...I can't even explain or demonstrate, but my body is screaming. Each day, I can barely hike my ass up into my Jeep (if I just say 'car', my girl corrects me: "Mommy, it's a JEEP, not a car!!!" Get it straight!), and I guzzle a 1.5 liter of water during the hour-long class. I felt my legs give out several times on Friday, and I really did push my body to exhaustion.
That being said, my clothes still fit the same. Or should I say?- don't fit the same. It's pretty bad when you ask your girl on her birthday, 'Baby, what do you want to do?' and her reply is this:
'Mommy, I want to go buy you a shirt and shorts that fit you, okay? Then you feel better, okay?'
HOW SAD IS THAT??? She has seen/heard me pitching a fit in my closet, trying to find something that fits somewhat comfortably and looks somewhat decent.
I have kept up my business with the WiiFit, but I refuse to see what it says I weigh. I just cannot bear the thought of busting my ass in boot camp for 4 weeks and ending up in the same damn position I was in 4 weeks ago.
On a brighter note, I do feel better. I have more energy. I feel stronger in my core, in my stomach, and I can feel all the muscles pulsing and flexing when I move now. This morning, I saw the definition in my thighs and calves. LOVELY if I do say so myself!!!
My turn has come to write a chapter for the online book titled Foodie. Check it out! The story is great so far, and the idea of different people writing each chapter is brilliant!
However, I was not saying any of this when I got the email saying it was my turn, and I had up to 2 weeks. I was almost in tears, panicking over something I had not yet written. I wrote the first couple of lines right away, and then left it sitting there on my computer screen for almost two weeks. Every time I opened my laptop, there it was, little cursor blinking, waiting for me to continue. And.I.just.couldn't.
Jeez, talk about getting stage fright, or procrastinating, or whatever. So, I finally finished it, the night before the deadline. Yet I still haven't sent it off to the editor, because....well, I don't know! I will send it tomorrow morning, after I sleep on my 1,036 words, and then, well, I guess you all can critique me, throw rotten salmonella-ridden tomatoes at me, or sing my praises. Whatev. At least it's done and over with!
And I would like to add, in run-on sentence form:
I have not won a single PiF contest yet, and hello??? I am leaving comments NON-STOP, and I paid an arm and a leg to mail off the package to my PiF contest winner in frickin' London, and seriously, why the hell is it so expensive to ship something over the damn Atlantic Ocean, and I am still so very jealous of all of you that went to BlogHer, I totally feel like I'm 'outside the circle' again, like I did in high school (how lame is THAT???), and Google Reader can bite my ass because it says I have 282 damn posts to read, and jeez-don't any of you do anything besides write??? While I'm here trying to write 1,000 damn words, with nothing to type, and I bounced my flabby ass off at my girl's birthday party, racing my brother and sister through the obstacle courses, dragging my girl up a 20 foot blow-up ladder only to fly down the slide at eardrum-shattering speed (with the speed burn on my ass to prove it!) and HOLY HELL, I am so old! I was panting and gasping and laughing and sweating, and my girl never once seemed to mind that her mom was being a kid with everyone else instead of doing the 'mom thing' and standing around watching all the kids play.