Hiding

Well, I did it.

Did what, you ask?

Posted a link to "Two Blondes Walking" on my Facebook page.

Now the whole world (or, just my 281 friends) know how much I weigh.

I have, like, major blog envy of so many people and their very excellent blogs. I want to be clever. I want to be funny. I want to say profound things. I want to give stuff away. I want to loose this Freakin' Awful Weight!!!!

There's only one problem.

I have NO IDEA WHAT I AM DOING!

So now, I am overweight and have a dumb blog to boot.

So, I could hide that number on the scale and hide my blog. But then, what am I doing.

HIDING!

Just me, myself, and I.

Here I am.....

Still here......

As in the words of Dr.Phil. "How's that working for ya' Em?"

Not so good. Hiding is just...well.....FAIL!

So. I did what I had originally intended. Started a blog. Put it out there for anyone who cares to read, and hopefully some day, join me on my Monday Check-Ins and we can do this together.

No more hiding.

After all, we need each other.

I need you.

And now, I am going to do the other thing I set out to do.

Walk the blonde.

And, if I ever figure out how to do it (did I mention I have no idea what I am doing?) I will post a picture of the blonde looking at me with her "is it time to go yet mom? look.

For now, you'll have to take my word for it.

It's pretty darn cute.

No More Breeding for Me

Recently, I had to take the blonde to the vet for a check up. I suspected she had an ear infection. After waiting in the office for a few minutes, a very friendly veterinarian came in and began to examine the blonde and ask questions.

Vet: What brought you in today?

Me: I think she has a yeast infection in her ears.

Vet: Why do you think that?

Me: Because her ears smell like the Miller Brewing Company.

Vet: Is she having any other symptoms?

Me: Well, last night, she was shaking her head a lot and trying to scratch the inside of her ears.

Vet: When did you first notice the odor?

Me: Oh, about 10 days ago.

Vet: Why did you wait so long to bring her in? (she asks smiling, but I'm starting to sweat)

Me: Well, my son just had surgery, and I have been taking care of him at home and wasn't able to get her here. (I proceed to explain what the surgery was, and happen to mention that my daughter had the same problem, and thus, the same surgery six years ago)

Vet: Oh, so this is like, a genetic problem with your kids?

Me: Yes, it would appear that way.

Vet: Well, we won't be having any more kids, will we?

Me: Um.....(enter crickets)...well....um....no. Uh...we weren't planning to.

It struck me as an odd question, but it didn't occur to me until I had left and started to drive away that...."Y'know? I don't think I liked that comment very much." Kinda weird for your vet, who you had just met not ten minutes before, to comment in a very kind yet opinionated manner about your future reproductive plans. But then, think about it. She's a vet. She is used to looking at her "patients" in terms of breed. Genetic tendencies. Certain breeds are known for hip dysplasia, thyroid issues, cataracts, etc. If two breeding dogs yield pups with anomalies, you stop breeding them. So, I guess she figured I need to stop breeding too. One ear swab examined under the microscope, a 12 month "Well Dog Maintenance Program" to the tune of $39 a month, and an anti-fungal/anti-biotic ear drop for $45 later, we were on our way. Truth be told, I actually really liked the vet. She seemed to genuinely like the blonde, and I like that. As for me breeding anymore, it's highly unlikely. Not in the plans. But not because I produce offspring with genetic anomalies. I like my offspring, anomalies and all. Perhaps if I could be guaranteed a genetic blonde, (neither of mine are) I might reconsider, and then I could rename the blog Three Blondes Walking.

Nah.

Monday 3/28/11 Check IN

Last weeks weight: 270.8

Todays weight: 268

Down 2.8 pounds!!

Average daily calorie intake: 1,530

Exercise encounters: Four 45 minute walks (and four extremely active work days - 12+ hours each)

What I did that worked: Focused on eating less sugar

Goal for next week: Better planning. Make work lunches the night before. Go to the gym at least 2x in addition to walking the blonde.

Monday 3/21/11 Check in

CRAP!!! Crap! Crap! Crap! Sorry...

Today's weight: 270.8

UP 1.8!!!

Average daily calorie intake: Who the heck knows cuz I didn't journal.

How that hurt me: Go back to the top (sigh)

The problem: Stress eating.

Goals this week: Journal. Eat less sugar.

What the Road looks Like

Broken. Bumpy. Smooth. Curvy. Straight. Detoured. Flooded. Hilly. Pot-holed. Uneven. Inclined. Declined. Forked. One-way. Switch-backed. Closed. Open. Under Construction. Congested. Less Traveled. Remote. Urban. Uncharted. Scenic. Unpaved. Gravel. Dirt. Wide. Narrow. Familiar. Unfamiliar. Well-lit. Dark. This is what the road looks like.

The question is, where is it taking you?

Taking back the "Blonde Moment"

The other blonde and I have lots in common. For starters, we're both blonde (well, duuuh...) Also, we both have (at least) two legs. We both like to eat. We both walk a lot. I'm sure I could think of more commonalities, but you get the idea. We also have a lot of differences. I work for a living. She lays around all day. I speak english. She speaks...well....dog. When beyond the confines of the house or back yard, I move about freely. She has to be kept on a leash. I don't know that she is the smartest representative of the canine world. Our vet tells me she is a "genetic disaster." She's had some eye issues, and had to have surgery. Even after surgery, her eyes still have this puddling, sunken-in appearance. And her jaw is crooked, so her tongue is almost always sticking out of her mouth, even when her mouth is closed. It's like her tongue is just about an inch too long. Then, sometimes, she has these moments where her upper lip gets hooked up over her teeth, and she seriously looks so...well....dumb, I guess. Unintelligent. Not smart. Blonde. Blonde? Really? Is blonde supposed to be synonymous with dumb and unintelligent? And what about blonde moments? What are those supposed to be? And if you're blonde, and have a moment of sheer and utter genius, what's that called? A Brunette moment? Furthermore, can you be a brunette and have a blonde moment? Or vise versa? And what if you dye your hair? Do you see what I'm getting at? And what about redheads? What are they known for? Okay, I digress quickly. But let's go back to the blonde "moment" again for a moment, shall we? There are so many things in this life that can cause us to not think or perform up to snuff. Lack of sleep, for one. Controlled substances. Lack of oxygen (although I can't think of many instances when one might suffer from that!) Some of my patients say they have "chemo brain." Many women complain of having "pregnant brain." But blonde moment? I must admit, I am guilty of having used that phrase myself, but if you think about it, what it's really saying is that all blondes exist in this perpetual brainless state, and if you do, say, or think something dumb, then you've momentarily slipped into that state too. Hmmm....I'm not so sure I like that. Do we have a phrase that describes those moments where we, as blondes, do amazing things? Think amazing things? And what about those ordinary moments where no one else would see or recognize the victory, but in your own private life, you've just done something extraordinary? You see, I don't really think it's about getting kudos for being brilliant, but in this crazy world, where many of us feel pretty beat down, I certainly don't need extra ways to insult myself. And certainly not for things I really have to control over, like my genes. So, here's what I think. I'm on this path to be a better me. Loose weight, be healthy, and all that good stuff. It's not easy. I have hundreds of battles everyday. Choices. And often, those choices reveal my current state of mind, my perspective. I say, for each victory I can celebrate, big or small, each good choice, each moment where I turn my perspective and act on truth and goodness, those are gonna be my blonde moments. My A-HA!, Wooo Hooo! One more step in the right direction moments. Oh yeah! I'm taking back the blonde moment! In fact, I think I'm having one right now, and it feels good!

Monday 3/14/2011 check in:

Last weeks weight: 269.8

Today's weight: 269

Total loss from highest weight recorded for me: 34 pounds

Daily Calorie Goal: 1,700 calories or less

Average daily calorie intake: Approximately 1,800 (approximate because I didn't journal 2 of the seven days)

How that hurt me: It took away momentum. It was like cracking the door to a direction I don't want to go.

What I'm going to do about it: Remember how it felt to loose that momentum this week and PUSH through it. Just get it down. Good or bad. I would rather eat crap and write it down than eat perfect and not practice the imperative piece which is to track what I am doing. Future success depends on it.

Standard Deviation

Standard deviation is a widely used measurement of variability or diversity used in statistics and probability theory. It shows how much variation or "dispersion" there is from the "average" (mean, or expected/budgeted value). HUH? Okaaay....right. Did you get any of that? I was thinking a lot today about the term "standard deviation" so I decided to look it up since it's been a....ahem....while since I studied math in college. Not exactly what I had in mind. When I think of the word "standard," I think usual or normal. Deviation? To go against the plan, off of the beaten path, against the grain. I guess the two words are sort of an oxymoron, aren't they? But we deviate in life all the time. Things rarely go the way they were planned. For example, suppose you are in a plane, and you arrive at cruising altitude, say 30,000 feet. Your flying along (Well, the pilot is. You're just along for the ride) eating your minuscule pack of pretzels (60 calories....journaled of course) and all of the sudden: BUMP! Bump, bump...jiggle, jiggle, bump. Turbulence. This continues for a few minutes, the seatbelt light pops on, the captain explains that some unexpected turbulence has occurred and...yadda, yadda, yadda. You know the rest. SO. What does the captain do? He changes altitude, hoping for a smoother ride. He alters the original flight plan. He deviates. No biggie, right? No one gets hurt. And ultimately, you still get where you were going. If you're driving your kids to school and there's road work ahed, you seamlessly alter your route. Deviation. You had planned to wear your "I "heart" Dinos" T-shirt to school (this one's for my daughter) only to discover it's in the washing machine, so you opt for your baby blue Abercrombie instead. Deviation. None of these examples make you break out in a sweat (okay, the airplane one did for me...I HATE flying.) We take these things in stride, and life goes on. You had planned today to eat 1,700 calories of perfectly balanced amounts of fruits, vegetables, protein and complex carbohydrates (after all, the other blonde eats 2 cups of kibble, day in and day out, and seems to be just fine), and along about ten o'clock in the morning, you get a craving that swoops down on you like a starving vulture and BAM! Before you know it, you've crammed three Twix Mini's into your mouth. Deviation. No biggie, right? Um, NOOO! OMG! It's aaaallll over. The diet is OFF! You are a miserable FAILURE! What is the point anyway? You're gonna be FAT for the rest of your life. Weeeell, at least until next Monday when you start your diet all over again (okay *muttering to self* let's see, it's Tuesday...that gives me 5 days to eat whatever I want until the diet starts again...and pizza is sounding really good right now and...and...and....) Um, deviation? Hellooooo!!! What the heck happened? I thought we had decided deviation was okay. Normal. STANDARD! We can deviate a 747 Jumbo Jet off it's flight plan to avoid turbulence, but we can't incorporate a Twix Mini into our diet plan? Well, I propose a complete change to that thinking. A paradigm shift. A....well....a deviation. Let's crunch some numbers. My coach showed me this on day in a session, and I must say, I was skeptical. No actually, I was scared. Scared that by allowing deviation into the equation, I would never be able to succeed. That by veering off course just a tiny bit I had derailed the whole operation. He was trying to ease me out of the "all or nothing - black and white" perspective, and I wasn't buying it. But let's take a practical look. Go back to that moment at ten o'clock in the morning and the "Twix Mini episode." Let's say you'd already consumed 400 calories that morning. Your goal was to stay at or under 1,700 calories. The Twix Mini's set you back by 210 calories. So now your grand total for the day is 610 calories. That leaves you 1,090 calories to work with. We can make that work, right? Right. Okay, I know what your going to say. Most diet deviations involve WAY more than 210 calories. Yea. I get it. But here's the point. Diet blips feel so permanent. So catastrophic. So...well....deviant. But they don't have to. I submit that we start making these deviations STANDARD. Normal. Just...living. Eat, journal, repeat. Satisfy your sweet tooth. Journal, take a breath, and move on. Work out, break a sweat, and laugh in the face of the Twix Mini. You can't succeed if you expect utter perfection. Life is full of deviations. Embrace them. Let's make standard deviations our new standard operating procedure.

Just Dance

Oh, and just in case you were looking for something for something spontaneous to do, I'm gonna make it easy for you. How about letting James Brown give you a little dance lesson:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zdz88MBWomo&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Enjoy

Smell the Roses

While walking the blonde today, I yet again encountered our frustrating daily battle. She insists on pulling the leash "just enough" so as to stay about three paces ahead of me. I am having to constantly tug the line and state the command "no tug." Well, for all the good it does, I might as well be shouting "mind the gap" or "shirt and shoes required," because she just isn't getting it. I know, I know, Cesar Milan (a.k.a. The Dog Whisperer) would be shaking his head, saying I am the one who needs training, the blonde needs re-hab, and I need to learn to be the pack leader. But that topic is for another day...or another blog. Another annoying habit she has is to stop and sniff everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. Every tree, bush, fire hydrant...even the occasional distal end of another passing pooch. When she's decided she's discovered something particularly tempting to her olfactory senses, she does this "crouchy" thing and I literally have to brace my feet and pull as hard as I can to get her moving again. Well today, after having almost de-armed myself in tugging her from yet another sniff-fest, I groaned out loud. "Why the HECK is she doing this??" And the answer folks...wait for it...it's a staggerer. Because she likes to. Then I gazed into her big brown eyes, took note of her floppy tongue hanging out of her happy panting mouth, and knew in that very moment she had taught me something. When was the last time I stopped to smell the...okay, well, I don't share her scent preferences, but when have I recently stopped to smell the...the.....okay, the roses? In other words, the last time I noticed some spark out of the corner of my eye, got a hair brained idea, and followed a path that led to discovery, spontaneity, adventure, and maybe just some plain old fun? Heh...yea. It's been a while. Why? Well, let's see. Too tired. Too fat. Too glum. No money. No desire. And mostly, what's the flippin' point? Blah. Blah. Blah. Boy, I never realized what a complaining downer I am. At least in my head. Is this who I want to be. No! And NO again. Are you listening??? So, what's the point? Follow every wild instinct that comes to mind? Throw caution to the wind and go nuts? Drop all inhibition and live life on the edge? Clearly, that frame of mind has not worked out so well in other ways (case in point: eating spontaneously, reactively, emotionally, and haphazardly leads to no good. Nooooo good.) Hence, the weight problem. Yea, yea. Eventually, I'd like to be able to eat, AND experiment, have fun, be creative and spontaneous, all while staying healthy and making better choices. For now, I am holding the reins a bit tighter, and that seems to be working in this fight on fat. BUT. (There's always a but, right?) I can apply my new canine derived wisdom to other parts of my life. How? Start moving and explore one path of adventure at a time. I don't have to start a revolution or set the pond on fire. Nope. Instead, next time I feel like diving under the covers to check out and avoid the world, I can walk the blonde. And when she stops to sniff, I might just find something to sniff to.

Getting ready to play Barbies

I have this theory about playing Barbies. We really don't. That's the theory. Let me explain. When I was little, I loved to play barbies with my friend who lived down the street. We would drag out this giant bin with all of the Barbie paraphernalia we had....shoes, clothes, bags -- we even had those weird rings which were really nothing more than a plastic mini-rod you could jam into the hole in Barbie's hand. If you were lucky, you had the Dream House or the mini-van or the motor home. We didn't have the fancy stuff, so we made it ourselves. We would spend a whole afternoon erecting the most amazing "make-shift" Barbie house we could come up with, scavenging around to find random random doll-house furniture, small boxes and scraps of fabric - anything really. It didn't have to be real Barbie stuff. Barbie didn't know the difference. Then, once we had everything set up just the way we liked it, inevitably, it was time to clean up. Now, contrast this to the way boys play with their G.I. Joe and Transformer figurines. There's no real time wasted "setting up." As soon as the action figure is in hand, there's flying and crashing and those crazy automatic weapon/motor engine sounds all boys know how to make before you can blink. Imaginary walkie-talkie's come out of hiding, the sound of explosions can be heard, and well, that kid is playing. Yea. Like, really playing. We girls, we just spent all of our time getting ready to play. Our Barbie's never really did much, said much, or went anywhere. We may have changed her clothes ten times, and tried twenty different hair styles (note: Barbie hair melts when applied to a curling iron) but we never really played Barbies. We just got ready to play Barbies. Well, at least that's what I did. Then it occurred to me. I have kinda been doing the same thing. Only now, I am getting ready to do life, but never really doing life. I find myself saying, "I'll have cuter clothes when I'm thin." Or, "I'll get into hiking and walking and exercising when I get some weight off." "I'll be a more spontaneous person and do this, that or the other thing when I have more energy." All of this "getting ready to live" in my mind , but never really living. The truth? It's a TRAP!!! Why not be cute, go exercise, and be spontaneous NOW??? Just sayin'. Well, the other blonde is staring me down with those big brown eyes. Guess it's time to take the blondes walking.

Two Blondes Walking

Two Blondes Walking. Yea, don't get excited. And I didn't say Two Blondes Running. So don't picture some scene from Bay Watch where Pamela Anderson and her twin BFF jog in slow motion into the camera, hair whipping in the wind, then dive into the waves to rescue some smokin' hot yet distressed swimmer with the perfect tan and a six pack. The two blondes here are just a little different. Me. I am a thirty - something wife and mother of two. And I am not as blonde as I used to be, at least without the help of my fabulous friend, confidant and hair dresser. She keeps me blonde, and for now, I like it. The other blonde here is a 74 pound golden retriever. The pooch. The hound. And we walk together. A lot. If she isn't walked, she gets nutty. She needs to loose some weight...maybe 5-6 pounds. And so do I. Slightly more than 5-6 pounds. Which is what led me to start this blog. You see, I have tried just about everything I know short of surgery to get this weight thing under control, and each attempt has been a failure. I've been a failure. Or so it seems. Just yesterday, while in my amazing life-nutrition coaches office, I tipped the scale at 269 pounds. YIKES! Not the heaviest I have ever been...nuh-uh! But oh good grief, what an awful number to be. So the thought came to me recently. I am blonde. So is my dog. We both need to loose weight. We both walk. Nothing has been super successful so far, so why not try an experiment? Start a blog about walking the blonde. Both of us. Maybe it will do the world some good. Or maybe it will just do me some good. The ground rules. Blatant honesty about my weight progress. No hiding. Beyond that, who knows.