Good Bouncy Hair

Thursday, July 30, 2009

I am officially moved in to my new homestead (aka: a room in my Aunt and Uncle's house) and tomorrow I will be officially moved out of my apartment. I left it on Wednesday all empty and scrubbed clean, but tomorrow I am going to take care of the moving-out-office-buisness.

It will be strange living with people again, especially in a house. After moving from Minnesota to Texas for school in 2005, I lived in the dorms for a year, than an apartment with roommates for two years, and then in my lovely little loft apartment all by my happy lonesome (plus boyfriend's happy lonesome on weekends) for one year. And now here I am. They offered the free rent, which means I should finally be able to finish school this year. I'll take it.

Why am I not living with boyfriend? His family is Catholic. It would so not be worth fighting with his parents. And his grandma. That woman could kill someone with sheer willpower if she wanted to. Good thing she tends to use her powers for good, and minor annoyance.

The scale has started creeping down again at it's slow-but-usually-sure pace, which is good. And my Aunt who is visiting this weekend commented on how great I look and immediately asked me how much weight I have lost (which is about 10 pounds after my yearish of maintenanceish time. About 30 total.) So anyway- she noticed, and that is fabulous.

And it was a good hair day. Very bouncy. Which is really all that matters, hence the title.


The Completed Post

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

I have not been posting. Why? I don't know. Honestly. I have started about four different posts over the past week, but none of them make it to the end. I have decided that tonight I will click that daunting "publish post" button if it kills me. And if it does indeed kill me, my non-posting streak will be resumed indefinitley.

So I think my back is finally recovering from my nearly-fatal fall (although my bum remains sore.) I am taking only one pain killer a day for the back pain, which is a huge improvement, and have started some light (very light) exercise. Boyfriend would have you believe that I hindered my back's recovery time, but I am moving. I have to lift boxes.. and mattresses.. and tables.. and sofas. Maybe I am a little stubborn. Probably any other week I would have been bitching about moving the heavy furniture, but right now I am just freaking determined to prove that I can. Seriously, I need therapy.

And what did you miss in the exciting world of my weight loss last week? Not much. I was in the midst of that oh-so-special time of the month when a lady's body bloats up and hangs onto every molecule of water that it possibly can. I managed not to gain, but I did not lose anything. All week. I probably should have tucked the scale away for the week, but I have been a once-a-week-only-weigher for so long that I really don't know what my lady-time pattern is. I was curious, is all. I did it for science, really. Probably I should get some kind of award. So anyway, I managed to maintain all week, and then shoot up one pound a few days after, and then drop back down. So now I am sitting at the lovely number of... 194. I will totally take that. These days I am a weight-loss-machine. Hopefully I don't break, I don't think they manufacture my parts anymore.

It has been a long day (and week) and I am tired. I am sitting on my bed in my work clothes, with my black turtle-neck pulled up to my nose and my gray slacks already unbuttoned. I think it is time for pajamas, tea, and bed.


Fat Latte

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Morning all. Yesterday was one of those terrible horrible no good very bad days. I woke up super sore and moody. I felt gross and did not lose any weight (stupid lady time.) I had no drive to do anything. The coffee b*tch messed up my latte. And then my car wouldn't start after work and is now still sitting outside of the mall across town.

I am going to expand on the coffee b*tch. I love skinny lattes (fat free/sugar free.) Love them. I tend to stop into the coffee shop on a bad day and cheer myself up with 90 calories worth of latte-deliciousness. However, I have this irrational fear that the baristas are going to mess up and use full fat milk and the regular syrup. Boyfriend makes fun of me mercilessly for this. I am constantly double-checking when I order that they heard me say "skinny" and that they do in fact know what that means. But yesterday I was attempting to rise above my fear, and I did not double check at the register. But my trust in this coffee lady started to slide as I waited for my drink, and as she handed it to me she said, "Tall Caramel Latte." My heart skipped a beat and I said, "That is fat free/sugar free, right?" Without skipping a beat she said "No, I did not hear you say that. I am glad you asked." And she started fixing another one. It would have been nice, but she said it in an annoying fake-professional voice.

I waited for my new latte and left the coffee shop late for work and with my irrational fear validated.


Water Mug

Monday, July 20, 2009

I am still without coffee. Ridiculous, no? And I really like to save my tea for the evening. So this morning it was ice water out of my giant coffee mug. Was it the next best thing? No. But, I can not remember the last time I met my water-intake-goal for the day- so perhaps not a bad idea.

In other news: I am trying to figure out how to exercise with my stair-tumbling-induced-injury. My tailbone is bruised (possibly sprained,) and I am having constant pain in my lower back. I have been trying to walk to campus whenever possible, but I am basically not burning any extra calories. I really want to be doing kickboxing (my current favorite) but that is out of the question. And I honestly can not figure out any cardio workout that does not result in serious pain. Any suggestions?

Readings for my literary criticism class are calling me, and I better answer (reluctantly.) I hope you had a happy day filled with coffee and a great cardio burn.


Radio Detox

Sunday, July 19, 2009

In case I have never mentioned, I am totally hooked on Jillian Michaels' radio show. Two hours every sunday. Gibber gabber about nutrition and fitness and everything I am obsessed with. The show is on a station out of LA, so I always catch streaming of it sometime during the week. I just plug my laptop into the handy little surround sound box while I cook and clean and, well, what else can I say except I love it? My guilty pleasure that I refuse to feel guilty about. My non-guilty pleasure, if you will.

So this morning I was finishing my stint as a Beagle-sitter and getting beautified for a friend's birthday party and I thought... Hey.. Jillian is about to start chit chatting live. I can stream it live! I set up the laptop and yammered on and on to Boyfriend about how amazing the show is and how giddy I was to listen to it live.

Longish story shorter- I am cursed. I loved it too much. I smothered it with my love and it died. As I brushed my mascara on I listened to a man say that Jillian had too much on her plate and is no longer with the radio station. And that was that. He just went on reading the news like he had not just sucked a piece of joy from my life.

And then, of course, I proceeded to take my anger out on Mister Boyfriend (I have major PMS, mind you.) But I got all freaked out about not having this source of information, this wonderful escape anymore. It was not kind. I was tearing up and telling him how he did not understand- throwing myself a giant pity party about a stupid radio show and just waaaaaiting for him to say anything that I could jump on him for.

For the record, I did come to my senses and apologize. But, in all honesty, I am sad. Way bummed. And just wishing and hoping that they leave the archived episodes online for a while so I can have some detox action.

I need therapy.


About Nothing

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I live a charmed life, friends. I was scheduled to work all weekend, but magically I have it off. Why I have it off is an incredibly uninteresting story, so I am going to stick with magic (said in an emphatic whisper.) Who is good at magic? Dumbledore. Probably it was Dumbledore's doing. So thanks, Albus. Boyfriend and I are having a lovely lazy weekend.

So what am I doing with this lovely lazy weekend? Basically... Nothing. I am dog sitting for my Aunt and Uncle's Beagle (which happens to be one of my favorite things to do) and Mister Boyfriend and I are having fun making fruit smooties and other equally fun/cute things.

We went out to lunch today at the cafe attached to one of our favorite organic/health food stores. Yummy sandwiches and soups. And while we were eating Boyfriend had a minor freakout because he thinks he is not being healthy enough... Poor thing. Yes, the man will shovel in the cookies sometimes, but he is normal weight- totally healthy- and has started paying attention to his portion sizes, and is trying to eat cleaner foods. But he was all worried because he has not gone totally organic yet. I have not even gone totally organic yet! I kind of giggled at him, but also got all life-coachy on his ass and made him list all of the healthy changes he has been making in his diet. Poor boy wants to be "perfect" in a day.

So what did I learn today? When you do nothing, you really have nothing to write about. Although, you will most likely be writing in a happy mood. And I re-learned (by calming down the man) how important it is to focus on long-term goals, and where you're headed... But don't expect to change everything at once. Baby steps. (If you have not seen What About Bob, I suggest you rent it and have a chuckle.)


Sitting On My Sore Bum.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

My bum bone is not getting better. It hurts like a mofo. All of the time. I doubt there is a good time to bruise your tailbone but it really sucks when you have the following things going on in your life:

  • School. Sitting in hard chairs 4 straight hours a day.
  • Work. Standing on hard floor in bad shoes or sitting on a hard stool.
  • Moving. Seriously, how did I earn the bad karma that is making me constantly bend and twist and squat and lift boxes while I feel like my ass is betraying my body.
  • Work outs. What work outs? Exactly. Besides my crazy rebellious walk the day after the great stair tumble, I have not done any exercise this week. At least I am losing, but I really want to pick it up a little bit. I probably only want to because I can't.
I know I am complaining, but I am crabby. Okay, really I'm not. Boyfriend made it too hard to be crabby tonight. He picked me up after class this afternoon, and had me cuddle up in his recliner chair in a non-bum-hurting position while he cooked me dinner, let me take a nap, and then put in Sweeny Todd. He also wrote me two sweet letters tonight. The first to read right away, and the second sealed, only to be read at home alone. Such a lovely man.

So I am not grumpy, even though I want to be. Really I am at home feeling excited about a day off tomorrow and determined to really start moving some of my stuff. I am also stoked about my steady steady steady weightloss since I had my revelation 25 days ago. This morning I weighed in at 196.2 (yay). I am not allowing myself to be scared of the 190s. I have never in all these years of struggle been able to fight my way totally through the 190s. But it is not a struggle this time. Not a fight. I feel like I am skating right through them, and am excited about being almost halfway through these particularly tricky pounds.

Although, it would be nice if I was speed skating. Meh, I will settle for wobbly-kneed, ankle-turned gliding.



Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Hello from an over-heated Minnesotan stuck in Texas. It is going to be over 105 again today, which is just wrong. The heat index temps recently have been right about 110 or higher. Suck. I am crazy sore after my not-so-acrobatic tumble down the stairs yesterday, and am feeling a little paranoid about not exercising (which is interesting because I have not been really exercising recently.) It is amazing how not being able to do something makes you want to so much! Last night I bent into all sorts of painful positions and scrubbed down my bathroom and kitchen. Stupid considering the events of the morning? Yes. Oh well. And today all I can think about is logging 10,000 steps on my pedometer. I really want to walk from my apartment to my classes today (usually I walk some and bus the rest because of heat and time.) We will see how that pans out.

In other news I promised some details on why it is ridiculously hard to stay on track when visiting Boyfriend's parents. I think I shall list it up, yo.

  • There are always at least five candy jars and one cookie jar in the living room and the kitchen (more around the holidays.)
  • There is usually another box of cookies sitting on the kitchen counter (Boyfriend's dad literally eats an entire package of cookies everyday.)
  • Fridge and pantry are full of full-fat, full-evil, full-everything snacks and food (chocolate, chips, more cookies, macaroni and cheese, ice cream, more cookies, and soooo much more.)
  • As a family they eat out for major meals all weekend, every weekend. This used to be a disaster for me. Every time we visited I would be eating fried foods and high high calorie meals because I could not resist them at a restaurants. But now I am able to resist french fries and other junk and make great choices as the restaurants (probably better then I would be able to at their house!)
  • Loving Boyfriend's loving Mom and Dad are always packing bags of food for us to take back. Including, of course, many soft ooey gooey chocolaty delicious cookies.
Boyfriend's mom does not eat a lot. She has always been a short small lady. Granted, she does not choose the healthiest way to prepare and order food- but she eats quite small portions and does not have any sort of weight issue.

Boyfriend's dad only eats one meal a day- dinner. He is moving all day long, working on projects outside, then breaks for dinner. Then at some point in the evening he comes inside, chills in his recliner and enjoys an entire package of cookies. He also strolls out of the bedroom at night and eats a few more cookies in the kitchen. He also, has no weight issue (he is too skinny if anything.)

And Boyfriend himself is a short little cutie (think James McAvoy) who can eat absolutely anything he wants, and not have any problems. But, lucky for me, he has gotten really excited in health and nutrition. Now he runs or walks every morning and is focusing on switching to more pure foods, and going organic whenever possible.

And that concludes this installment of the skinny-without-trying family. This is a really long entry. You should get a trophy for making it to the end. Although, you probably want a cookie after this one. Ask boyfriend if he will share.


The Fall

Monday, July 13, 2009

I am so bad at being a girl. I have been neglecting my feet a little recently, which is breaking so many girl-laws during sandal season. Honestly, Boyfriend even offered to give me a foot-massage the other day and I refused because of the state of my feet! Ridiculous. So after a serious of days filled with silly negative-feet-thoughts, I decided simply to fix them. I attempted to paint my toenails last night with a pretty pale pink that would probably be called something like dusty rose (if it was meant for an old lady) or pretty in pink (if meant for a younger lady.) As usual, my toenail painting attempts failed miserably. I did not even get one foot half-done before realizing how crap it was and quickly washing it all off. After abandoning the pink I slathered my feet in special vanilla foot lotion, and stuck them into the fuzzy gel-lined booties that Boyfriend gave me for my birthday.

So where am I going with this? Well, I left them on all night for some intensive healing. This morning I was headed down the stairs wearing only my boodies and some underoos and disaster struck. My feet were all slick inside the booties from the lotion and sweat and moisterizing action, and this slickness skidded my feet forward across the gel while the bootie stayed put on the step as my brain had intended.

I fell. I fell hard. I fell really hard. Straight down onto my tailbone on the hard step. The pain shot up from there straight through my back. It felt like my spine was being played like an accordian. I sat there making loud moaning noises (sounding much like a cow) because my lungs could not suck in enough air to scream. It took me about 10 minutes to scoot down the final few steps and get myself laying flat on the ground.

I hurt everywhere from my bum to my neck, and am not entirley sure how I am going to make it through a full school/work day. Hard chairs for 4 hours followed by standing only on a hard surface for 5 hours. Fantastic.

So that's my story, kids. I was going to write about my food-battles this weekend visiting Boyfriend's family. There are some interesting internal screaming matches followed by much triumph. And much anger about giant soft cookies. And, honestly, the amount of junk food and their house is worthy description, even a day later than intended. So (barring any more accidents/injuries) consider that a preview for tomorrow.

Have happy days out there! Eat well and be well!


I Miss Bernie!

Friday, July 10, 2009

I am moving in a couple of weeks (to live rent-free, mind you) and I already gave Boyfriend our coffee-grinder, who we affectionatly call Bernie. So Bernie is gone, and I didn't think to grind a whole barrel-ful of beans before I sent him packing. Dumb? Yes. Now I have no coffee. None. I dug through all of my cabinents, searching longingly for even the crappiest of Folgers. Nothing. I am completly without coffee. This is just not acceptable.

Boyfriend is an early riser, and I have seriously considered calling him and demanding a delivery of some fresh ground beans, but for some reason I am hesitating. Why? I really don't know. I guess I will have tea, which is usually my nighttime hot-drink of choice. Mayhaps I am growing...

Not growing width-wise, I'll have you know. This is my 19th day of being totally on track food-wise! Honestly, it is so different this time around. I am tracking calories in my pretty little handmade (by mom) book, but it is so different than when I did Weight Watchers, or any other points/numbers based tracking system. I feel like I am the one in control this time around. I am not attaching myself to anyone's plan, I am just being accountable to myself. I am thinking about eating clean foods, and am doing well on my switchover to organic everything.

I am going to be a skinny little biznatch soon. How soon? I really don't care. As long as I make good choices everyday, and I feel good, I can be patient. The weight can fall off at it's own pace.


Posessed Air Popper

Thursday, July 9, 2009

My air popper is posessed. Seriously. It has always been posessed, but last night was worse than ever. There were unpopped kernels flying out everywhere, and a few times the popcorn landed in the bowl with such force that it sent a wave of popcorn flying into the air- like throwing a stone into the water. Except it was popcorn. In my kitchen. Where I have to clean it up. I actually let out a not-so-quiet-scream at one point. It was madness, I'm telling you! But I fought my way through the wall of evil flying popcorn and managed to shut off that machine... Just as it expelled the last popped kernal.

Honestly now, what is that about? Every time. Every single time! My mom and I used an air popper sometimes when I was in high school, and I never remember it being such a disaster. I refuse to give up the popcorn, one of my favorite snacks, so I think next time I will be prepared. Helmet (bowl) on my head and shield (pot lid) in my hand. Ready for battle.

So that's my tale. Hopefully I'm not alone in the battle against the air poppers.

In other news... I have been attempting to listen to a 30 minute meditation thing twice a day for about a week now and I have not managed to get through without falling asleep! I suppose that shows that it is relaxing me, which is good. But I want to get the most out of it. And of course I want to make sure it's not hypnotizing me for some secret organization. Any tips?


Teaxas Roadhouse Rant

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

I am so mad at Texas Roadhouse. I am mad at restaurants in general, but Texas Roadhouse is taking the brunt of it today. So here's the story (all about how my life got flip-turned upsidown...) I am sick of being undermined by restaurants. In my recent history (this spring) I have only slipped up when I have been pushed out of my normal routine. I have only been able to manage restaurants when I pick them and am able to carefully review their nutrition information before I leave the house and get there all prepared.

So last night I faced my greatest fear: Dinner at a restaurant that I did not pick. Shudders. It was for my Aunt's birthday, a very worthy cause, but why Texas Roadhouse? Where there are peanuts and buttery rolls on the table, and mashed potatoes screaming out to me from the menu. "Maaaaaanda. Have you forgotten us? We only want to make sure you maintain a decent amount of lumpiness on your bum and thighs. We are only thinking of you!"

Okay, in all honesty, I was basically a superhero. I got there, told Boyfriend that I was not having any rolls or peanuts and he gave me an encouraging nod. I ate a house salad minus the dressing, a cup of delicious green beans, and oven roasted chicken minus the skin. It was finger-lickin' tasty, and I was able to enjoy time with my family without thinking about the food. The potatoes really did not call out to me at all. The tempting bread and peanuts did not distract me from conversation. And I did not feel any food envy. I was satisfied.

So yeah yeah, I am finally making strides in correcting my twisted relationship with food. And yeah yeah, these successes are mysterious and amazing. But what I am most fixated on is my anger toward's the restaurant. I am proud that I was able to make amazing choices (and see a drop in the scale today) using only my own common sense, but why do they have to make it so difficult. Go ahead, read their statement and just try not to get in a tizzy. Go here, and click on Nutritional Information from the menu:

Did you read it? Did you manage not to make annoyed-huffy sounds while you did? Do you know how sick I am of restaurants being so selfish? Go ahead, have your 1500 calorie meals, but just tell me! Just share your most accurate informaiton so your customers are able to eat with you regardless of their health concerns and plans.

Okay, rant over. I am patting myself on the back for excellent choices the resulted in a delicious and nutricious meal. And I am waiting for the day when I can always know what exactly I am putting into my mouth.

Now I am going to focus on the fact tht it was so easy... My relationship with food has been changing so much. More on that later.


Story of The Little Girl

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

My story is not a sob story, although it would be a big fluffy lie if I told you I have not done a significant amount of sobbing about my pudge over the years.

Once upon a time there was a cute little girl. All smiles, wispy blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Her biggest concern was being messy (she usually failed to notice the holes in the knees of her tiny windpants, the stans on her tee-shirts and the stickyness of her hands.) One day a snippy little boy called the little six-year-old girl fat, and she was never the same. She became paranoid about what people thought of her. She assumed every whisper and giggle was about her floppy behind. She took every precieved comment to heart, and learned how to bury her emotions under food. She constantly compared herself to her friends, sure she did not measure up. And she started putting on weight. It came on like the speed of a train- slowly at first, chugging along through the years, gaining speed through junior high and high school, and hitting a break-neck pace in college.

She tried to hide behind her humor and her giant lady melons. And she constantly tried to fix herself. During her nightly prayers she would beg and plead, bargining with God for a free pass to skinny. She made attempts at change, but success was marginal and short-lived. There were shakes, bars, fad diets, attempted vegetarinaism, obscene amounts of water, low-carb, low fat, and half-attempts at starvation. She tried to run, rollerblade, bicycle, swim. She locked her bedroom door and danced around to old Richard Simmon's records. Mostly she would lay in her bed at night and imagine the blade of a sharp knife making several clean cuts that would elimiate all of her excess lard.

Sometimes 5 pounds would go, and sometimes 20 pounds would go. But it would always find a way back. At age 20, the little girl bought a scale and weighed herself for the first time in two years. She peered over her stretch-marked stomach and stared at the digital display accusing her of carrying 227 pounds. She felt a desperate panic followed by a surge of determination. She signed up for Weight Watchers Online, and managed to lose about 40 pounds over the course of 12 months. Then she met a boy and spent the next year in a cycle of gaining and losing. The little girl found herself back at 210 pounds.

She knew the year had not been a waste. She had fallen in love, and learned to let herself be loved. Her state of mind had started changing, and something miraculous happened. She started to live.

If you have not yet figured out that I, The Fluffy Girl, am that little girl.. well, then I am sorry for the trickery. But really, it wasn't that clever. Get with it, mister.

There are a lot more stories within my story. Funny stories, and sad stories. Most likley many pathetic stories wrapped up in cleverness. But don't get your panties in a bind, I will tell you everything. Eventually. 22 years of frutrating flub-fighting takes a while to detail. My fat and I have a long lumpy history. But we are negotiating the terms of a permanent seperation.

Today, at this very moment (actually several moments ago before breakfast) I weighed in on that same scale at 199.2 pounds. I am not letting anyone else boss me around in my weight-loss, I finally figured out that I like to be in charge of myself. I constatnly devour new helpful nutrition information, and would love to spew some of it out at you. And I also need a place to spew my sucess, and set-backs. My new stories and old stories.

Two years ago, five years ago, ten years ago- this blog would have been full of teary entries typed with fingers greasy from fast-food french fries. But it is a lot more interesting this time around.


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