tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6814364970963013502024-02-19T00:00:30.474-07:00The Girl Who Cried SkinnyWhen I was laid off on March 24, 2010, I thought I'd start a weight loss blog. I did, and called it "I was overweight when I was laid off". Unfortunately, I didn't lose weight and the title only sounded like a stand-up comic routine. Years later, I had multiple free-lance jobs and then another real job, and I got tired of saying I was going to lose weight. Now I'm doing something about it, because I don't want to just be the girl who CRIED skinny, but be the girl who is healthy.Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-74758799697756779582017-10-25T09:23:00.000-06:002017-10-25T19:30:30.469-06:00It's been a while. A long while. To catch you up, I broke my leg on the descent from a 14er in June. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Lwsg0Y59I2N2biY_iRL2EZxI5rLgWFPgZ_tg-76jqeJgyRhWWck0-HN7e6W9E3rmJOR9TLhGou6l-LnaMSXvQmgd9Yx_LbjuomcosoSrRiK97Kg2-6Altxgy3V6XjaKQvD_9pFAqQUbq/s1600/broken.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Lwsg0Y59I2N2biY_iRL2EZxI5rLgWFPgZ_tg-76jqeJgyRhWWck0-HN7e6W9E3rmJOR9TLhGou6l-LnaMSXvQmgd9Yx_LbjuomcosoSrRiK97Kg2-6Altxgy3V6XjaKQvD_9pFAqQUbq/s320/broken.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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It was a hard summer, but I've been cleared to walk again for exercise, so I'm back at it. Just a couple miles each day with the neighbor, but at least I'm moving again! I was so paranoid about gaining weight while I had the cast on that I was really careful about what I ate, and ended up down 10 lbs when the cast came off ... which I promptly gained right back.<br />
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All of that to say that I am back in the saddle, or on the sidewalk (or insert appropriate metaphor here), and back to logging on Loseit. They've added cute and creative notifications to the app that help too!<br />
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Yesterday I re-read my blog from start to finish. For the motivation alone, I'm glad I blogged. And so I begin again. Or resume. Or continue. Nothing deep here, other than I'm back at it. Anyone else?<br />
<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-67573419074459635052016-08-13T14:02:00.002-06:002016-08-13T14:02:30.510-06:00Once more unto the breach!I don't know why you'd be surprised that The Girl Who Cried Skinny might also be a slacker blogger. Seriously, people! Pay attention :)<br />
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All that to say, I did hit "80 down" at the tail end of October 2013, and I DID walk a "back country" half marathon! NBD.<br />
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And then I hit 90 lbs. down for about a minute and I travelled a ton for work and a lot of time passed and I'm still down 50 but also I'm back above 190.<br />
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So yeah, there's that.<br />
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But I haven't given up and I'm back to logging and if you're wondering about what happened, I'm no scientist, but I think it boils down to this:<br />
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When I lost the majority of my weight, I walked almost every day of the week and I rarely had alcohol. For the last year or so, I've barely walked 2x a week and have alcohol almost every day.</blockquote>
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You do the math :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKD76KGtjSJg5i-bVOi2ltHxYfYePNkBV1_XKsO4IicYyG6A5PwDXN3LnoLmnNuK7vg-6bPIxNBuWmbUgu1k9CgLXGzJF3FzAwX4MJhACEDJivsF-y-ocbIYRaAPIxEHIoAEaljCDn4eC/s1600/25+then+and+now.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKD76KGtjSJg5i-bVOi2ltHxYfYePNkBV1_XKsO4IicYyG6A5PwDXN3LnoLmnNuK7vg-6bPIxNBuWmbUgu1k9CgLXGzJF3FzAwX4MJhACEDJivsF-y-ocbIYRaAPIxEHIoAEaljCDn4eC/s320/25+then+and+now.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 years then and now</td></tr>
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And we celebrated our 25th anniversary. Now you're caught up!Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-14757883008638757972013-11-07T22:17:00.000-07:002013-11-07T22:17:14.517-07:00This is not how anyone would describe me: super thin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifo88Ac4tjzs6NPctErvva1zXMo7ku4Nv9sDos91LnPzhpbynQjH7dGJkEmBqMIZuXurl3kqJmZfokULhJCj3kJ6e5H2y5lVzZUvZNpA0vuh6MRh3bsZt1s1tZRyvc8PIKgAixTl7eQ3Gd/s1600/baby+holding.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifo88Ac4tjzs6NPctErvva1zXMo7ku4Nv9sDos91LnPzhpbynQjH7dGJkEmBqMIZuXurl3kqJmZfokULhJCj3kJ6e5H2y5lVzZUvZNpA0vuh6MRh3bsZt1s1tZRyvc8PIKgAixTl7eQ3Gd/s320/baby+holding.JPG" width="240" /></a>Seriously. No one would describe me this way.<br />
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<strike>I recently took</strike> A few months ago, I took food to a friend with a new baby.<br />
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And this is what was posted on Instagram ...<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DGDnNgYzSJ-CiUsJa6vpPKl3n88TLeRKBqMB3saDFBv4Y_fY2Rt7QR6LEiUQEjjnsu7VrZqpHj1f-bAG1KnIQBf9WPvitvWHOv4m8awEu7w0veqF22LTirVshGYsi3w0tPRYp_BlQTR1/s1600/baby+holding+comments.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DGDnNgYzSJ-CiUsJa6vpPKl3n88TLeRKBqMB3saDFBv4Y_fY2Rt7QR6LEiUQEjjnsu7VrZqpHj1f-bAG1KnIQBf9WPvitvWHOv4m8awEu7w0veqF22LTirVshGYsi3w0tPRYp_BlQTR1/s320/baby+holding+comments.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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By the way, holding freshly baked baby is one of the Great Joys in Life.Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-26321542834575081402013-08-09T11:39:00.001-06:002013-08-09T11:39:47.534-06:00It's football season again!And so I thought I'd put on this shirt one more time. Let's discuss. <br />
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My grandmother sent me birthday money one year, and I took it straight to the Bronco store at the stadium. I went with two friends, and was quickly embarrassed at how big I was. Actually, let me clarify that. I wasn't embarrassed at how big I was, as I'd been that way pretty much as long as they'd known me. I was embarrassed by how few shirts were even close to fitting me. How twisted is that? I'd been shopping at Lane Bryant for so long, I really wasn't used to a
store that fit average-sized people. This was one of the few that came
in not only XXL, but 3XL and 4XL. I really should have gotten the 4XL,
but I was so ashamed of how big 3XL sounded that I couldn't bring
myself to buy one size bigger in front of these little friends. I
wanted a pic to send to GM in my thank you note to her, which is
probably the only reason I even have a pic of that day. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyk5VoYCRBqtBGb0qpDB1qZQaq3NPb18zNAE-sQu6qJ0rnXm6cvJ-wsdHlZ3PPtlv1TFNC0I1npEPv_N-d4aZ7hOaW2m26IYU5OucKfUSQyqkhsWnj0MnBuRuVvtkymV44kPPW6Cc_1aS/s1600/fat+football+girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyk5VoYCRBqtBGb0qpDB1qZQaq3NPb18zNAE-sQu6qJ0rnXm6cvJ-wsdHlZ3PPtlv1TFNC0I1npEPv_N-d4aZ7hOaW2m26IYU5OucKfUSQyqkhsWnj0MnBuRuVvtkymV44kPPW6Cc_1aS/s320/fat+football+girl.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQ11yFGHrzzOJPtIo34akKdcNeiVTbbCeGcEXRjnCddFq-TL1FJDCENOVdQDL4JNKsgYmBSF3gcL9tnQGWZmlzLEk5ojrECEsik6ujOzQ50iX2bo-keWe4TxtKbuewh0ELg0p8_Gfnc0k/s1600/2012+football+girl+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQ11yFGHrzzOJPtIo34akKdcNeiVTbbCeGcEXRjnCddFq-TL1FJDCENOVdQDL4JNKsgYmBSF3gcL9tnQGWZmlzLEk5ojrECEsik6ujOzQ50iX2bo-keWe4TxtKbuewh0ELg0p8_Gfnc0k/s320/2012+football+girl+2.JPG" width="240" /></a> In this pic, the shirt hasn't been washed so is the biggest it will ever be. It was cold in the mountains that weekend, so I was forced to wear an unplanned long-sleeve shirt with it, making it even tighter. I am sucking in my gut like it was my job and my hands on my hips? They're pulling the shirt forward, tight in the back, and trying to make it looser around my gut. It was not a good day. After that, I only washed it in cold and never dried it, but there were a few years in there where I didn't wear it at all.<br />
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This pic is from 2012's season opener. See how happy I look that the shirt is hanging loosely on me? Smug, ain't I?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsA9dQKJc1qIRGJAuR5mkgvZlkwNO1JmJIF979GkUTS5wjMlruYb_kC83q7NlgEm9sX7Ni-1qb3uJNRscw4q9J7kExxXQ2CXjygLI_w9DdXfoc6GJSBdc0Ci31cApUE20FFVM-sjXjSCR/s1600/2013+football+girl+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsA9dQKJc1qIRGJAuR5mkgvZlkwNO1JmJIF979GkUTS5wjMlruYb_kC83q7NlgEm9sX7Ni-1qb3uJNRscw4q9J7kExxXQ2CXjygLI_w9DdXfoc6GJSBdc0Ci31cApUE20FFVM-sjXjSCR/s320/2013+football+girl+1.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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And this is from the 2013 (pre-)season opener last night. I've been drying the shirt to shrink it, but it's really too big to wear any more. When I asked The Hubs to take the pic, he asked what I wanted to highlight. "Uh ... how much smaller I am?" So then he played photoshoot stylist and actually used a chip clip on the back of the shirt (just call me Jessica Simpson -- anyone remember that?). I'm not ashamed to admit that that made me really happy and I giggled.<br />
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And this is definitely the last season I'm wearing this shirt. Which is kind of sad, because I really like it now :)<br />
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Someone on SparkPeople asked me recently, "isn't it motivating to look at pics that show your progress?" And I had to answer with a resounding, "YES!" Seriously, I thought I was SO SMALL last year just by virtue of seeing progress! Progress is good. Any progress. Less heavy breathing, less knee or back pain, being able to walk further or faster or whatever. Progress is progress, yo!Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-7249555373894142532013-08-01T15:23:00.000-06:002013-08-01T15:23:24.146-06:00A cough drop is a weird taste in the summerHave you ever had a summer cold? I'm sure I have, but I really don't remember anything like this past week. I learned salad tastes terrible when you have a cold (seriously, where is my won ton soup?), and cough drops taste weird when you're wearing shorts. And you still want to be totally covered up at night, so then you sweat. And don't get me started on going to bed when it's still light out! If you go to bed at 7:00 at night in the winter, at least it's already dark. But this week? It's just all weird.<br />
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Oh, and it's been raining here. Which is good (<a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-sun-will-come-out-tomorrow.html" target="_blank">here's</a> why, if you don't know). But doesn't make me feel any <br />
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better. It did, however, garner me this awesome umbrella shot which I'm including for no other reason than "it's pretty."<br />
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This is the most I <i>haven't</i> worked out since I started. I mean, since my neighbor and I started walking on weekdays last year, I have been a regular worker outer. Over time, I added weekend workouts even though I was going by myself. I even did two-a-days sometimes! And even when it's been difficult to fit a workout in or find a workout location, I still don't think I've gone more than 2 consecutive days without a workout since May 2 of 2012. And those days "off" I took -- the ones I can think of? They were Christmas and the week I did the Seattle Half Marathon and the week we just had in Kauai.<br />
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And so we're back to this: <i>I want to work out and can't!</i> Which sounds as weird to the Girl Who Cried Skinny as it might to you. What do you do when you want to work out and can't? What do you think when you see that sentence? It's rather mind-blowing to me, if I'm honest.<br />
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Great thing is I got on the stationary bike a little while ago and did 40 minutes. Nothing to boast about, but I have to admit it felt good for the first time in 5 days :)Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-37697713577602275052013-07-28T11:03:00.000-06:002013-07-28T11:03:23.773-06:00The sun will come out tomorrow ...The plan for today had been to do my first <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fourteener" target="_blank">fourteener</a> and you'd have been reading about <i>that</i> late tonight or some time tomorrow.<br />
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Instead, we got rain on and off all night last night, and this morning as well. And because I'm a native and we live in a drought state*, I'm not allowed to complain about rain (PSA: DO NOT COME TO COLORADO AND COMPLAIN ABOUT RAIN. EVER. WE WILL RUN YOU OUT OF TOWN). Truly; I'm not. I really do love when we get rain. But it did put a little crimp in our plans for today ....<br />
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And in fact, the rain wasn't really the only reason I didn't go today. For the last 3 days, I've been battling a summer cold and/or allergy something-or-other that makes me feel less than 100%. So although I really really wanted to do that hike today, it's probably better that I don't; and so I did feel a little relieved when I got the email last night that it was cancelled for sure.<br />
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In preparation for this epic hike, I have a new <a href="http://shop.camelbak.com/scout/d/1025_cl_4020" target="_blank">Camelbak</a>, and I had my trailrunning shoes ready, and I'd thought a lot about what I'd wear, and what food I'd take, and ... well. It will just have to wait for another day. And as you can imagine, I was still disappointed that it was cancelled<br />
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And so I woke up this morning feeling a little sorry for myself. A little pathetic. A little full of nose. A little scratchy of throat. And a lot "wah! I'm not doing a fourteener!"<br />
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And then I saw this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJESXNrv-TkYhf9hMmNsoXFnqpahqION6y1YG0oqmH_x1fmLrNRU0Bovxgy2N0HpZZFW1hHGKDccN69-Zt_W0muFqOZNftJ_vC4-2Uf0hpvqOUsdoMWW3otgjhEx2pVMRcJO7-avZRj79h/s1600/down+75.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJESXNrv-TkYhf9hMmNsoXFnqpahqION6y1YG0oqmH_x1fmLrNRU0Bovxgy2N0HpZZFW1hHGKDccN69-Zt_W0muFqOZNftJ_vC4-2Uf0hpvqOUsdoMWW3otgjhEx2pVMRcJO7-avZRj79h/s320/down+75.PNG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">down 75 lbs at 175!</td></tr>
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And now I feel a lot better :) <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Much of Colorado is a very dry state averaging only 17 inches (430 mm)
of precipitation per year statewide and rarely experiences a time when
some portion of the state is not in some degree of drought. The lack of precipitation contributes to the severity of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wildfire" title="Wildfire">wildfires</a> in the state such as the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hayman_Fire" title="Hayman Fire">Hayman Fire</a>, one of the largest wildfires in American history, and the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fourmile_Canyon#Fourmile_Canyon_Fire" title="Fourmile Canyon">Fourmile Canyon Fire</a> of 2010, which until the <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waldo_Canyon_Fire" title="Waldo Canyon Fire">Waldo Canyon Fire</a> of June 2012, and the <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Forest_Fire" title="Black Forest Fire">Black Forest Fire</a> approximately a year later, was the most destructive wildfire in Colorado's recorded history.</span>Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-39308014554459726562013-07-24T15:06:00.000-06:002013-08-09T17:54:02.057-06:00y'know the whole "tragic flaw" thing?<b>Don't use this blog entry to do your English Lit homework, kids. I have no idea if my memory is correct or not!</b><br />
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One of the few things I remember from my lit classes is that the tragic flaw isn't always a wholly bad thing. That is, it was a good quality or characteristic that "went bad" ... and thus became tragic.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stubborn Dutch people (incl lil sis), circa 1988?</td></tr>
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The other night I emailed my mom, sister, and brothers the stats I <a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/2013/07/i-got-email-this-morning.html" target="_blank">posted</a> in my last blog entry, and my mom's reply was, "no surprise when my daughter is dedicated to something." The light went on in my head that OHMYWORD my tragic flaw has finally been put to good use!<br />
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For years, I've been The Most Stubborn Child My Parents Had (I was also The Most Rebellious Child They Had, but that's another story), and my stubbornness has gotten me into more trouble than you can imagine. My father is from the Dutch province of Friesland, and evidently, Frisian stubbornness is legendary, and I got ALL of my dad's stubbornness. And then some.<br />
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So now I know: the reason I have been able to stay dedicated and committed for the last year is <i>because I am stubborn</i>.<br />
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So really, all the drug companies need to do is to figure out how to make people stubborn and they can make piles of money.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_DDDcC-s9X4hMBrkJW7GiNT2l3JHaUnpM6CLVqEwghdJ9Td23OKehYSZQ7cym5KbVUwQdArIs6gh_Z4D-OB_GnW3KtAF0weA8F123sCIeIn-U2LY-U7Ww8jhi5g55s2_StT3AgT27MSu/s1600/dad+mess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_DDDcC-s9X4hMBrkJW7GiNT2l3JHaUnpM6CLVqEwghdJ9Td23OKehYSZQ7cym5KbVUwQdArIs6gh_Z4D-OB_GnW3KtAF0weA8F123sCIeIn-U2LY-U7Ww8jhi5g55s2_StT3AgT27MSu/s320/dad+mess.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stubborn Dutch people, August 1991</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I got a follow-up email from my mom when I said something back to her about how my stubbornness was actually paying off. I will cherish it forever. She said, "Do you know that your dad always considered stubbornness (in himself) a positive quality?" My dad died in 1998, and I did not know that. And I'm so glad I do :)<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfNay-mTE37fNlx1OMqqhu7zeHINgzSeGo_1pY1Np9fOJYJpRBnGafYLPM98-c0O0CGikEgWTbBAGUoWq2b7yw0jdvf50tnzT4__IHS_zmr1X-yYcJd47jxT6PIxSYYIsdOC6F57EGi4w/s1600/Dad+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfNay-mTE37fNlx1OMqqhu7zeHINgzSeGo_1pY1Np9fOJYJpRBnGafYLPM98-c0O0CGikEgWTbBAGUoWq2b7yw0jdvf50tnzT4__IHS_zmr1X-yYcJd47jxT6PIxSYYIsdOC6F57EGi4w/s320/Dad+and+me.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stubborn Dutch people, circa 1992</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe9CFZpvPdtgTkKRoaFHFiBuWwvdfPg5JZdV4tFNH87fFCEwWehNqzS-NeYQofnjPNh3pZPi4UvF-HH0uUJfBaECJFD1u5VV4mOhGIt7qTiJbFcUW0M_XEIwsi-hAc50QqYmem3jL3C46/s1600/in+Oregon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe9CFZpvPdtgTkKRoaFHFiBuWwvdfPg5JZdV4tFNH87fFCEwWehNqzS-NeYQofnjPNh3pZPi4UvF-HH0uUJfBaECJFD1u5VV4mOhGIt7qTiJbFcUW0M_XEIwsi-hAc50QqYmem3jL3C46/s320/in+Oregon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a whole lotta Stubborn Dutch People, November 1998</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-69598751662124022482013-07-17T15:05:00.000-06:002013-07-17T15:17:27.236-06:00I got an email this morning ...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6cjn26OqEPRCkGg7-s7KgKowaA5_QFd5GiMrGLCyAAZV3c_uentb7T252zq5JTdXitQ_fwJX_w2SX7cf4AV4RvmChpUSpSHz8JnysjbB01fNdem0DCD-pmJsOGv4gkd-M7l9ud7QlSdX/s1600/450+workouts.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6cjn26OqEPRCkGg7-s7KgKowaA5_QFd5GiMrGLCyAAZV3c_uentb7T252zq5JTdXitQ_fwJX_w2SX7cf4AV4RvmChpUSpSHz8JnysjbB01fNdem0DCD-pmJsOGv4gkd-M7l9ud7QlSdX/s320/450+workouts.PNG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this email!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Do these numbers mean anything to you?<br />
<br />
1,043.42<br />
596<br />
240,685<br />
<br />
They blew me away.<br />
<br />
Let me put it this way:<br />
<ul>
<li>My grandmother passed away on April 18, 2012. I was in Alabama during that time with my siblings and other relatives. That was the trip when I found out about the <a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/2012/05/girl-who-cried-skinny.html" target="_blank">Epic Loseit Battle</a> my brothers were engaged in.</li>
<li>My neighbor and I started walking together on April 24, 2012 but the very next day I left for a trip to New York with some friends, and history would make you (and me) assume that the Girl Who Cried Skinny would let "walking with the neighbor" fall by the wayside ... again.</li>
<li>On May 2, 2012, I wrote on my calendar "Loseit for serious."</li>
<li>My neighbor and I walked pretty much every weekday morning from then on.</li>
<li>On June 5, 2012, I started using <a href="http://www.mapmywalk.com/my_home/" target="_blank">MapMyWalk</a>, and those numbers? Well....</li>
</ul>
<br />
They are part of my "lifetime stats" on MapMyWalk, and they represent<br />
1,043.42 miles (YES OF WALKING!)<br />
596 hours (YES OF EXERCISE)<br />
240,685 calories (YES BURNED)<br />
<br />
And the only reason I even looked at this today was because I got that email from MMW this morning, saying I'd worked out 450 times. What the?! Surely this is not the work of the Girl Who Cried Skinny?!<br />
<br />
<br />
And just for fun, there's this pic. I walked a hole in my shoes :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyL4Q0qOZMA9Bdayd92IMca360kfmlpIhqcj8ovCvCeCW9e5qmnkWbT3fqhDOfERH5V7CiMoU-Be8ISKzZba1QbGbrO_2amDBtzbE2LzBUoTDXYGsNOI7dfw5ygnrYaCgG9RLoiU84_JPu/s1600/holy+shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyL4Q0qOZMA9Bdayd92IMca360kfmlpIhqcj8ovCvCeCW9e5qmnkWbT3fqhDOfERH5V7CiMoU-Be8ISKzZba1QbGbrO_2amDBtzbE2LzBUoTDXYGsNOI7dfw5ygnrYaCgG9RLoiU84_JPu/s320/holy+shoes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-13557451751150935562013-07-12T16:17:00.000-06:002013-07-12T16:17:22.272-06:00Amazing. And I'm not even talking about Kauai's beaches.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7W-tyajPNJyC3HoZFcbQRLpSzFOIJLav8LmT8fPiV6fRf3X3uh1qtGkgP_QwcYDphdcSSNBAZN6OkfSbEVSkwAdKTlQZYj8f3Y1NJT3emVxakKJUzrymoxj0yX9QAAHDcqHi_EFR7GhlS/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7W-tyajPNJyC3HoZFcbQRLpSzFOIJLav8LmT8fPiV6fRf3X3uh1qtGkgP_QwcYDphdcSSNBAZN6OkfSbEVSkwAdKTlQZYj8f3Y1NJT3emVxakKJUzrymoxj0yX9QAAHDcqHi_EFR7GhlS/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Kids, I have something amazing to tell you, and it doesn't even include this picture <i>I took with my iPhone</i>. Well, it does a little. But that's not the the point or the amazing thing.<br />
<br />
This post is all about 2 things. Just two. 1. airplane bathrooms, and 2. hotel towels. Now watch: I'm going to get a bunch of travel industry spam.<br />
<br />
Anyway, for number 1:<br />
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you know I hadn't been on a plane post-weight-loss until the <a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/search/label/Seattle%20Marathon" target="_blank">Seattle Half Marathon</a> in November. Since then, I think I was only on one other plane trip (for Christmas). If you're like most people, you avoid airplane bathrooms like the plague. I'm like most people. So even though I'd been on 4 or so planes since losing a large chunk of my weight, I hadn't used an airplane bathroom. Because you know, a one-foot square box just isn't fun. But last week, my husband and I went to Kauai for the 2nd time in 22 years, and that's a long freaking flight, yo! So I actually had to use the bathroom on the plane. And ... OHMYWORD! AloHA! I fit in the bathroom! It was still small, of course, but ... it wasn't awful. I mean I really didn't mind it! And in fact, I went more than once on the first flight because (were you listening?) it wasn't awful! Historically, I'd go if I absolutely had to, but if I thought I needed to go again and we were an hour or so from landing, I'd wait. So here's my newest revelation: if you are not grossly overweight, an airplane bathroom is Just. Not. That. Bad.<br />
<br />
So that's number 1.<br />
<br />
Here's number 2: on Friday, July 5, at 2:28 pm Hawaii time, I experienced Nirvana. Or something really, really close. I WRAPPED A HOTEL TOWEL AROUND MYSELF! Not a beach towel; an actual, normal, hotel towel. Big girls know what this means. Small girls didn't know it wasn't normal. Trust me; it's not normal. Big girls spend their whole lives taking their clothes with them into any shower situation where a small girl would just wrap a towel around herself. Rejoice with me, friends: this was huge.<br />
<br />
Here's the instagram feed of our trip -- I tried not to add too much spam -- just a few pretty pics. <a href="http://followgram.me/tag/returntokauai" target="_blank">http://followgram.me/tag/<wbr></wbr>returntokauai</a>Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-75418640863576669762013-07-02T12:13:00.001-06:002013-07-02T12:13:59.903-06:00"Limping is still walking"I can't remember if I blogged about it or just talked about it a lot (and clearly I'm too lazy to go back and check), but in the first half mile of the <a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/search/label/Seattle%20Marathon" target="_blank">half marathon</a>, we passed a (larger) girl walking with a pin on her backpack that said, "Limping is still walking". It kind of choked me up! As we pulled up next to her, I told her I liked her pin and she smiled. Poor thing was walking by herself -- slowly -- but she was doing it! I was so impressed!<br />
<br />
A few days (or weeks or months) ago, this was in the SparkPeople email:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfL7BS33_gVUhH7WTHpgd-uBX-OzjTzOv9p5uJ3ujIErik1XcNxs2tGv4zk_EhAPL7qeoLL2nnp-rE93QSriq4Mo4CWqBEAiiLtu3ygr-6Ww1D7e1wbMvwpInzqG3-2N3AZWv3NbC_cXKm/s1600/quote_slow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfL7BS33_gVUhH7WTHpgd-uBX-OzjTzOv9p5uJ3ujIErik1XcNxs2tGv4zk_EhAPL7qeoLL2nnp-rE93QSriq4Mo4CWqBEAiiLtu3ygr-6Ww1D7e1wbMvwpInzqG3-2N3AZWv3NbC_cXKm/s320/quote_slow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I don't know why this has been on my mind so much lately, but perhaps you need some encouragement and so I needed to post it. Let me just tell you -- moving slowly is still moving. Walking slowly is still moving. Running slowly is still moving. Lifting 2-pound weights is still moving. Doing 10 situps is still moving. Get it? Do not be discouraged! Here's something else I pinned to my "bodyspiration" board months ago:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyD1WwKR3KcSch5wWXx2LGCrudGnHpZRIQMA4IurytKrKYcMSf8nj8DOlGlDbFWOw0Gj_IyJ4g4LjcVHMobw4gZDkufZ_CBXb6-z9L9Tbs7Kh8YNKy6mWQO8RHRhqOK9teZiZSPeZi0Bb/s500/hurts+now+warmup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyD1WwKR3KcSch5wWXx2LGCrudGnHpZRIQMA4IurytKrKYcMSf8nj8DOlGlDbFWOw0Gj_IyJ4g4LjcVHMobw4gZDkufZ_CBXb6-z9L9Tbs7Kh8YNKy6mWQO8RHRhqOK9teZiZSPeZi0Bb/s320/hurts+now+warmup.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Let me tell you: THIS. IS. TRUE. I used to huff and puff and sweat like a pig for 2 miles with my neighbor (and fear that I couldn't make it up the last teeny tiny uphill at the end before our street). Now I regularly do 6 or more miles and run some. And recently I went to my first Zumba class. During the first 3 minutes, it occurred to me <i>this is like 80s aerobics and I will probably die soon.</i> Imagine my surprise that although I did sweat like a pig, I didn't run out of air! And I did the whole hour. Shock. That's the only word for it.<br />
<br />
So be encouraged. You too can be shocked by something you never thought was possible. If you've already experienced it, tell me about it! Maybe it's something as simple as: one day you're sitting in a chair and you realize you can cross your legs. And it's been YEARS since you did that. YEARS. And even though there's no elegant way to take a picture of your own legs crossed, you still do it because ohmyHEAD I CAN CROSS MY LEGS!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAoWEXQwqZwbPgA93vacgyWESOs3zz0TU61WBCJJ4P7TSmLpXicCPwFEdum4svwe7wERkxxgOy8IoCHVy3QV7HMgSvG57kPDK_KFNnROJRLHrib4HPpnO9KBIiV-lyhaSMncOpr5OUmbpI/s1600/crossed+legs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAoWEXQwqZwbPgA93vacgyWESOs3zz0TU61WBCJJ4P7TSmLpXicCPwFEdum4svwe7wERkxxgOy8IoCHVy3QV7HMgSvG57kPDK_KFNnROJRLHrib4HPpnO9KBIiV-lyhaSMncOpr5OUmbpI/s320/crossed+legs.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-73568262426695334322013-06-26T11:18:00.001-06:002013-06-26T11:18:34.655-06:00It takes time ... lots of timeNobody ever said it would be easy.<br />
<br />
Actually, that's not true. People say it's easy all the time. They are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Boy, are they wrong.<br />
<br />
I've had a LOT of conversations over the last year about time and choices, and every time I have another one, I think, "I should blog about this." In fact, I started this particular blog entry in March :) (<i>yet another illustration of the time I don't have</i>)<br />
<br />
Anyway, I don't know if you're like I am or not, but as much as walking has been "easy" (relatively speaking); it's also been really hard in terms of time. As an example, I generally read about 100 books a year, give or take a few. Last year, my Goodreads "<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1717549-antof9?shelf=2012-read" target="_blank">2012 read</a>" tag told me I read a grand total of 16 books. And most all of them were "assigned" reading -- that is, they were for one of the book clubs I'm in. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure that I read a single book of my own choosing last year.... But I digress. My point is that losing weight or getting healthy or even just choosing to exercise in general has taken a LOT of time. Let's look at my (not comprehensive) bulletted TIME list:<br />
<ul>
<li>Less time for book reading</li>
<li>More dirty dishes on the counter more of the time. I think I've mentioned this before, but I swear our dishwasher was never empty this last year. It was always full of clean dishes that I only unloaded when the counter was so full I was forced to make the swap.</li>
<li>Lots of calendar-juggling for showers. This sounds funny, but was seriously a problem for a while. Historically, I prefer to work out first thing in the morning, shower, and then get on with my day. In a perfect, Pinterest-worthy life, that's certainly what I'd do. But that's not the real world. At least, not in my life, anyway. And so "needing to take a shower" because reason #985 why I didn't work out. IN THE PAST. Now I shower when I can. If I have time for a shower but not for my hair, I wear a hat. Being healthy is more important and that is (starting) to come first. I'm rather proud of this, even though it's inconvenient and I'm not that cute. (<i>Pro tip:</i> being 70 pounds smaller makes it less imperative to be in cute clothes and have my hair done. Skinny people go out in sweats or sweats-equivalents all the time, and still manage to look cute too.)</li>
<li>Working out creates additional laundry and/or laundry scenarios. So if you work out more, guess what? You either need more workout clothes, or to do laundry more often. And if you buy anything other than cotton sweats and t-shirts, you don't want to dry your workout clothes. So you have clothes on the clothes horse and/or wear clothes with wet waistbands or whatever. Either way, laundry matters in this new lifestyle.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsp1RQux2N7V3-PMmtoTQZXWrCrE7lv4n4tNJ7pB2KkYS1lagWKFEOjWSbqQxF9VHPPhM6Dd0VoNDPayrIMT77LzV-5GCZ2PUjJEyPBYJ3fjkdU4VlcHYk38G3l9qH14iubE_lnVo9QK13/s1600/lb+card.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsp1RQux2N7V3-PMmtoTQZXWrCrE7lv4n4tNJ7pB2KkYS1lagWKFEOjWSbqQxF9VHPPhM6Dd0VoNDPayrIMT77LzV-5GCZ2PUjJEyPBYJ3fjkdU4VlcHYk38G3l9qH14iubE_lnVo9QK13/s200/lb+card.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More evidence of the passing of time:<br />I cut this up! No more big girl stores!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
<li>Closet maintentance. I now find myself spending inordinate and heretofore-unprecedented amounts of time finding something to wear (that won't fall off), culling clothes for either the consignment shop or Goodwill or a friend, and shopping for new regular and workout clothes that aren't too expensive but will serve the purpose for now as this isn't the final size I'll be. Seriously, it's exhausting, and I'm not even one of those clotheshorsey girls!<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</li>
</ul>
<br />
There's more, but I don't want to read long blog entries any more than you do. The point is that it's <i>not</i> easy, and it <i>does</i> take more time. <b>Actually, that's not my point.</b> My point is this: <i>it's worth it</i>. It's really, really worth it. REALLY! I feel better, I look better, my husband smiles more, I smile more, .... seriously, it feels so so good to have lost 70 pounds. And even though I have more to go, the "how good it feels" is providing the motivation now. So yay!<br />
<br />
If you want to read additional, professional comments on "time," I copied and pasted the text below from a recent SparkPeople article. I thought it was pretty good reading, actually:<br />
<br />
Sometimes you have to make sacrifices in one area (like TV time) to make
room for another (like a trip to the gym). It's hard at first, but you get used to it. Really! Eventually, your desire to be fit
and healthy will outweigh your desire to be a couch potato! Where can
you cut back in order to make time for exercise?<br />
<b>1. Financial Fit Tip: Plan for the big stuff. </b>When you <a href="http://www.sparksavings.com/savings_article.asp?id=1409">go on vacation</a>,
you don't just wake up one morning and decide to shell out thousands of
dollars for last-minute flights and hotels, and you don't leave your
co-workers unprepared for your absence. You plan. Planning your big
expenditures ahead of time will save you serious dough. Whether it's a
car, a vacation, or a home remodeling project, sock away money each
month in an account set aside for that specific splurge. A couple
hundred dollars set aside over the course of a year has much less impact
than a couple of thousand does at the last minute.<br />
<br />
<b>Apply it to Physical Fitness: </b>Just like you wouldn't go
on a vacation at the last minute, you wouldn't wake up one morning and
decide to run a marathon, either. If <a href="http://www.sparkpeople.com/resource/fitness_articles.asp?id=743">you're new to the exercise arena</a>,
take it slow when it comes to working out, and work up to greater
challenges. You're more likely to avoid injuries and burnout if you ease
into exercise. If distance running is your goal, find an <a href="http://www.sparkpeople.com/resource/fitness_articles.asp?id=599">online training plan</a>
that will help you build up gradually to your desired race length. If
you want to do 20 push-ups or lose 100 pounds, start with five and go
from there.<br />
<br />
<b>Apply it to Physical Fitness:</b> Many people feel that
working out isn't worth their time if they can't get to a gym for a
solid hour. But it's time to rethink that mentality! According to the
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, <u><a href="http://www.sparkpeople.com/resource/fitness_articles.asp?id=202">exercising for 10 minutes</a></u>
at a time still counts toward your weekly goal of 150 minutes of
activity. So take that short walk to the post office, or climb the
stairs at work instead of taking the elevator. The little things do
matter and add up to something bigger! Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-82938822329526443222013-05-22T15:04:00.000-06:002013-05-22T22:44:42.039-06:00Comparison picsI said long ago that a lack of comparison pics was a big disappointment in one of the first weight loss blogs I read, and I was going to be sure to put a lot in my own blog. So it's possible I'm going overboard :) In this latest installment, I'm comparing our church's women's retreat from October of 2011 to our latest retreat in May of 2013. I told my husband leading worship must be pretty good exercise, as I came back from this year's retreat down 3.5 pounds if I recall correctly.<br />
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Anyway, here are some pics from 2011 and this year. I think it's pretty obvious which are which :) <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCV4LDf74KQIWBt7yrW8UU6J_D8NQkDy2X8QGnOb6zfPFEp9yHwyPYKWcqhx1gYhq_q5GLqnKNHy18lYpze-6VcDqd16Lq6ZgUC7_Ifd1uqnPz2WIjrKlip7sBLQ-T2vm1RaJeRpUKv_lx/s1600/2011+combo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCV4LDf74KQIWBt7yrW8UU6J_D8NQkDy2X8QGnOb6zfPFEp9yHwyPYKWcqhx1gYhq_q5GLqnKNHy18lYpze-6VcDqd16Lq6ZgUC7_Ifd1uqnPz2WIjrKlip7sBLQ-T2vm1RaJeRpUKv_lx/s320/2011+combo.JPG" width="320" /></a>Here's what's interesting to me. I had taken a lot of cute late summer/early fall-ish tops to wear -- it was still plenty warm down in Denver around that time, but when we got up in the mountains, it was cold. Colder than I prepared for. We even had some snow at least one of the days. So I chose to wear this long-sleeved thermal shirt on stage. I think I had taken it up as "free-time clothes". It was huge - even for me -- and I think (?) from the men's department. That and a fleece vest completed my look for that session. Dear Lord, did I not have a mirror?! My neighbor jokes about her "skinner tube" and ohmyword, that is totally what I have going on here. I wonder had I realized it if I could have stood up straighter and sucked that in ... or if that WAS sucking it in.<br />
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I've said <a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/2012/06/pneumonia-weight-2305.html" target="_blank">before</a> that a slim girl can wear just a t-shirt and jeans and be put together. Or at least not look sloppy and like they're in men's clothing. As further evidence of the difference added weight makes, consider this: for this year's retreat, we drove up to the mountains on Friday morning. We unloaded the band gear and set up what we could on stage, and then helped the decorating team where we could. We hung around most of the afternoon and didn't get to actually rehearse until 5:00. Dinner was from 5:45 - 7:00 and the first session started at 7:00. I had purposely dried my hair straight that morning, thinking I'd curl it before the session. Instead, I brushed my teeth, threw on a sweater, and ran (actual running) back to the building where we were meeting. And although I'd have liked to freshen up a little more, I felt fine. And comfortable. And not gross. Because I was almost 70 pounds lighter than last year, when I needed full make-up and curled hair for every session ... because I was so fat. I'm not feeling sorry for myself; I'm just stating the facts as they were. And are :)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-CDwoFKK4VpyQzI03jNOGciZlymsR6LfiAONLMh4Sy6tXDOwlj5UuobaUTzl8DhQqCgGuUGWIC_GrM5EN23aG5UcP16-tYfzaF5HFeMCpeGjYbg9UzkrgyFSCCHr5La2QbL8BPcfnNwb/s1600/retreat+2013+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-CDwoFKK4VpyQzI03jNOGciZlymsR6LfiAONLMh4Sy6tXDOwlj5UuobaUTzl8DhQqCgGuUGWIC_GrM5EN23aG5UcP16-tYfzaF5HFeMCpeGjYbg9UzkrgyFSCCHr5La2QbL8BPcfnNwb/s320/retreat+2013+2.jpg" width="320" /></a>So here I am in the dark (far left) and then after the session in a human scrabble game (FUN!) in the sweater I threw on over the tank top I wore all day. Please to ignore the one random jazz hand I'm holding up :)<br />
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Wanna hear something fun? My sis said she had to look at that pic twice to see me in it. Ha!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLeDJaLV6rXQ_sEI9aZ9OnH3CcpjPArq2_L_9D35IS8wAkl3Z5_Z4eMb11RtGcGwYgBNYUG5ls0kYoH5sTaO9aCrfUIiriK6i59x1UZHzBexwbDDNZ_0bdJ5joGHu8S2rpwD3I9t2JK1I9/s1600/human+scrabble.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLeDJaLV6rXQ_sEI9aZ9OnH3CcpjPArq2_L_9D35IS8wAkl3Z5_Z4eMb11RtGcGwYgBNYUG5ls0kYoH5sTaO9aCrfUIiriK6i59x1UZHzBexwbDDNZ_0bdJ5joGHu8S2rpwD3I9t2JK1I9/s320/human+scrabble.JPG" width="320" /></a>But my point is that I just don't <i>feel</i> the same as I did 70 pounds ago. I really can just throw on a sweater and for the most part, feel fine. I think when I was so heavy, finding clothes I liked and felt comfortable in was SUCH hard work! There were very few outfits I actually liked. So I was always trying to come up with a new outfit out of the existing ones, but not really succeeding (evidence A: brown thermal men's shirt). <br />
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Below are some more of the comparison pics. It sort of boggles me to look at then and now. It also makes me a little sad that I lived that much of my life that big, but I'm not dwelling on that. In fact, I recently told my hubs that I was sorry I was so fat for so long. He couldn't have been more gracious. He told me he'd always loved me and loved me just the same and that he appreciated me apologizing, but not to be sad or think about it a lot or feel guilty or whatever (I can't remember his exact words, but he was really, really sweet about it). So ... for your viewing pleasure: remaining comparison pics:<br />
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Oh, the monster sweatshirt shots are from Saturday night -- we had a
"pajama party", so I wore a big sweatshirt and yoga pants. Wow.<br />
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Just had to get in the full pic of the djembe and guitar player's jammie bottoms :)<br />
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The retreat committee ... acting like grownups. Trust me, folks; this is NOT your mother's women's ministry :)<br />
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I think I'm actually introducing the band in that pic on the left. Or something.<br />
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I had to wear the same pants the whole weekend because the long jersey maxi skirt I brought for Saturday night was see-through in the lights we brought. And I didn't even care! (I mean that I had to wear the same jeans; not that I didn't care about my see-through skirt)<br />
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Oh, and also: I stole this one from a friend's Instagram feed. We didn't have a wandering photographer this year like last year, and it didn't occur to me I should ask someone to take a pic :)<br />
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We didn't have a pajama party this year, but I did bring this t-shirt and yoga pants to sleep in. And on Saturday night, several of us visited in the lobby in our "jammies". I believe my exact words on this were, "don't you hate it when someone else shows up in the same jammies as you?"<br />
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(and if you're wondering, these are the shirts our church handed out when we added the evening service and asked people to come to it to make more room at the morning services. See? It says RedRocksPM)<br />
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I didn't look schlumpy the ENTIRE retreat last year. See?<br />
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Also, what I love about this particular picture is that at the end of the session on the first night, we broke into groups and to encourage inter-generational mingling, each group had to have people born in at least 4 different decades. Well, this is the band, and we did. I was born in the 60s, the keyboard and graphics girls were born in the 70s, the djembe player was born in the 80s, and the guitar & fiddle player was born in the 90s! That made me so happy :)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMb16uZbHNE-mgk80tHl_NHUAFS3A39lkTeYlf7sAXQ1X14cwQqH219_7RtwnZAgU10aocCMHHx0Ahu1hO4t1L4IR2LpPBzTF-sQxSVrmVUwVhGcFgMkcDxhCIo1TzaVTHg6RxzZyKF-5/s1600/retreat+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDIRijfHm0EISbvMP5Lfis6d00sT9X8h8eQSenSzXkquFXVUEshEfOqo1xxwto1jp1UwyENTgHiP0Kbkoe9Nlm4bSCZ7uUDVqHtRIikOzdTh23kE_mdsioVneZMioINiNz_-xjtTiW3it/s1600/retreat+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a> Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-1850538008335841552013-05-09T16:49:00.000-06:002013-05-09T16:49:06.709-06:00When you are 100 lbs overweight, the weight comes off ... quickly (relatively speaking)When you're ... oh, 30 pounds or so overweight, not so much. For anyone keeping track, I hit the -60 "decade" on January 5. Monday was May 6. 4 months to the almost-day. For the last 4 months, it seemed as if I'd never hit that -70! Sure, for a time I was all, "I made it through Christmas and travel and all that stuff and kept losing. I'm a stud." And then I walked a little less because you know, January in Colorado. And then February. And then March. And I did use the stationary bike in the basement, and I did walk when it was sunny (which it was, because you know, January in Colorado), but the scale wasn't moving. Or rather, it was, but it just kept floating between 185, 183, 184, 182.5, back up to 186, 184, 182 ... you get the picture. And I was a little discouraged, but not too. I just thought it was taking an awful dang long time.<br />
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And then I went on the women's retreat for our church and when I got home, I had shot right through that plateau and landed at 178 (-72)! You can guess my response. HOLY FREAKING NO WAY COW ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! And then my second response? Dang. I wanted a pic of "you are down 70 pounds". There is nothing "round" about 72. Nothing equal. Nothing milestone-y. *sigh* I really do have the most ridiculous first world problems, don't I? Poor thing.<br />
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So ... here is the latest 10-pound pic, and all its round faced little friends.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rnf2ksKiGy2f4Sl9hugkFwk2RD0x6yKAR6l5cFWh3rG7aMFdjbTxp14PyBF50ZI3Sp2S3IkN84yphWLJt2gAhWUWUFgmMIuLu2SVs0-3DXVfhe_ejK4TMFKq88H140B9xKdXK_TG_wrV/s1600/70+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rnf2ksKiGy2f4Sl9hugkFwk2RD0x6yKAR6l5cFWh3rG7aMFdjbTxp14PyBF50ZI3Sp2S3IkN84yphWLJt2gAhWUWUFgmMIuLu2SVs0-3DXVfhe_ejK4TMFKq88H140B9xKdXK_TG_wrV/s320/70+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-70</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih327HGNFTycQ9V1juWxmc2nJ6b5Y8qplkZTtEKAyQMKs0MFtDZNSPeqj-wGgB9L4DnQrBIJ7cMXJeAAGXyoDyQAo4OKN9f0hfe7qEkl-5mjzM44yrCJtZUNsXySVA1F15KGvyqMiXgqsw/s1600/60+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih327HGNFTycQ9V1juWxmc2nJ6b5Y8qplkZTtEKAyQMKs0MFtDZNSPeqj-wGgB9L4DnQrBIJ7cMXJeAAGXyoDyQAo4OKN9f0hfe7qEkl-5mjzM44yrCJtZUNsXySVA1F15KGvyqMiXgqsw/s320/60+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-60</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGV5ROq_CyCV2KtdzZVq0Goh2WmJTrMm757HdcanMq2fLQxJ8IZYwESoSSF0rq2lF-MT4kA9GIqVJSRORLs63MhMO_1mCZPFVpI233p1pD-cZG-09YYGL_B8aSG6kv9VrEygDRtKrXnkv/s1600/50+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGV5ROq_CyCV2KtdzZVq0Goh2WmJTrMm757HdcanMq2fLQxJ8IZYwESoSSF0rq2lF-MT4kA9GIqVJSRORLs63MhMO_1mCZPFVpI233p1pD-cZG-09YYGL_B8aSG6kv9VrEygDRtKrXnkv/s320/50+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-50</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfDHlj3r6iporYhMwXNJOpJS3O0Il7V1zJNsmsTLDApnb_4KtERJWDm_APXZXseBRpNYKbmRa0nrrSXLEd1lxUBKyhmruYb_4Gdhi0gpEY3Ct4IOQP36AJM-bCmBA-a5SODBg8Bm0h85J/s1600/40+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfDHlj3r6iporYhMwXNJOpJS3O0Il7V1zJNsmsTLDApnb_4KtERJWDm_APXZXseBRpNYKbmRa0nrrSXLEd1lxUBKyhmruYb_4Gdhi0gpEY3Ct4IOQP36AJM-bCmBA-a5SODBg8Bm0h85J/s320/40+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-40</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WqqTdn6Mck-M8oNkwuPhHb_TKQVAcX1xi1RsMLXo6y12lbwIsjEdBo07EQ8rvuO10eSKGUHT1wppk4JkxNUsiGWMOAmYHYaigfNlh75900LDjsLxT9u9jYMll6xjlysmTDv8ZM3CO3eh/s1600/30+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WqqTdn6Mck-M8oNkwuPhHb_TKQVAcX1xi1RsMLXo6y12lbwIsjEdBo07EQ8rvuO10eSKGUHT1wppk4JkxNUsiGWMOAmYHYaigfNlh75900LDjsLxT9u9jYMll6xjlysmTDv8ZM3CO3eh/s320/30+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-30</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWIv0fd7bTsNHD7pE4jaCrh6SnXI17htzX6PZBuQ_T9ccYCyPo7DASqmaSDiXU2S-_o2_Cll_pw4JyW6AH3y4RAHg-PH45LfbpRnsevJG98p3NXM5p5Z3DP77vH-D5xc6FgYMConaQulTP/s1600/230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWIv0fd7bTsNHD7pE4jaCrh6SnXI17htzX6PZBuQ_T9ccYCyPo7DASqmaSDiXU2S-_o2_Cll_pw4JyW6AH3y4RAHg-PH45LfbpRnsevJG98p3NXM5p5Z3DP77vH-D5xc6FgYMConaQulTP/s320/230.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-20</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpnzenIB7r87N85nAiFIlG02odqYMPXmiSX6hWVBXowCS_jcWD59tKCDnkTA67hSFCEY95cOmZe5soKlYFnkEmnWLzD5_I6pCcno06JR3gbxmvijzEnqc3HDps-yV81jYlgqZorzd8ITY/s1600/10+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpnzenIB7r87N85nAiFIlG02odqYMPXmiSX6hWVBXowCS_jcWD59tKCDnkTA67hSFCEY95cOmZe5soKlYFnkEmnWLzD5_I6pCcno06JR3gbxmvijzEnqc3HDps-yV81jYlgqZorzd8ITY/s320/10+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-10</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUUuJgfNNe4NG-96OkQJtb5j7jnKG0aM7JAO_KdyqyUQPytOQZP-u2otG5jr5y9ToG-H1gkDYBPr2qJi4fdV9wlNtiRuydhQJLjjhoMmSGtt67fJHp6tbX81z8L3foKRmuOIvBAjhAKXP/s1600/239.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MBGOcPYJMxqgfNMdLB4xyLrF3E1oWpyFrp_AEPR6tKRt2jsOO4HKyfVgnxwoVCv0ruAH4ed5SYe7rtPVw_7XNNmGswpUIxXCO_Qe5F1El7rGBF0x6LFVrhl3T1taPHCejIHKshw6q8G5/s1600/250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MBGOcPYJMxqgfNMdLB4xyLrF3E1oWpyFrp_AEPR6tKRt2jsOO4HKyfVgnxwoVCv0ruAH4ed5SYe7rtPVw_7XNNmGswpUIxXCO_Qe5F1El7rGBF0x6LFVrhl3T1taPHCejIHKshw6q8G5/s320/250.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approx 250 lbs</td></tr>
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<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-87779550738962587362013-03-26T10:34:00.001-06:002013-03-26T10:35:05.427-06:00Magical Transformer Underwear!It's possible this will only entertain me, but ... well, that means at least one person thinks it's entertaining, so here you have it: transformer underwear.<br />
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I mentioned recently that size 7 underwear looks significantly smaller straight out of the package than size 9. Guess what? It also looks smaller than size 10! Turns out I'd been wearing underwear sizes 9 and 10 since I was at my highest weight. Interestingly, of all the clothes I'd taken to the consignment shop, or the charity shop, or are sitting in a pile because I don't know what to do with them, it took me QUITE a while to need new underwear. But evidently I'm a little slow on the uptake, because I was thinking, "these still fit me" all along. When in fact what had happened was this:<br />
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Cute little hipster underwear that used to fit like this or was at least cut to fit like this (only with a few more fat rolls than this model, plus actual hips):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe0eNdvdb3HnP1zEaJB1MRIb_m9Zrk2eH5j7R3QQc4HyaupwGH8vtzCMCs4hU8bZ8IK5vxrV367LvK3drEjOsI5cvx3-UBMblgf6FppAO_7Nvef_FCWdeuxQKz8GKeTstgn-Tzs6EAwBfD/s1600/hipsters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe0eNdvdb3HnP1zEaJB1MRIb_m9Zrk2eH5j7R3QQc4HyaupwGH8vtzCMCs4hU8bZ8IK5vxrV367LvK3drEjOsI5cvx3-UBMblgf6FppAO_7Nvef_FCWdeuxQKz8GKeTstgn-Tzs6EAwBfD/s1600/hipsters.jpg" /></a></div>
Turned into granny panties like this (The Hubs calls them GPs):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCy_JHy0JyItLpIcIZU0QUeTvrnWTArKdZqwoGienweg7FvF3dxMoSGxJ05lN5S9VlMHwVfvx5AShBF1mIVPWoWCjumg42FE0M_CPGVrtyXIJwnDx_c73syg8eMi8klM5errKpezWcfmdV/s1600/GPs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCy_JHy0JyItLpIcIZU0QUeTvrnWTArKdZqwoGienweg7FvF3dxMoSGxJ05lN5S9VlMHwVfvx5AShBF1mIVPWoWCjumg42FE0M_CPGVrtyXIJwnDx_c73syg8eMi8klM5errKpezWcfmdV/s1600/GPs.jpg" /></a></div>
So ... yes, in fact, they DO fit ... but ohmyword, they look hilarious! What's funnier is that I don't think I even figured it out -- The Hubs noticed I'd been wearing GPs -- lots of them -- since I'd lost weight (the assumption, of course, being that once a person lost weight, they'd prefer littler, prettier undies, no?), and even then it took a while for me to figure it out. OH. DUH. I actually <i>have</i> lost weight, and continuing to wear the same underwear just means it covers more of me. And because there's nothing wrong with them -- no rips, tears, or holes -- I hate to throw them out!<br />
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But I've tossed all the 10s (no; I am NOT donating them to a charity shop), and I'm weeding out the 9s. And I'm wearing the new 7s that I bought, which look a lot more like the top picture on me than any underwear ever did before :)<br />
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Now, if someone could please get rid of these piles ...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JiIvS3NnOPh-DQ8_uv9K9k0PKRbAOzpKAOlzrfcToNHne1dOxRROdDXNHMT3k7dOfyZMLnYphbleAXKBORc-clwTQj2chkwlHaj-EYMZB_YXzpOOFKnXnu74qOr3FoDnh23HUH1Nnou-/s1600/pile+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JiIvS3NnOPh-DQ8_uv9K9k0PKRbAOzpKAOlzrfcToNHne1dOxRROdDXNHMT3k7dOfyZMLnYphbleAXKBORc-clwTQj2chkwlHaj-EYMZB_YXzpOOFKnXnu74qOr3FoDnh23HUH1Nnou-/s320/pile+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1. clothes I think I'm going to do something with 2. clothes I have no idea why are in another pile 3. clothes to go to the charity shop</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8_wn7xt30m33E8k9leEZ8U_nVdYN3vFewMSi1a8JR8zEbgIiLCCtjkAwHW9JG7X_rNUmy2WHx_rfT4NzpDrOwCZzlCFa20kGnZ4nYxm4MYTPy0zwI5M45226EHxzkKQvSEpIL9ZUP_o5/s1600/pile+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8_wn7xt30m33E8k9leEZ8U_nVdYN3vFewMSi1a8JR8zEbgIiLCCtjkAwHW9JG7X_rNUmy2WHx_rfT4NzpDrOwCZzlCFa20kGnZ4nYxm4MYTPy0zwI5M45226EHxzkKQvSEpIL9ZUP_o5/s320/pile+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1. clothes for the consignment shop for next winter 2. rag bag</td></tr>
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<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-12547838219392350252013-03-19T14:29:00.001-06:002013-03-19T14:29:22.727-06:00It's about the health, stupid.So here's what I was planning to write about today:<br />
My calendar.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkF8UhyLnhspOXPrHl63KaUf50wppsW_90Sc_2kJ7v8pzivpxWKOrX-aaeZhuwcphkKdf6Ga0q87MXe1uVzmkQQXqTwyFHRdUiuEMMcD79FpxHxgxJDUS6CNT8wINq0iv6rdR90oPS4n3X/s1600/calendar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkF8UhyLnhspOXPrHl63KaUf50wppsW_90Sc_2kJ7v8pzivpxWKOrX-aaeZhuwcphkKdf6Ga0q87MXe1uVzmkQQXqTwyFHRdUiuEMMcD79FpxHxgxJDUS6CNT8wINq0iv6rdR90oPS4n3X/s320/calendar.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Why? Because it's just one of the many things that has helped motivate me, keep me on track, and kept me going over the last ... 46 weeks (that info also from my calendar). Why did I think it was worth writing about? Well, I was thinking this morning about how much I like the ability to color-code things (yes, I like office supply stores, too), and using my calendar is just one more thing that has helped me. Last spring/summer and part of the fall*, I walked with my neighbor almost every morning. So I decided to put it into my calendar as a recurring event. Basically, every morning at 6:30, it said "Walk with Rachel." And we did. Then one day I put a Wednesday night yoga class in the calendar, too. And I realized it shouldn't actually be the default lavender that many of my events were. I needed a color for HEALTH! And so began the "greening" of my calendar. My 6:30 weekday appointment with my neighbor? GREEN. My sporadic yoga classes? GREEN. So when I made a doctor's appointment, or anything that had to do with my health, I made it GREEN. Now those things on my calendar were no longer "exercise;" they were "health appointments!"<br />
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I don't know if that helps you or not, but honestly? It helped me. And I'll take all the help I can get. Do you like checking things off? Putting them in lists? Filling in blanks on your calendar? If you like doing any of those things in the rest of your life, I bet you'd like doing them for working out, too. Go ahead -- prove me wrong :)<br />
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And so on my way to my mammogram (appoint in GREEN) this morning, I thought I'd write a bit about how using my calendar in this way actually became motivational.<br />
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Except that once I got into my smock and 3/4 of the way through the appointment, the fire alarm went off, and that became much more interesting :) So yeah, the fire alarm went off while I was having a mammogram (which is almost as funny as the time I was rear-ended on the way to a root canal). And I'll just leave you with how I looked today at 185 pounds, and how I looked at the last appointment, at 195 pounds (I had a mid-year checkup checkup in there), because I keep saying I'm going to post progress photos.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit9nOHB6a6bDk5KrfA0pBgi-lZHmwkB9QIJO0KKsk9xMVMZUVpRuzzNFOJCKawQg-ApbcsMms5WfP2nT2bxeZVVqMQWDidAW_4w1Uahs8l25MaVN1OTWhl3GyqOwyBOebVZEzfEr1KCUty/s1600/195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit9nOHB6a6bDk5KrfA0pBgi-lZHmwkB9QIJO0KKsk9xMVMZUVpRuzzNFOJCKawQg-ApbcsMms5WfP2nT2bxeZVVqMQWDidAW_4w1Uahs8l25MaVN1OTWhl3GyqOwyBOebVZEzfEr1KCUty/s320/195.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">195 lbs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SfQ8NC8YiPIA_bs_J80Zrcwfji6Wd8YZSKqNC3kfzUn7RXVQW3aIZrcoiuBXkerg7uO3Pab-jQKtoA2Q8azH29bWNk64O0yfPxkj8dekdqnmGlhF_Nua5gPfh4I3v73gzw0Ann3nS0yT/s1600/3.19+185+lbs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SfQ8NC8YiPIA_bs_J80Zrcwfji6Wd8YZSKqNC3kfzUn7RXVQW3aIZrcoiuBXkerg7uO3Pab-jQKtoA2Q8azH29bWNk64O0yfPxkj8dekdqnmGlhF_Nua5gPfh4I3v73gzw0Ann3nS0yT/s320/3.19+185+lbs.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">185 lbs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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*My neighbor had a baby in September, so our walking schedule -- together -- is pretty random now. It's no longer on the calendar, but that's ok because working out is now an ingrained part of my life. Which was the whole point to begin with.Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-46828641375526832892013-03-13T15:12:00.002-06:002013-03-13T15:12:24.053-06:00And then I compared two pictures...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_HDsucCQu5EPaoP9gutwWOVeSyqJfR_KzarDDSKNJbLqgY8gWFCKaX_PnzD2hw_mq0tsoD5kbv66Rzd2a0PXrZhzU37LdfjFvpmokdVTvgbEX-mHUXy8F5qOxImlDNLfe0VzkK58LLAX1/s1600/procrastinationtriumph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_HDsucCQu5EPaoP9gutwWOVeSyqJfR_KzarDDSKNJbLqgY8gWFCKaX_PnzD2hw_mq0tsoD5kbv66Rzd2a0PXrZhzU37LdfjFvpmokdVTvgbEX-mHUXy8F5qOxImlDNLfe0VzkK58LLAX1/s320/procrastinationtriumph.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
I saw this this morning, and because I am, in fact, the Queen of Procrastination, it seemed appropriate. Why, beyond the obvious? Because I was on Pinterest, looking for some inspiration :) LOLz <br />
<br />
Anyway, back to the subject at hand:<br />
A long time ago (June 6, 2012, to be exact), I took a <a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/2012/06/couple-days-ago-after-my-shower-i-put.html" target="_blank">picture</a> of myself in an outfit I wear often to walk in. It occurred to me sometime later that it might be fun to continue to take pics of myself in the same outfit over time, for comparison purposes. So I've been taking this picture ever since, randomly when I happen to be wearing the same clothes. Yes, the same clothes. Oddly, they aren't falling off me yet, which would be kind of cool, but suffice it to say they are snug and/or made of magical stretchy things. Or something.<br />
<br />
On February 28, 2013, I happened to be wearing that outfit again, so I took the pic. And for the first time, I compared it to the original. I'd been avoiding comparing them - I see them periodically when I scroll through the pics in my phone's photo album, but I really haven't looked closely at them. It's possible I feared there wouldn't be a noticeable difference, if I'm being honest.<br />
<br />
Anyway, if this makes you spontaneously burst into "Baby Got Back," don't feel bad -- I did, too :)<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy85xVodQqqipIAdRo9aXYowFxl48wWbNFBXpC9dqEOZwVszWlmT8JymTZf3jVATzLKoYgEN6m5ViHpM6Notd1BnriOcR0yervX8XTgTe8ZCxhd6I8GBOdbhIXylO9bYxHroZu5C5RoTBF/s1600/purpleblackcomparison.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy85xVodQqqipIAdRo9aXYowFxl48wWbNFBXpC9dqEOZwVszWlmT8JymTZf3jVATzLKoYgEN6m5ViHpM6Notd1BnriOcR0yervX8XTgTe8ZCxhd6I8GBOdbhIXylO9bYxHroZu5C5RoTBF/s400/purpleblackcomparison.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">June 6, 234 lbs vs. Feb 28, 187 lbs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Yes, I will post the whole series when I am closer to my goal weight, but for now, this is the wallpaper on my phone because I find it frickin inspiring!<br />
<br />
And for some other non-milestone milestones, I have this to share with you:<br />
<ul>
<li>Size 7 underwear is visibly, noticeably smaller than size 9 underwear. Trust me on this.</li>
<li>I finally had to take my wedding ring in to be sized down, because it was about to fall off me. So yeah, that happened.</li>
</ul>
Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-30346955121841329202013-02-10T12:58:00.000-07:002013-02-10T13:15:36.404-07:00Yes, I really did walk a half marathon!<br />
And I'd like to tell you about it :)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5-BQExydPfC9n0sm0fiOQggBcjIbO0G4tOR0331V0wic8Icj-1xeRMQF8dDnISONyJeV4uC6w7d3CQPGBu8wbBEFR-dvSrK8Z1AyRRlXwI5Yi3_BeotKJiwnDZoWkaArEWgvI_grimLx/s1600/signage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5-BQExydPfC9n0sm0fiOQggBcjIbO0G4tOR0331V0wic8Icj-1xeRMQF8dDnISONyJeV4uC6w7d3CQPGBu8wbBEFR-dvSrK8Z1AyRRlXwI5Yi3_BeotKJiwnDZoWkaArEWgvI_grimLx/s320/signage.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Warning: this entry is long, picture-heavy, and may not be in complete sentences.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KDzI-xV04BdW_uuSH33l2P8Qxx2pySOlHl-BsZATlGB6QEldiOFUF5mZlolSHzklKoTaZoSocgmBC1eudu2_H7keWRJGu2MgSVpp4IiSO0Z9Qu64DYDSfIOeGE1s210k8PU4nB90kq6V/s1600/before.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KDzI-xV04BdW_uuSH33l2P8Qxx2pySOlHl-BsZATlGB6QEldiOFUF5mZlolSHzklKoTaZoSocgmBC1eudu2_H7keWRJGu2MgSVpp4IiSO0Z9Qu64DYDSfIOeGE1s210k8PU4nB90kq6V/s200/before.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">about to begin our epic adventure</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
So ... where to begin?<br />
<br />
It was hard.<br />
but not impossible.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIeq-dMVkzKGIrmSv9iSajZqzD8rPiN42vAUxLVotn0IVhDQhQrrhM8AqLMWcgJXxFsigwqYuJ7oSvyux0RbT6mipVQlay_1iVmq9Btw6oW5zXkP1J7YAmapOrZcmoYWKYNBwKSoX8C__/s1600/cheerleaders.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIeq-dMVkzKGIrmSv9iSajZqzD8rPiN42vAUxLVotn0IVhDQhQrrhM8AqLMWcgJXxFsigwqYuJ7oSvyux0RbT6mipVQlay_1iVmq9Btw6oW5zXkP1J7YAmapOrZcmoYWKYNBwKSoX8C__/s320/cheerleaders.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheering Gramma and the Boyz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We
set (and kept) such a good pace that my poor brother-in-law who had
planned out all the cheering spots on the route, based on me telling him
I did 15-minute miles ... totally missed us (but they were all there
yelling at the end!). I felt horrible that he'd worked so hard to get
my mom and 3 squirrelly little boys to those spots on the map and then
he felt bad for not meeting us and then Sharon made a good point: if we
were missing our cheerleaders because we were walking at such a
fantastic pace, that was a pretty awesome thing. Also, at least one of
the boys thought one of us would win and/or break a
record. Love that.<br />
<br />
There was a point at which I thought, "am I going to have to stop?"<br />
and
shortly after that I thought, "I'm just going to have to tell Sharon to
go on ahead and I'll just finish it much more slowly."<br />
I got a little bit choked up when I realized we were on the final incline into the stadium.<br />
...and shortly after that we were done!<br />
<br />
Yes, I'd do it again.<br />
Although maybe not in cold, wet Seattle (but there's something to be said for sea-level).<br />
<ul><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInIkUlsbpPebb2BId-D7yi8s1coLeDjJ3YWhTyNXjS_YGkjRs_4vtoe3ni_L6Y5KGnnFIIRqxDlyOIJpmNU7YAR5aH0w9ooXk35uTjoYV0YyVn5DL6va9BY097TWB0_xnP9BwA-2WiBBZ/s1600/fog+shot.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInIkUlsbpPebb2BId-D7yi8s1coLeDjJ3YWhTyNXjS_YGkjRs_4vtoe3ni_L6Y5KGnnFIIRqxDlyOIJpmNU7YAR5aH0w9ooXk35uTjoYV0YyVn5DL6va9BY097TWB0_xnP9BwA-2WiBBZ/s320/fog+shot.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">obligatory fog shot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</ul>
And in case I didn't make it clear in my "<a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-night-before-marathon.html" target="_blank">night before the marathon</a>"
post, let me be clear: although my legs will never be shorter, losing
all this weight has made a HUGE difference in how I feel about flying.
Seriously. While not actually "comfortable", my flights to/from Seattle
and again at Christmas to/from Vermont were totally new experiences for
me. Flying 50+ pounds lighter is just plain nothing like it was when I
was heavy(ier). Fitting into the seat and not spending the entire
flight pushing down the armrest that my fat is pushing up makes the
whole flight so pleasant! And although I never used a seat belt
extender, I'm pretty sure I was on the way to needing one. Thankfully I
will never experience that and even though my hips are still pretty
wide, they now fit in the standard coach seat just fine,
thankyouverymuch. Amazing. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnkC_wTbrG_nQtG4Y8XCr5Mx9x6RFrpECjJLPiA8qmmvPc91csSuwUf4l_UNMro6yvoqkNl4HGkW92yOYcYrkwZ73O0dL2W9GGT4Lfl9xer84Tc8gW6WQ4wBSDb2ilEtGDKMb7KiwHieIm/s1600/mom+son.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnkC_wTbrG_nQtG4Y8XCr5Mx9x6RFrpECjJLPiA8qmmvPc91csSuwUf4l_UNMro6yvoqkNl4HGkW92yOYcYrkwZ73O0dL2W9GGT4Lfl9xer84Tc8gW6WQ4wBSDb2ilEtGDKMb7KiwHieIm/s320/mom+son.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love this pic of my sis and her oldest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVorFDd9YlV-QmEud4Q-jqVL3USJ_QgGXJrl3PvVi-lhQHUZ3nFxdyYKt8D-aBcH4N1-_0LdBjhcQ7Q82CjgdIXtOvPYb9r6tbGF33K-hz9iWj_6TDr6-rxzSHHiKOUneJ52l8XDSaYArp/s1600/happy+Onnie.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVorFDd9YlV-QmEud4Q-jqVL3USJ_QgGXJrl3PvVi-lhQHUZ3nFxdyYKt8D-aBcH4N1-_0LdBjhcQ7Q82CjgdIXtOvPYb9r6tbGF33K-hz9iWj_6TDr6-rxzSHHiKOUneJ52l8XDSaYArp/s320/happy+Onnie.jpg" width="320" /></a>
There's a picture at my sister's house I've always liked. It's from
when we lived in Turkey, and for some reason my sister (age 5? 6? no
older) went jogging with my dad, who was the Chief of Police on base.
The pic was taken by an "official" photographer and I think ended up in
the base newspaper or something. When I saw this one of my sister her
and her (oldest son) manchild, I got choked up because it reminded me of
that other picture. I love their smiles here, I love that even though she told him to go on ahead without her he stayed with her, and I love the man he's
becoming!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And here is my fabulous
oldest niece. Her foot hurt, and she had to slow down, but you'd never
know it from this pic. This is the happy, sunny girl I have known since
... hmmm ... since she was 4 months old at our wedding. I love this
beautiful, smart, funny, thoughtful girl so much! I'm so, so glad she
did this race with us!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVCZRWDLfb_4XxFaAuxPUHzhPB2utUYVSaZJzg97RbiyOwLPRXEYBSraBd9_T82tBKXtXKeQGsy5AbP9eUBhs1IymRWtKyXBdZxMC0lCG72KjcNm7g2Zx-prqjg6ZjNO4PYiRrjwM6bcR/s1600/finishing.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJVCZRWDLfb_4XxFaAuxPUHzhPB2utUYVSaZJzg97RbiyOwLPRXEYBSraBd9_T82tBKXtXKeQGsy5AbP9eUBhs1IymRWtKyXBdZxMC0lCG72KjcNm7g2Zx-prqjg6ZjNO4PYiRrjwM6bcR/s320/finishing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
And
here we are, about to cross the finish line. I realized later that all
the stuff I had in my vest pockets made me look pregnant, but oh well.
Those kinds of things don't actually bother me as much anymore. Funny,
that. Also? In all the official pictures of the race, my mouth is
open. I may or may not have talked Sharon's ear off. Whoops.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvOhqGVH2J4ukwlsrgkgTi_L5BN-pV_qI94FnT1jRlZm3ZIogD7nLqrcV_4H6ufmuXmV7Dv1udlNzORla6qbYi-hoAJbRBcwdRlHVQPB5IVQpBa-kpca3j51fqozqh1UD46OxWh-w0POt/s1600/group.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvOhqGVH2J4ukwlsrgkgTi_L5BN-pV_qI94FnT1jRlZm3ZIogD7nLqrcV_4H6ufmuXmV7Dv1udlNzORla6qbYi-hoAJbRBcwdRlHVQPB5IVQpBa-kpca3j51fqozqh1UD46OxWh-w0POt/s320/group.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRj87Eg8qw8DDhghrBobl-2_wbmPDHlpVu3deJa2VJGRAnK3Yvu39lTfxX6dQ8c90yaPApUHZkcb-K5VTXMqNC-aIK6khhyhS6ii1YxFwBOn_N9hoXN76IuUurgGtzjRG5kq1rBWfm7TnI/s1600/warming+room.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRj87Eg8qw8DDhghrBobl-2_wbmPDHlpVu3deJa2VJGRAnK3Yvu39lTfxX6dQ8c90yaPApUHZkcb-K5VTXMqNC-aIK6khhyhS6ii1YxFwBOn_N9hoXN76IuUurgGtzjRG5kq1rBWfm7TnI/s320/warming+room.jpg" width="320" /></a>Here
is the whole squad at the end. I seriously love this shot. We did
it! We all did it! (sis is wearing a warming blanket -- that question
has come up a lot) See our medals? They are surprisingly substantial-feeling. And I wished I'd worn mine on the flight home. Oh well. Now I know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And
here are some of our cheerleaders and two of the runners, warming up
... in the warming room. I have very cute nieces and nephews, no?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
If you are considering walking or running a half marathon, I can recommend a great post-marathon routine:<br />
<ul>
<li>Go to the evening service at church.</li>
<li>Try to stay awake. It's HARD. I'm not gonna lie.</li>
<li>Have
Chipotle for dinner (seriously, a burrito as big as your head is a
GREAT way to begin to fill the huge hole in your gut that won't be
satisfied).</li>
<li>Followed by chocolate chip cookie dough. </li>
<li>And a pedicure the next day.</li>
</ul>
<ul><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcC8aOzOHnjuNkBLRHs8jWWhXWyEByIHBwH4xjgwBDLl7Tn5LMU-hL86ZtloYBRDNohqLNTdSue2svJ6uojnWZ2BtU58hF3jEsMEPhQu4ex8qetXM1LbruvcvyKaKuIGKuUkzNvoU0aiq/s1600/pedis.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcC8aOzOHnjuNkBLRHs8jWWhXWyEByIHBwH4xjgwBDLl7Tn5LMU-hL86ZtloYBRDNohqLNTdSue2svJ6uojnWZ2BtU58hF3jEsMEPhQu4ex8qetXM1LbruvcvyKaKuIGKuUkzNvoU0aiq/s200/pedis.JPG" width="200" /></a><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaSoAdHKZeHjf1UQyLFAebpEHRrpPlZwEM_rcdru8pyHDpimhumnV5scy4VNs2iTuOPGelWul1ZP2bYecJFuCYkgT-1DFKIHB-sVUtbg6k_VmefxaTFA0WmIT-nbcEDn8LaIMXOADDcHc/s1600/cookie+dough.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaSoAdHKZeHjf1UQyLFAebpEHRrpPlZwEM_rcdru8pyHDpimhumnV5scy4VNs2iTuOPGelWul1ZP2bYecJFuCYkgT-1DFKIHB-sVUtbg6k_VmefxaTFA0WmIT-nbcEDn8LaIMXOADDcHc/s320/cookie+dough.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">chocolate chip cookie dough: post marathon win</td></tr>
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Or a lemon-basil martini the next. I recommend all of the above :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6kDnmXSJ99sC56yVARAd-scKA9Nc9N8hivZx9kv61P8eNTCkdZ_Op8_svnxWxO-tVfyJsYVUxnyn10NXEbFC4UeWM9IUYCQyU5O1LhIo0hLYK6pyHEJPyestAzXp31z96wgEnPGV5CUPR/s1600/lemon+basil+martini.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6kDnmXSJ99sC56yVARAd-scKA9Nc9N8hivZx9kv61P8eNTCkdZ_Op8_svnxWxO-tVfyJsYVUxnyn10NXEbFC4UeWM9IUYCQyU5O1LhIo0hLYK6pyHEJPyestAzXp31z96wgEnPGV5CUPR/s320/lemon+basil+martini.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-57787909048350378632013-01-05T23:14:00.000-07:002013-01-05T23:14:16.604-07:00... and then I was down 60 pounds!I don't know about you, but Christmas and then New Year's Eve and then 2013 totally surprised me. Not in a bad way, but they flew by in a blur. I mean a real live, honest-to-goodness blur. Like I can't believe today is the 5th. Like I thought it was just (American) Thanksgiving. Like did we really go to Vermont and back and it's already 2013? And most of all, like I thought I weighed somewhere around 196 and then today when I got on the scale, I was already down to 190. OHMYWORD, I HAVE LOST SIXTY POUNDS!<br />
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Phew. I gotta catch my breath.<br />
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And so, as is my custom, here is the latest 10-pound pic, along with its predecessors. Even after having a ton of food on New Year's Eve, I hit -60 on January 5. I'm as shocked as you are.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsahJyMxPDfqcsBW-kEdylgbaFkwldzB9kxAdDIp7vr7JTWlxaEuTO54cnGqNP2j_KVD7lRA7Pwf7dt-EkMg1g2ZEz3aCAXWRQlDGI7xOUxTTpM95GBMUBRjU5Jo6SJlQKO8zpWq-bGS2/s1600/60+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsahJyMxPDfqcsBW-kEdylgbaFkwldzB9kxAdDIp7vr7JTWlxaEuTO54cnGqNP2j_KVD7lRA7Pwf7dt-EkMg1g2ZEz3aCAXWRQlDGI7xOUxTTpM95GBMUBRjU5Jo6SJlQKO8zpWq-bGS2/s320/60+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-60</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfDHlj3r6iporYhMwXNJOpJS3O0Il7V1zJNsmsTLDApnb_4KtERJWDm_APXZXseBRpNYKbmRa0nrrSXLEd1lxUBKyhmruYb_4Gdhi0gpEY3Ct4IOQP36AJM-bCmBA-a5SODBg8Bm0h85J/s1600/40+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfDHlj3r6iporYhMwXNJOpJS3O0Il7V1zJNsmsTLDApnb_4KtERJWDm_APXZXseBRpNYKbmRa0nrrSXLEd1lxUBKyhmruYb_4Gdhi0gpEY3Ct4IOQP36AJM-bCmBA-a5SODBg8Bm0h85J/s320/40+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-40</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGV5ROq_CyCV2KtdzZVq0Goh2WmJTrMm757HdcanMq2fLQxJ8IZYwESoSSF0rq2lF-MT4kA9GIqVJSRORLs63MhMO_1mCZPFVpI233p1pD-cZG-09YYGL_B8aSG6kv9VrEygDRtKrXnkv/s1600/50+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGV5ROq_CyCV2KtdzZVq0Goh2WmJTrMm757HdcanMq2fLQxJ8IZYwESoSSF0rq2lF-MT4kA9GIqVJSRORLs63MhMO_1mCZPFVpI233p1pD-cZG-09YYGL_B8aSG6kv9VrEygDRtKrXnkv/s320/50+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-50</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WqqTdn6Mck-M8oNkwuPhHb_TKQVAcX1xi1RsMLXo6y12lbwIsjEdBo07EQ8rvuO10eSKGUHT1wppk4JkxNUsiGWMOAmYHYaigfNlh75900LDjsLxT9u9jYMll6xjlysmTDv8ZM3CO3eh/s1600/30+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WqqTdn6Mck-M8oNkwuPhHb_TKQVAcX1xi1RsMLXo6y12lbwIsjEdBo07EQ8rvuO10eSKGUHT1wppk4JkxNUsiGWMOAmYHYaigfNlh75900LDjsLxT9u9jYMll6xjlysmTDv8ZM3CO3eh/s320/30+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-30</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcVue1djOnVQqNiXT1z7PbhnA3nB75D2UBxmzsb_y3MUNyM_ELDx2TXbQNmZLZwi5p9WdSk16YgG1WjPyWPx-hbUpo2C-Z6oVXJEZ5KZWPCTTGsjrn25HrHNZt0315LKduA4JrX7_banCU/s1600/230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcVue1djOnVQqNiXT1z7PbhnA3nB75D2UBxmzsb_y3MUNyM_ELDx2TXbQNmZLZwi5p9WdSk16YgG1WjPyWPx-hbUpo2C-Z6oVXJEZ5KZWPCTTGsjrn25HrHNZt0315LKduA4JrX7_banCU/s320/230.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-20</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiblMdv895YrSzp51h_YxCDzGujFeZkGfzahmLBDVKDUD16q4sOvs6megw9JrbPSOc_WDfe3z10ScZAioQkTUjX8BfMdQrYFQe4e4ix3C_qAU1HRGFZ4o84f6O9l-vAXjIkHK050wbs0eT/s1600/239.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_OxUDXDrir_wE1tj4_y8G5V_6jqLKVohWSQYCzZjBFwcRu2sTcC3bJqrzbXCV6fQdgq1Sx97SjkLqwzx_KNU0pITvk8iMSMxbsfBp5Y6uoeSu9nZUKKQTvB86szvbV8P00fb_KiV8XKW/s1600/250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_OxUDXDrir_wE1tj4_y8G5V_6jqLKVohWSQYCzZjBFwcRu2sTcC3bJqrzbXCV6fQdgq1Sx97SjkLqwzx_KNU0pITvk8iMSMxbsfBp5Y6uoeSu9nZUKKQTvB86szvbV8P00fb_KiV8XKW/s320/250.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approx 250 lbs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpnzenIB7r87N85nAiFIlG02odqYMPXmiSX6hWVBXowCS_jcWD59tKCDnkTA67hSFCEY95cOmZe5soKlYFnkEmnWLzD5_I6pCcno06JR3gbxmvijzEnqc3HDps-yV81jYlgqZorzd8ITY/s1600/10+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpnzenIB7r87N85nAiFIlG02odqYMPXmiSX6hWVBXowCS_jcWD59tKCDnkTA67hSFCEY95cOmZe5soKlYFnkEmnWLzD5_I6pCcno06JR3gbxmvijzEnqc3HDps-yV81jYlgqZorzd8ITY/s320/10+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-10</td></tr>
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<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-36945241963139090862012-12-23T14:58:00.000-07:002012-12-23T14:58:17.964-07:00Just a shortie ...I have been composing an epic half-marathon post in my head since Thanksgiving, and I really am planning on recapping it, but today is not that day. Tomorrow probably won't be it either.<br />
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Instead I want to just drop a note, if you will, about 2 things that surprised and delighted me yesterday and today.<br />
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People who live in urban environments won't think much of the first thing, but it's a big deal for a (mostly former) fat girl who lives in the suburbs. I had a very long list of errands to run yesterday, and of course started them later than I intended. Basically, I'd waited until the last possible moment (not technically, but ...) to finish my Christmas shopping and take care of some things for the house, too. So it's dark and the hubs is working, and I'm annoyed with myself for waiting so long, and I realize I can run about 4 of my errands from one central parking space. Is that really possible? Park at one store and hit 4? Why yes, yes it was. And although it was dark out, it wasn't too cold, so I actually enjoyed walking from one store to another (in opposite directions, even!). AND ... because I'd chosen to walk, I was able to stop and take a picture of three women together (they were taking turns taking pics with just two of them in it) and count that as one of my #26acts! (Click <a href="http://instagram.com/p/TbWA15izG8/">here</a> if you don't know what that is) And then I moved the car and did the same thing all over again! I realize if I lived in New York or Zurich, I'd have walked for all my errands, but completing tons of stops with only two parking spots was for me a very big deal. I think I walked an extra 20 or more minutes yesterday because of it! Bonus: no road rage, wasted gas, fighting for parking spots, either.<br />
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Thing 2: the hubs got up REALLY early this morning and it was pretty windy, so I got up too (that's not the thing). I decided I'd go to the gym and be amazing. Or at least, accomplish a workout. So I got ready and went. Sidenote: my gym doesn't open until 7:00 on Sundays.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwc_AXhun33JR6tgTQjHXFxa0V88PeEN0l8YwjpNrNJ1v9n1OmuxsU87OdOkzUqf5JDZgJ3nLNgyYmJeRzyY_4ossdT9UeXTbpKlkHQIUgkLDqThfEJ-_fM6-jO23-IpZ1pzVLNRYxoI4V/s1600/PF+not+open.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwc_AXhun33JR6tgTQjHXFxa0V88PeEN0l8YwjpNrNJ1v9n1OmuxsU87OdOkzUqf5JDZgJ3nLNgyYmJeRzyY_4ossdT9UeXTbpKlkHQIUgkLDqThfEJ-_fM6-jO23-IpZ1pzVLNRYxoI4V/s320/PF+not+open.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Anyway, I got on the elliptical trainer (once the doors were open) and got to work. I'd been on about 15 minutes when I realized something that almost blew my mind. #1, I found out when the "chubby girls" go to the gym -- they go at the crack of dawn! I'm guessing so they can hide. But #2 is this. I WAS THE SMALLEST GIRL IN THE GYM!<br />
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Never in my life, even when I was working out 5 days a week before I got married (not to fit into a dress, but because my fiancee lived in Chicago and I was in Denver) have I been the smallest girl in the gym. And it only lasted for about a half hour before a stick came in, but still. That was a shocking, amazing, mind-blowing thing.<br />
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I realize that there isn't really anything deep about this entry in and of itself, but these are milestones in my life. I'm not the girl who would look at extra walking as enjoyable and/or fun in any way. And I'm certainly not the "small girl" at the gym. Well, I'm not anyway, but you know what I'm saying.<br />
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I'll be back on the blogging bandwagon shortly, folks. Thanks for reading. And happy holidays, from my house to yours.Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-81132127583651441372012-11-24T20:20:00.001-07:002012-11-29T07:26:46.258-07:00'twas the night before the marathonI've never posted from my phone before, so this is a test :)<br />
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First, I want to report that even the very last row of the plane was -mostly- comfortable at -50 lbs! (That will be pic #1 if the phone lets me post it)<br />
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Second, we have our (wicking) shirts for the race, AND IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE SUNNY...ish. So yay! Because I've been training in sunny Colorado and was frankly concerned about cold rain. (And that will be pic #2)<br />
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So tonight we carb-loaded on tortellini (for my family's entertainment: tortellini! That's great; I'm excited!), go to bed, and hopefully fall immediately to sleep. And tomorrow we walk/run.<br />
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And Gramma and the little boys made signs to cheer us on :) <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaqjEadRyanxVsohtrZ3ksFTZqpeOtdQDqRwfDjBzmMskipWkC6Aa_-eTgZH8-Tu6wxe6-3BmhBKV8i1t73VDj2kPqFCHK0JD1l1z9V81q3k-zzMPXi77csf0U7yEmWQx_FUT6cf-P31Re/s640/blogger-image--137604609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaqjEadRyanxVsohtrZ3ksFTZqpeOtdQDqRwfDjBzmMskipWkC6Aa_-eTgZH8-Tu6wxe6-3BmhBKV8i1t73VDj2kPqFCHK0JD1l1z9V81q3k-zzMPXi77csf0U7yEmWQx_FUT6cf-P31Re/s400/blogger-image--137604609.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkh0ZE0rdmWL6J5-MPAd7KqVKXVkLnD7p1FeHM8Rgm_uqyM252eJpBinhOLMHTLrj8H_D-u7SBoO1ZW_U3cdBwOmtGE0ixH5Kb56Z6qwqEiKGLdfD5ggjy1rbpFtq58bk90mclDRC1Cih/s640/blogger-image-190737050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijkh0ZE0rdmWL6J5-MPAd7KqVKXVkLnD7p1FeHM8Rgm_uqyM252eJpBinhOLMHTLrj8H_D-u7SBoO1ZW_U3cdBwOmtGE0ixH5Kb56Z6qwqEiKGLdfD5ggjy1rbpFtq58bk90mclDRC1Cih/s640/blogger-image-190737050.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnw3z9Jf3I7aibzo0aB8zjLuJ-OOJ02oLZaiLkIpNMyDkxctlmoY1HohF-Hm2Ve4ZAq6MTX5B2SoGQoWgBydux6E-5CwybKI5ssHoP6md9vNMmEEtaLCiXAIM6KHQqXOmUZlhvjWCuL_H/s640/blogger-image--452068657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnw3z9Jf3I7aibzo0aB8zjLuJ-OOJ02oLZaiLkIpNMyDkxctlmoY1HohF-Hm2Ve4ZAq6MTX5B2SoGQoWgBydux6E-5CwybKI5ssHoP6md9vNMmEEtaLCiXAIM6KHQqXOmUZlhvjWCuL_H/s400/blogger-image--452068657.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-66951294347982766472012-11-21T11:31:00.001-07:002012-11-21T11:31:01.625-07:00Flying fatHere's what I'm thinking about today, as I prepare to go to Seattle for the Half Marathon:<br />
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THE LAST TIME I FLEW ON A PLANE, I WEIGHED 50 POUNDS MORE!</div>
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Followed quickly by my second thought: <i>what if I'm still too big for the airplane seat?</i><br />
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Ugh. Why is that even in my head? Well, it is. I flew for work for several years (sometimes as much as 3 out of 4 weeks a month), and have always done plenty of flying outside of work as well. However, after my layoff in 2010, I just really haven't done much flying. When I DO fly lately, here's what I think about:<br />
<ul>
<li>If I get an exit row seat, then the arm rest is immobile and I can just squish into the space between the armrests.</li>
<li>If I have a regular seat, the armrest moves up to accommodate my fat and I spend the entire flight pushing it back down and smiling apologetically at the person next to me.</li>
<li>And of course, the biggest fear of all: will THIS finally be the flight that I have to ask for a seat belt extender?</li>
<li>If I at least had short legs, I could take up less room that way, but the fact is that I have long legs AND big hips, so basically, airplanes don't like me.</li>
</ul>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99JomjS2_B18CIkWTSPU0bLKApzwnL8b8f9tb6aTcuBrPkjrUsvL_JLNsIPBEyQrKcJAXzWhCR0GWcJZRPFgK6DaMULxn3FAQ9Y_FgynrjkcemheX1dwc3Ec3MeLK16OfWMFhDtc0pYMQ/s1600/lastflightNYC.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99JomjS2_B18CIkWTSPU0bLKApzwnL8b8f9tb6aTcuBrPkjrUsvL_JLNsIPBEyQrKcJAXzWhCR0GWcJZRPFgK6DaMULxn3FAQ9Y_FgynrjkcemheX1dwc3Ec3MeLK16OfWMFhDtc0pYMQ/s320/lastflightNYC.JPG" width="320" /></a>Tomorrow morning, I shall once again board a United Airlines plane ... for the first time since May 1, and ... well ... I hope that there's a noticeable difference in the seating! Here are two pictures from that last trip - it was a very fun girls' week in NYC that had been planned for a while and then serendipitously fell right after being in Alabama to say goodbye to my grandmother. That trip was just what I needed, but man, did I have a hard time keeping up with my younger, skinnier friends! Here we are having our picture taken by a jogger who couldn't believe we were trying to take this shot ourselves. He was all, "give me that camera, you dumb girls" in a nice and blustery nooyorky kind of way. The other shot is us at Serendipity, a place known for its frozen hot chocolate and monstrous desserts -- don't bother going for the regular food. What's funny about these two pictures is that although I'm clearly bigger here, there were LOTS of shots of me looking much bigger, but I deleted most of them. LOL Who knew I'd actually want a "huge" shot to show improvement later? I just wanted to be rid of those ones I thought made me look extra big! Oh, the irony of deleting a picture that is a true visual representation ...<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxm2FUak_Q4OhKBKTIEdbzeUYMZn-b5D-KGgEQA3lCE7HkZQoA1iuglKr8KIDk1YL3lKjMISUVBC3b7h8TjsXkcCffIPlLh9ROYdPT1koICU-A4qc1PdTJoEAs5caPleIBb_LuauGVyhyphenhyphen/s1600/SerendipityNYC.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxm2FUak_Q4OhKBKTIEdbzeUYMZn-b5D-KGgEQA3lCE7HkZQoA1iuglKr8KIDk1YL3lKjMISUVBC3b7h8TjsXkcCffIPlLh9ROYdPT1koICU-A4qc1PdTJoEAs5caPleIBb_LuauGVyhyphenhyphen/s320/SerendipityNYC.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Other than the plane trip, here is what I'm looking forward to:<br />
<ul>
<li>Seeing my sister and her family (4 crazy boys!)</li>
<li>Seeing my oldest niece, who is flying in from Chicago</li>
<li>Walking the half marathon with <a href="http://mymonthlyhabit.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sharon</a> </li>
<li>Cheering on my sis, her oldest, and my niece as they run the half marathon</li>
<li>Pedicures on Monday</li>
</ul>
The weather in Seattle this weekend? I'm not so much looking forward to. In fact, we might make better time in a boat. Either way, I'm going to do a Half Marathon on Sunday and earn that "13.1" sticker!<br />
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Oh, and here's something great: I prepared (American) Thanksgiving dinner last night because the hubs wanted some leftovers while I'm gone. And I didn't even gain wait overnight!Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-33766613449653785622012-11-17T13:45:00.000-07:002012-11-17T13:45:30.351-07:00My most ridiculous (first world) problem yet!Regular readers know about my whole "non-milestone milestones" concept. It's basically just the idea of <i>Things that don't fall into the category of round numbers and Big Signs</i>. I.e., Lost 20 pounds! Changed a clothing size! Hit my wedding weight! Those things are all legitimate milestones, right? So how do you categorize things like "switched to a new row of hooks on my bra"? Well, you call it a non-milestone milestone, is what you do. <br />
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So, you know about the non-milestone milestones concept, and you should also know that I've said many times that I realize these "problems" I've come across due to weight loss are truly first world problems. But this week I sunk to a new low. I am now complaining about my sleeves. Yes, sleeves. I am an embarrassment to society.<br />
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I have several tops -- sweaters, sweatshirts, long sleeved t-shirts ... whatever -- that actually still fit. Or fit now and didn't before, or just look way better now than they ever did before. So what am I complaining about? It took me several days in a row of pushing up my falling-down sleeves during dinner prep to figure it out. Either my arms have actually gotten smaller or these shirts just have big cuffs. Or something. Because when I push my sleeves up on these shirts, they don't stay "up"! Which is kind of a pain when you're washing dishes or stirring chili, or even if you're just warm and want a little less fabric covering your forearms. If you'd asked me 6 months ago, I'd have said my forearms didn't really carry any fat. My wrists looked the same to me as they always had, and I wouldn't have thought there was extra weight there. I was wrong. And now most of my sleeves are falling down :) I even have an elastic bracelet that fits differently. And by "fits", I mean "doesn't cut off my circulation when I wear it". So yeah, I've lost weight in my forearms.<br />
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Lest it sound like all I do is complain, I do have a happy non-milestone milestone to say "Yay!" about: Boots! Last year (and honestly, for the 2 or 3 years before that) I attempted to get a cute pair of boots to wear. I was pinning them on Pinterest, I was ordering them from Zappos (free shipping on returns!), and none of them fit. I can't even tell you how many pair of boots I ordered -- maybe 15? 20? All labelled "wide calf", and almost none of them fit. The few that did actually zip looked awful. I decided last year, sadly, that I was actually too fat to wear cute boots. Which was sad in and of itself because let's face it; the last bastion of cute things for fat girls is shoes.<br />
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"<span class="st">Clothes never look any good... food just makes me fatter... <i>shoes always fit</i>.</span>"</div>
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Jennifer Weiner</div>
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<i>In Her Shoes</i></div>
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But THIS year, I thought I'd try again. Why not? I'm not my parents' most stubborn child for nothing! So I ordered another 5 pair -- still staying in the "wide calf" genre -- and ... THEY ALL FIT!!!!! I'm serious! Every single pair fit me! After picking myself off the floor and sending pics of them to my fashion squad via group text, I selected some to keep. So maybe it's not a big round number (like "I'm down 50 pounds!"), but wearing cute boots was one of my fashion heart's desires, and now I can.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EavXUetxg3Mzw3sldr8WG2K_RmtMBUyDImNWcHkJ1ro7JB4MR8lYQyWuVrcY8ytgCwSfIKR80Akjq-17SPDWxFcXer4jLVCW91aD50CNNkRm7ppJq6WZ1tuWZa6ZUeMD_MPlJQZZ8S1f/s1600/skinny+jeans+boots.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EavXUetxg3Mzw3sldr8WG2K_RmtMBUyDImNWcHkJ1ro7JB4MR8lYQyWuVrcY8ytgCwSfIKR80Akjq-17SPDWxFcXer4jLVCW91aD50CNNkRm7ppJq6WZ1tuWZa6ZUeMD_MPlJQZZ8S1f/s320/skinny+jeans+boots.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those sleeves totally fell down after this pic</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Qtsypxk9PPzTpg9f9lMgG0yeecefGqIqf3sKCelWq_jrh8GMSCJ7nXtU4h6MG5Y8_VBcimHDjHnSLWEqatvllxgpTkZO5XmqC8rIZDsKT_owmgur5ytyrftFjzyL8gUBBDA9VdZE3An9/s1600/Bon+summer+85_87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Qtsypxk9PPzTpg9f9lMgG0yeecefGqIqf3sKCelWq_jrh8GMSCJ7nXtU4h6MG5Y8_VBcimHDjHnSLWEqatvllxgpTkZO5XmqC8rIZDsKT_owmgur5ytyrftFjzyL8gUBBDA9VdZE3An9/s320/Bon+summer+85_87.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm on the left. It's OK to laugh :)</td></tr>
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So here's a pic of me in said boots, AND a bonus pic from the summer of 1985 or 1986. Why? Because I'm wearing "skinny jeans" with my new boots, and the other pic is the last time I wore "skinny jeans". Except we only called them "jeans" then (sometimes peg-leg pants).</div>
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<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-64867910699036552382012-11-13T17:26:00.001-07:002012-11-13T17:26:59.624-07:00Here's some math for you: 250 - 50 = 200<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So I woke up this morning and ...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFardgpANraAjY2LkDDCq5bMVrHBZjo1VgR30ucD4oPR6ls0UI7d0o9fUIKSkePFHehFfULzPsWE6FXHxfYd4Y1dlZHwQRvpsVfbSQyljFmcX37DyHNn_muTOfp3IYvi8vfxAauM8NLTE/s1600/200b.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFardgpANraAjY2LkDDCq5bMVrHBZjo1VgR30ucD4oPR6ls0UI7d0o9fUIKSkePFHehFfULzPsWE6FXHxfYd4Y1dlZHwQRvpsVfbSQyljFmcX37DyHNn_muTOfp3IYvi8vfxAauM8NLTE/s200/200b.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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I WAS DOWN FIFTY POUNDS!! I wish I could remember when I last weighed 200, but I can't. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I do know this: it's time for another series of pics. I'm so glad my sis said to take a picture every 10 pounds (you should too, if you're losing as well!)! I wouldn't have thought of that and ... I'd have been disappointed if I'd gotten to today without these. (I'd already decided not to measure body parts, and now I kinda wish I had. Oh well.)</div>
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So without further ado (and not "adieu", as some are wont to post on the intertubes), here are my "decade" pics:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9Pua3-9hyJX9Q-v3U3Z2SgTqMofgX8l812oCVzZ_g_g-8x9IzOar2ra_js-EqIG9sLnqiB6CwCMJ-Ofg-fWCbm6cXIqwmW_cH3DZr-5EMEg9uo4NLTXYZViHJoeFwKh_7kxmuMcal6TM/s1600/200pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9Pua3-9hyJX9Q-v3U3Z2SgTqMofgX8l812oCVzZ_g_g-8x9IzOar2ra_js-EqIG9sLnqiB6CwCMJ-Ofg-fWCbm6cXIqwmW_cH3DZr-5EMEg9uo4NLTXYZViHJoeFwKh_7kxmuMcal6TM/s320/200pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-50!!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLGDIoFnWw-V5rmuAzYYugfWOie_7EvydUXKZxyvYw8hyphenhyphenOI5f85zRoSY_VvAZC1c9xtsbyPweUJkwjZJ41A3D8-As943CnEh3A-UUi51Qc-Zq4Nlq-4x0neO5ZnlU4K7bajCQd_Cg4cpO/s1600/40+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLGDIoFnWw-V5rmuAzYYugfWOie_7EvydUXKZxyvYw8hyphenhyphenOI5f85zRoSY_VvAZC1c9xtsbyPweUJkwjZJ41A3D8-As943CnEh3A-UUi51Qc-Zq4Nlq-4x0neO5ZnlU4K7bajCQd_Cg4cpO/s320/40+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-40</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9Pua3-9hyJX9Q-v3U3Z2SgTqMofgX8l812oCVzZ_g_g-8x9IzOar2ra_js-EqIG9sLnqiB6CwCMJ-Ofg-fWCbm6cXIqwmW_cH3DZr-5EMEg9uo4NLTXYZViHJoeFwKh_7kxmuMcal6TM/s1600/200pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65RkPnbyik-LMFBW22my0uGu2HT6hYKr0TPBbup8GcQ6MHNt9PfzpRQ0-G2aOp2zGYnAthQMKpgfiL7EnUzNqSIaqxJPx25lppAWxmHZlKHhZwJabREQf638TSfxPlgIwOnAXuJEnbbKU/s1600/230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65RkPnbyik-LMFBW22my0uGu2HT6hYKr0TPBbup8GcQ6MHNt9PfzpRQ0-G2aOp2zGYnAthQMKpgfiL7EnUzNqSIaqxJPx25lppAWxmHZlKHhZwJabREQf638TSfxPlgIwOnAXuJEnbbKU/s320/230.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-20</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPlS-ThT4itX9LXmm2DcWQgMt51OUSKHlM-nRTczultovABSD74sDCrAYicKNHhV8nAWL4dWU6NT9HCB7yyiHqngkzmaW7uRCDHmgy1SOdMMl6-gRc4eWV2cxoMJcDYf7w47NC9ZMN_WMK/s1600/30+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPlS-ThT4itX9LXmm2DcWQgMt51OUSKHlM-nRTczultovABSD74sDCrAYicKNHhV8nAWL4dWU6NT9HCB7yyiHqngkzmaW7uRCDHmgy1SOdMMl6-gRc4eWV2cxoMJcDYf7w47NC9ZMN_WMK/s320/30+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-30</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpnzenIB7r87N85nAiFIlG02odqYMPXmiSX6hWVBXowCS_jcWD59tKCDnkTA67hSFCEY95cOmZe5soKlYFnkEmnWLzD5_I6pCcno06JR3gbxmvijzEnqc3HDps-yV81jYlgqZorzd8ITY/s1600/10+pound+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpnzenIB7r87N85nAiFIlG02odqYMPXmiSX6hWVBXowCS_jcWD59tKCDnkTA67hSFCEY95cOmZe5soKlYFnkEmnWLzD5_I6pCcno06JR3gbxmvijzEnqc3HDps-yV81jYlgqZorzd8ITY/s320/10+pound+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-10</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpqmeDb2pNnTv18dCH2jpsXkEbePrtclTvjP5MdyXhinHP-_ccXR9rylpf_retSnjGYeWrAfkHsq6rAgPSopXJ20s5W-czwK5uv-qUiu_2eFYMXS0jt3qw69A_UZbaN4ZyN-tAPJaU-_G/s1600/250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpqmeDb2pNnTv18dCH2jpsXkEbePrtclTvjP5MdyXhinHP-_ccXR9rylpf_retSnjGYeWrAfkHsq6rAgPSopXJ20s5W-czwK5uv-qUiu_2eFYMXS0jt3qw69A_UZbaN4ZyN-tAPJaU-_G/s320/250.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approx 250 lbs</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrqsdvGk8Ws-M0eJr8zn0BV3yzvOYc0UQV5lClyBC3pEYMyYp1FBQNriL7gk-dTPbUPHn9MPIxd00Fe5J8z4sEBckFWzooA9uVM71yApCVvv4M7-faQIdsGpyiRc0nqbR5Lfnh2Pnrl2M/s1600/200d.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrqsdvGk8Ws-M0eJr8zn0BV3yzvOYc0UQV5lClyBC3pEYMyYp1FBQNriL7gk-dTPbUPHn9MPIxd00Fe5J8z4sEBckFWzooA9uVM71yApCVvv4M7-faQIdsGpyiRc0nqbR5Lfnh2Pnrl2M/s320/200d.PNG" width="213" /></a></div>
There aren't really words for how I felt when I saw that 200! It's surprisingly motivational. It was super windy this morning, so I didn't think I could walk outside. Guess what? I was even willing -- almost looking forward to -- walking on the treadmill at the gym! My sister's thoughts on that: "OK that's a little whacked ...."<br />
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Anyway, there are some people who think walking isn't good exercise. Heck, there are people who think walking isn't even exercise! Let me be the first to tell you: IT IS! And it is making me feel great! I feel healthier and more calm than I have in years. Honestly. Do not take it lightly. If you've been looking for something to do or try, I sincerely recommend walking. Really!<br />
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And now I'll leave you to contemplate my excessive exclamation point usage.<br />
<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-4236339391365832332012-11-07T09:20:00.000-07:002012-11-07T09:20:47.309-07:00That was then, this is nowHere's the blog entry version of a "picture book". Basically, just a post of some comparison pics -- that "thousand words" thing and all :)<br />
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For Halloween of 2010, we went to a costume party, and then recreated our looks (me with a different top) to give out candy on the actual day (w/ local bro & SIL) <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween, 2010</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBspro4YIGJd5GMXiJ9viElmyDEJwpbciajSyuzsBE09xB5jJFiolsGFKlLqPStlpgbTBnyx1JtFk2vsE0k7vN6RsoYrczbcBItoCzA5TVwbCnpfn9WpXTdTIw8gJJEkLKqx-SFctcqU3t/s1600/pirate2+2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBspro4YIGJd5GMXiJ9viElmyDEJwpbciajSyuzsBE09xB5jJFiolsGFKlLqPStlpgbTBnyx1JtFk2vsE0k7vN6RsoYrczbcBItoCzA5TVwbCnpfn9WpXTdTIw8gJJEkLKqx-SFctcqU3t/s320/pirate2+2012.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween, 2012</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNaBewEeOnajzCWF0KP4zr9LyarDsxsmcPdv_farQZNtQky8Af1rjaMX2Tb4Ep91VZvFmsoriPPAsSAoamx3kCkWDLkGIXuPFb81W9ENdkjlMXotDBopne8RQ9rqam9M2p2kDL65N8z4s/s1600/Halloween+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNaBewEeOnajzCWF0KP4zr9LyarDsxsmcPdv_farQZNtQky8Af1rjaMX2Tb4Ep91VZvFmsoriPPAsSAoamx3kCkWDLkGIXuPFb81W9ENdkjlMXotDBopne8RQ9rqam9M2p2kDL65N8z4s/s320/Halloween+2010.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2010</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2012</td></tr>
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In case you can't tell, I'm trying to hide behind the hubs in that pic from 2010. Not very successful. And geez, baby got back!<br />
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Pretty happy with my DIY costume this year - this is a huge tunic top I haven't ever been able to button, and a pair of leggings I would never have gone out in in public a year ago!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Election Day, 20</td></tr>
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And here I am performing my civic duty:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Election Day, 2008</td></tr>
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Oh, and this year? I walked to and from my polling place :) <br />
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<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681436497096301350.post-10785279904385898382012-11-06T10:47:00.000-07:002012-11-06T10:47:07.270-07:00Plus-sized models, lattes and staircases. Oh my?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Remember when I wrote my <a href="http://thegirlwhocriedskinny.blogspot.com/2012/08/hey-big-girl-stores-its-not-you-its-me.html" target="_blank">Dear John letter to big girl stores</a>? Well, even though I wrote it, I'm still getting mailers (no surprise). A couple nights ago, the hubs picked up the mail and this card was in it. He commented that at one time, I actually looked a bit like this girl, and it occurred to him that for one thing, I didn't anymore, and for another, I probably couldn't even shop at Lane Bryant any more. I grinned and told him about my Dear John letter :)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a couple years and about 50 pounds ago</td></tr>
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And then there's this. It's something I realized this week. My attitude toward food/fuel/intake is changing. Slowly, like The Titanic attempting to execute a tight turn ... but still; it's changing. Maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal to you, but it is to me. There was only about a quarter of a cup left in the bottom of my latte mug and it was cold. So I threw it out. Keep in mind it wasn't a $5 drink I had paid for; it was a latte I had made in my own kitchen (yeah, yeah, I know I paid for it, but you know). I guess my thinking was that I've had enough caffeine from it, I'm not hungry, and it doesn't actually taste good once it's cold, so ... why keep drinking those calories? I don't need 'em. And this wasn't the first time! I bet I've changed "1 latte" to "3/4 serving" in loseit.com about 10 times in the last 2 months. That's a lot of saved calories! I know -- this isn't a big thing, really. But in terms of all the times in my life I've finished a plate or a bowl or a something of something, just because it was in front of me? It's a big thing :) (I included the pic because it occurred to me I make really big lattes and this "small thing" might seem even smaller if you were picturing a smaller drink)<br />
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And here's another non-milestone milestone: I used to knock myself out to <i>stay</i> upstairs or downstairs. That is, when I left the upstairs, I'd carry everything with me I could think of that I'd need when I was on the main level. And vice versa -- if I went upstairs, I wanted to be <i>done</i> downstairs. Not have to run back down for something I forgot or didn't need once I got up there, regardless of what I'd planned in advance. To spell it out: I avoided the staircase like the plague. It put me out of breath, it hurt my knees, it kind of hurt my back, and if I forgot something once I got up or down it; tough. I'd just get that thing later or take care of it when I went back up or down for something bigger. Yes, that's how out of shape I was - I avoided my own staircase. Really. Guess what? Now it doesn't bother me at all. I can run up or down it as much as I like or need to. And if I forget something? I view it as extra calories burned! In a good way (not like "I don't have to work out because I went up one flight of stairs)! If I get downstairs and realize I left something upstairs, I just run right back up and get it!<br />
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And you know what? I had thought (but not mentioned to the hubs at all) about 3 or 4 years ago that we probably couldn't live in this house much longer based on the way my knees felt. Yeah, right. You see what I was thinking? Let's get a ranch-style house because I'm too fat to take the stairs. Let's move everything because I'm fat. Let's leave a neighborhood we like and a fabulous view of the foothills because I'm fat. I know some people don't like that word, but I use it to make a point. And really? I don't want to do any of those things <i>because I'm overweight</i>. I only want to do those things when we're ready to buy a new house ... for whatever is the right reason at that time. But certainly not because the stairs make my knees hurt. Because frankly it was never the stairs making my knees hurt ...<br />
<br />Anthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07996845496259615793noreply@blogger.com2