Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Tales from the Dark Side

I've been on a little social media break. Truthfully, I still am, and I will be for the foreseeable future. Through the miracle of Blogger I can share this to Facebook without actually having to go on Facebook. I don't know if blogging counts as social media, I guess I look at it more as an online diary of sorts. To quote Mike Birbiglia it's a "Secret Public Journal".

I saw Kirk the Nutrition Guy today. I'm 8 weeks into a 12ish week program at this point. Last time I was in to see him I got my checkboxes bumped up to approximate a 2400 cal/day diet. When I went in today, my numbers were once again unbelievable. I swear this shit is witchcraft. It seems impossible. So what did I hear today? I was down another 2 pounds. Seriously. WTF. 1.4 pounds of that was fat. Whoa. I've been consciously drinking enough water to make me feel ill, so my total body water was up and my hydration status was A-OK, so the weight loss was legit...not dehydration. My ultimate goal in all this was to increase performance, with a secondary goal of fat loss. I'd like my body fat percentage to be 20ish percent. As of today, it is 22%. That makes me feel fucking amazing. My waist has dropped to 29.25" as well. And that is after drinking like 2 liters of water before going to my appointment. 5 years ago when I first started CrossFit, I weighed about 5 pounds more than I do right now and was close to 32% body fat. I wore a size 12 jeans on a good day (in spite of only weighing around 160 pounds) and my waist was 33ish inches. Yesterday? Yesterday I bought a pair of size 4 jeans. I'll grant you that they were stretchy, but still a FOUR. 

Pardon my silly hair. I got a Tyme iron and may
have gone a bit nuts with it.

Seriously, I know the hair is crazy.

They're tight as shit, but I don't think they look half bad. And truthfully stretchy jeans need to be tight as shit when you first put them on or you look like you're wearing a bag 2 hours later.

I also took myself over to Victoria's Secret to be measured for a bra. I spend so much time in sports bras that I sort of forget about regular bras. Lately all my sports bras fit funny, and since I purchased several pricey ones fairly recently I was a little pissy about it. The bra I'm wearing in the photo above is a 38D, which is what I've worn for ages. Imagine my surprise when I measured at a 34DD yesterday. I put on the new bra and I'm telling you, that thing was a revelation. So of course I dropped a shitload of money on new bras. You know what the best thing about *ahem* enhancement is? When you lose weight your tits look bigger. HA. Oh, PS I had plastic surgery 5 years ago if you didn't know (I'm fairly certain everyone already does-it's not like I kept it a secret). I think I found a home for all my barely used 38Ds, which makes me insanely happy. Moving Comfort Junos should not be wasted.

At my appointment I did a little questionnaire about stress and we discovered that I am a very low-stress individual. I'm a bit of a worrier (in that I am a compulsive contingency planner) but in general my life carries infinitely less stress than the average bear's. A score of 35 or below on the scale is considered "normal". I got a 9. Apparently I am super chill. The hospital job has a ton to do with that. I bet if I'd taken that survey while working home care I would've been waaaaaaaay up on the charts. All the shitty stress coping strategies that Kirk mentioned to me were ones I'd employed daily during that phase of my life. I am so grateful to be back in a shift-work environment. Especially one that affords me so much autonomy. All I hear from people is "I don't know how you work that crazy schedule", but it has saved my life. 

We also talked about carb loading (how's that for a segue?) which is something I've never done. I got some pretty clear cut instructions on how to do it, and it makes sense as it was explained to me. Turns out donuts and pasta are NOT the appropriate way to go. Go figure. I was also instructed to take a trial run at it before a weekend long run so I'm not in uncharted waters when I get ready for the Cellcom. I'll try it out in April. 

I tried eating 4 eggs for breakfast a couple of weeks ago and it was painful. Two eggs it will stay, but I do appreciate the extra servings of protein throughout the day. I spend my extra grain serving indulging in toast in the morning. Today I had it with a little blueberry vanilla chevre.

That's snobbish for "goat cheese".

I've been front loading my day with vegetables. Spinach cooks down to nothing, so it's no big deal to toss 2 big handfuls into my eggs along with a big handful of sliced mushrooms. Since I'm not on a calorie leash I've also been snipping up a slice of bacon and rendering it in the pan before tossing in the veg. This breakfast is super filling, delicious, and gets me halfway to my goal veg before 8am. Big win. 

Lunch is usually fish when I'm at home, and I get a double portion now on 2400 calories. I like that.

Stock photo.

My snacks are usually peppers and hummus with cheese or berries and yogurt with seeds. Raspberries with greek yogurt and chia seeds has become a new comfort food for me. I eat it almost every day, and it makes me happy. What could be better than tasty food that makes you happy and leaves you 100% guilt free?

Yesterday I learned it's dandy pre-run fuel as well.

Last night fantastic husband made steaks on the grill. He made me a lovely tenderloin medium rare, and because I get extra protein I ate the whole damn thing.

Eat all the things, wear tiny jeans.

I guess you could say that I'm pretty fucking thrilled with how my Mom-bod is shaping up. Even if my cruddy little sons still ask me when I'm going to get "the rest" of my abs. There are 4 now, but that is clearly not enough. After years of gaining and losing and gaining and losing and gestating and birthing and nursing I'm left with plenty of cellulite and never-going-to-be-tight-again skin, but I don't do too badly for an old gal. I got myself a tattoo to celebrate my progress. A tattoo that can only be seen if I wear shorts. Last summer was the first time I said "fuck it" and began wearing shorts instead of capris or skirts. This summer I may wear nothing else. The world can look away if they don't like pasty white middle aged thighs. I'm tired of hiding.

Behold my leg.

I thought it turned out rather well. I've been toying lately with the idea of expanding the thorny vine on my lower spine into a root system for a tree of life up my back. That's probably years away, but the seed has been planted as it were.  On a semi-related note (as this is a Carl Sagan quote), another parent at daycare noticed the atheist symbol on my car and got very excited about it. He wanted to know where I'd gotten it, and said "I just had to ask-you don't see many of us around!" Us. It's so rare that someone just outs as an atheist. That's why I put the sticker on my car, and why I put this image on my body. I don't need to punch you in the face with my godlessness, but man it sure is good to know there are like-minded people out there. If identifying myself makes other people feel more at home, then I've achieved my objective. 

Now, the social media hiatus. I'm not sick, I'm not dead, I'm not mad at anyone or anything. I've been mostly offline since 3/4. I pop on and off to check messages since it's how my troop parents communicate with me and it's cookie season, but that's about it. I'm off IG, FB, Snapchat, Twitter, and Messenger for the time being. I'm working some things out for myself, and it's going well.  I'm knitting and reading (an actual paperback book) and watching Downton Abbey and going to all the places I usually go. Work, the box, the studio. I'm predictable. Happily, I feel almost like myself again. 

Tomorrow I'll be back at CF (missed today because of my morning appointment), hopefully a short run if it isn't pouring rain, and yoga in the evening. That'll be yoga 4 days in a row. Nice. It's been a while since I managed that. I also have to pick up several cases of cookies. Yeehaw. 

Thursday morning I'll get to 515, and the smalls are going to daycare. It's St. Patrick's Day and fantastic husband has declared it a time for daydrinking. I should be able to manage some morning Guinness before heading home to sleep. It is back to the salt mine Thursday night after all. 

My baby boys are going to be six years old next week. Time flies (not really, it's felt like every fucking minute of 6 years). Tonight they read me a book about horses. 12 more years and they'll be reading me their college entrance essays. Hopefully. 

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my evening snack. 2400 calories ain't gonna eat themselves. 

Oh, and this is totally unrelated, but I'm currently obsessed with this song. 

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