Outnumbered Two to One

If you’re out of the loop and club HASAY is a mystery to you, visit Casey and she’ll give you the rundown, she might make you do some laps while you’re at it, but don’t let that frighten you away.

Now on to the mockery…

This week I was in jubilant spirits.

Motivation was my middle name.  Mrs. Motivation Bear.

I exercised every. single. day. while my children played quietly in the background. They all respected my personal space and the time I’ve carved out for myself to accomplish my fitness goals.

They’re happy for me. They cheer me on in respectable tones.

This week, I did not spend any time rooted to my sofa finishing the Stephen King book I checked out from the library.

I did not polish off a bag of extra cheddar goldfish as I blew through the second half of the novel.

I did not fall asleep with my clothes on some nights because I was completely and utterly exhausted.

This week I was full of energy, brimming with it, energy was busting out of my seams.

This week I did not gain two pounds, nor was I ever seen displaying a “muffin top” or any other baked goods related analogies to describe my soft middle.

I did not by any means eat a bunch of fried food, or fast food, or sugary foods, or any combination thereof.

I had a successful week. I was really feeling it, the gumption, the stick-to-it-iveness, the go-gettum-osity.  I’ve never wanted to exercise more in my life.

Yay.

Next week can’t get any better than this!

No regrets. No shame here. None whatsoever.

Did I mention the rice krispie treats? That’s because I did not make any.

For those of you getting ready to congratulate me, be sure to read the title…wink, wink, nudge, nudge…

Curious as to what HASAY is and what Casey’s club can do for you…go there.

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If I am to consider my recent fitness efforts a journey of sorts, then for the last three weeks I’ve been off the shoulder with four flats and a smoking transmission, if you get too close you might even smell gasoline. My body has not seen a lick of exercise since early December. My Jillian Michaels DVD has quietly gathered dust atop my entertainment center and the only thing I ventured to shred were potatoes and cheese.

I suppose the fact that I’ve been eating like a ten-year-old hasn’t helped my cause much either. The chips, the cookies, the ice-cream, the pie, have all contributed to the discomfort I feel when I try to button my pants. I actually spent the better part of Christmas day with my jeans unfastened…fly unzipped all the way down to accomodate my expanding waist line.

Then there’s all that coughing I’ve been doing.

And all my kids that have been spewing.

How through it all I’ve just been chewing,

chewing,

chewing.

Full of excuses aren’t I? At least you got a nice little rhyme out of it.

Yet tomorrow is a new day, a new week, the real start of the new year.

I will eat like a grown up should.

I will take my vitamins.

I will embark on some form of exercise daily.

I’ve got four new tires, a sparkly new transmission, and an engine that’s revving to go.

January’s my month, I can feel it. My jeans will fit me…oh, yes. They will.

Casey tells me this is week 10 of Club HASAY.

I’ll have to take her word for it, since the month of December has left me feeling like I’ve stumbled in to some kind of vortex where time is completely irrelevant. Days feel like weeks, weeks like months that feel like years. It’s like I’m carrying an extra decade on my face. Surely that can’t be flattering.

So if a simple calendar puzzles me beyond belief, should I really be expected to count calories? Cut carbs? Blast my abs with a cardio workout?

The answer is nay. NAY I say.

I haven’t exercised. I haven’t dieted in…since…let’s just say a while.

Due to the emotional nature of the crisis I recently experienced, I waffled from no eating at all to binging on Christmas cookies to subsisting on Hot Fries and Green Tea. An unhealthy dietary regimen the consequences of which I am currently reaping.

I am sick. koff koff. With the flu. sniffle sniffle.

All joking aside, I feel like garbage. That got hit by a semi. Then trampled by a herd of Spanish bulls. Then slammed by a freight train. Hauling garbage.

There’s no way I’ll be facing Jillian Michaels in my condition.

The only squat thrusts I’ll be doing will be…okay no, I won’t be doing any squat thrusts for a while. At least until my nose stops whistling and my man voice disappears. Instead I’ll be drinking fluids, taking my vitamin C and various OTC meds and longing for the day I’ll be able to hop back on that HASAY wagon.

This week though, the wagon passed me by, while I waved half-heartedly and blew my chaffed nose in to a hanky.

So I’m trying to get my soft self in shape with the help of a little bloggy group called HASAY , hosted by the incredibly relentless ever encouraging Casey . Let’s call this week 8, because that’s what everyone else is calling it.

This physical fitness thing, it’s not easy. See (and I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before) I hate exercise. A lot.

I loathe every minute of panting and sweating and heart pounding and muscle fatigue. It makes me angry actually. A fury I focus entirely on the pushy and chiseled Jillian Michaels, who hosts the 30 Day Shred DVD I’ve been exercising to.

Last week, I was prompted to move from Level 1 to Level 2. Call it a brief moment of insanity. Call it post Thanksgiving weekend remorse. Call it blind stupidity. But starting last Monday the die were cast and I began my second level Shredding in the evening hours, for 20 minutes while the kids tied up their loose homework ends.

It was…well, let’s just say it was. There were plenty of new moves to keep me furiously engaged. Moves like the ruthless squat thrust that made me feel like I was going to vomit an organ everytime I thrusted or squatted or both. Then there was the lovely plank pose that she used way too often for comfort, which when executed by moi more often than not resembled a warped two by four.

The good news - I managed to force myself to exercise four days in a row. That’s a record for me. And by the third day, I didn’t really feel like I was going to die during the cardio intervals. As much. I was also able to complete three man style push ups (as opposed to the sissy bent knee version I’ve been doing).

Can I get a woo-hoo?

I’m technically not watching what I eat, not counting calories or weighing myself in public anymore. There are far too many trappings and pitfalls this season that I’d rather not beat myself up over. So I pledge to not binge on cookie dough or polish off a five pound bag of candy corn, past that, I can’t make any promises.

My current goals are to get some exercise in daily (which is a constant struggle), move up to level three of shredding (without going in to cardiac arrest), and still fit in to my pants.

Works for me.

And for the rest of you HASAYers , may the force be with you.

I did a lot of eating this Thanksgiving weekend.

I’m not proud of it,  but I’m not ashamed either. It is what it is. I did what I set out to do. Eat and vegetate.

I ate past the point of comfort as I am wont to do. I ate over the course of several days, regardless of hunger or energy level, I ate. A lot. I made poor choices knowingly and repeatedly. Honestly, I felt no remorse. When I was bored I made a box cake or banana pudding or sugar cookies…because I could.

Then today at the grocery store, I weighed myself.

I love to think it’s not about numbers, it’s about getting stronger, more fit and all that blablabla. But man-oh-man five pounds in four days, that’s just rude. That Publix scale with the big numbers, I think I heard it laugh at me.

The good news, last week I managed to exercise to Jillian Michael’s 30 day Shred DVD three days in a row. That took some determination. I know 3 out of 30 is only 10% but multiply that times 10 and I’m what you call a success story. The point is though, it’s completely possible for me to exercise every day for 20 heart pounding minutes in the name of lean muscle mass.

The other truth that I’ve unwittingly discovered - I completely abhor exercise. Seriously. I despise every single stationary lunge, every sissy girl push up, every mother-loving jumping jack. I hate exercise. Like. A lot.

But I can do it. Oh yes. I. Can.

I hope my fellow HASAYers aren’t too disappointed.

So I don’t have a lot to brag about on the fitness front. It’s been a combination of viral infections, scheduling conflicts, and plain apathy that were my downfall last week. This week the prospects would seem just as grim considering Turkey Day looms just on the horizon, threatening diet ambitions with its gluttonous offerings.

I’m not going to lie.

I expect to eat my weight in sweet potato casserole, turkey, and chorizo stuffing. Then I’m going to get horizontal while my children run rampant in someone else’s house, terrorizing cats and feeding leftovers to the dog. All the exercise I’m going to be getting Thursday will be in the brief treks I make from the kitchen to the dinner table to the sofa to the car to my bed. I suppose I could travel in walking lunges and work off some of that sugar and starch, but what are the chances.

My goal this week is to try and make up for that one no - holds - barred day of eating. Today I plugged in my Jillian Michaels DVD, put on my sneakers and sports bra and got to “Shredding” - twenty minutes of strength and cardio intervals designed to shrink my thighs and give me palpitations. The problem is every time I do the Level 1 segment, I always think of this video:

I’ve got four kids, we’ve been Spongebob Squarepants fans for a long time. One of the “Shred” moves in particular is a pelvic stretch that is almost identical in practice to Spongebob’s “bring it around town” move. Inevitably every time I put my hands to my hips and do this rotating stretch, I can’t help but shriek my zaniest cartoon imitation of the yellow goober. I suppose there are worse things to channel as I exhaust my muscles in to near collapse. Spongebob is eager, energetic and spunky for an invertebrate. And I’m pretty sure he’s got like zero body fat. So rather than focus on Jillian Michael’s angry eyes, flared nostrils, and rock solid abs, I’ll channel my inner sponge and shred the week away. (Except for Thursday, I’ve made that abundantly clear right?)I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.

—–

In case you’re wondering what that clever acronym in the title means, visit Casey at Half As Good As You and meet all the other members of club HASAY , a weight loss and fitness support group for everyone under the bloggy sun.

For viral infections. Woo hoo. Nothing puts a damper on a good work out program more than a cold and/or flu.

Right now, I don’t actually know what I’m suffering from exactly. My throat is sore and scratchy, my head feels a little heavy, and I want to lay down…but that laying down part is consistent with my daily malaise. Am I sick, or is it just a touch of apathy? Who the heck knows?

My son, the kindergartner, is running a low grade temperature, my toddler is acting more erratically than usual, which is usually evidence that something is amiss.

What does all this mean in the grand scheme of my fitness goals? Am I making excuses? Am I looking for some get-out-of-HASAY-jail-free card?

Never.

There’s no excuse for the cake I made Friday, except that it was BOGO on Pillsbury Yellow Mix and there was no way I was passing up that bargain. There’s no excuse for the fried chicken sandwich I had today, or the pizza, or the Nutter Butters I scammed yesterday at a kid’s birthday party. (None of the kids were eating them, they were fair game.) I’m guilty, I did it, and it felt good. Lock me up and take away the high fructose corn syrup.

Last time I weighed myself I was up another pound. Like that’s not punishment enough.

This week I’m committing myself to this girl:

The slightly angry Jillian Michaels who promises I can be taut and lean in 30 days no less. If she can reduce the cottage cheesy texture on my outer thighs, I will be a believer, although an every day work out seems kind of a stretch of the imagination considering my sad defeat during another slackerrific week on Club HASAY . I’m aiming for 3 days of work outs, maybe building up to 5, and tee-hee possibly 7 some day. My only gripe is Jillian’s slightly belligerent posturing…and of course the fact that I completely hate exercising, but I’m working on it, I’m working on it.

I suppose it will always be something, right? Some motive to veer me off my path of dietary righteousness, some event to distract me from my fitness goals - projects, and house work, and familial obligations (oh my.) I can say it’s sabotage till I’m blue or I can call it was it is…life.

Either way I’m up a pound.

See, this week (which bears a startling resemblance to prior weeks) I didn’t have the discipline to stay on the straight and narrow. Instead I weaved and bobbed and behaved erratically - I exercised one day, then slacked the next, had salad for lunch only to allow myself a slice of pie for dessert, served whole wheat pasta for dinner then complimented it with greasy fried breaded chicken.

Then there were those infernal muffins I baked in the name of science. I am muffined out. Seriously.

Yet while I can’t claim to be any sort of HASAY success story, I’m still in the game. It’s not a giving up endeavor. So I screwed up here and there. Each day is a new opportunity to keep at it. I’ve garnered quite a few helpful tips from fellow members, not the least of which is a dangerous looking DVD that promises results in 30 days. This coming week holds promise. I can feel it. (Or is that a muffin revolt?)

Either way, I’m starting anew.

You can too actually.

Go visit Casey at HASAY for a healthy dose of fitness motivation.  She’s just giving the stuff away. Some of the members are actually doing their part, working out, losing weight, making slackers like me feel green with envy (or wait, is that the muffins again?)

Yeah, next week for sure. I’ll be bragging all about my fatigued muscles and sugar withdrawals. It’ll be great.