Love yourself 

Hello, my friends. It’s a hard topic today, I’m afraid.  

I’m in London on business and I had an unfortunate conversation yesterday. I stewed on it a few hours then took it to a powerful support group: my friends at my friendly neighborhood fitness studio. This is what I wrote, and thank goodness for their positivity & support. 

Here it is: 

Hi ladies. I had an emotionally hard evening earlier and I’m still bothered by it so I felt I should write it out. 

It’s my last day in London and at an after work cocktail party I was having a conversation with 3 other women. Two are vice presidents within the company, 46 & 48 years old, and the other is a manager like me, and she’s 40. All three are about a size 6. The manager also teaches body pump and is fairly muscular. The VPs started talking about how they’ve gained weight. How they have “ballooned” since last year due to stress & travel & dining out a lot & drinking a lot – as is often expected at these work things. They both started sharing horror stories about clothes not fitting, bathing suits where they have back fat where they didn’t used to. One referred to herself as having become “a fat whale.” It went on like this for several minutes. 
I was so offended. I felt it was such a distasteful, nasty, mean-spirited conversation on two counts: 

1. How dare they speak so horribly about themselves! And their wonderful bodies! I wanted to shake them and say don’t you understand the beauty & glory & honor it is to be uniquely you? Just as you are? 

2. I was standing there in my size 18 body, in the conversation, while one called her own body a fat whale. If she thinks that of herself then what does she think of me? Is she judging the size of my thigh? The jiggle of my upper arm? Does she think I am less capable than I am because I’m not slim & trim? 

I am sick of women who feel they have to tear themselves down. In doing so they tear down the other women around them. These are strong, amazing, successful women who just absolutely tore apart their bodies in a 5 min conversation, and, I felt, tore mine apart too.

The other manager and I both were silent. I think she has a healthy, realistic body image, as she should – she’s worked hard for it. 

I felt so uncomfortable, so awkward. Like I was, literally, the elephant in the room. 
I just wonder if women like them can hate their own bodies so much then am I stupid to be okay with mine? I mean, I’m *not* okay with it but I’m also doing something about it! And in the meantime I don’t have to hate it. I can celebrate it and the strength and amazing things it’s done for me over these last 5 months at the studio – plus the last 41 years of my life! But this conversation implied that I should hate my body unless it’s perfectly perfect and it made me so sad. It made me feel shame. Like how dare I love my body when these women don’t even like theirs! 

That’s not okay. 

It also made me wonder if I have to to be like them to promote further within my company? If so, then maybe I need a new company. 

I’m coming home tomorrow and I cannot wait to come back to my life. This got long so bless you if you read through it. See you all soon.

* * * 

That kind of talk is foreign to me anymore. I love my body and how hard it works, how it moves, how it keeps me alive. I think we need to change how we talk about ourselves. We need to love ourselves no matter our size. We work hard. We love others and we want to be loved so why is this so hard. 




P.S. Stop reading women’s magazines & celebrity magazines. It’s bad for your health. 

P.S.S. The pic is of me on stage speaking in front of 200 people earlier this week. Do you have any idea how hard that is for me? How self-conscious I feel? But I fake it. Hide the nerves. Put on my Spanx & a dress and just fucking do it. Because I’m smart, capable, and I know my shit. Nobody is going to dim my light. Afterward someone said they were in awe of my confidence and that I obviously really know what I’m talking about. I’m cute, I’m smart, I’m capable, I’m loving, and, oh yeah, I’m also fat. But it’s only a feature of my whole. 

I am a fertility goddess

The other day I ran across an image of a fertility goddess and I thought, hmmm, that looks familiar.

Okay, I’m exaggerating; not familiar, but similar or in essence roughly reminiscent.

I blotted that thought away like a shiny nose.

And then yesterday when I was thinking about my body shape (btw, not an unusual occurrence; I’ve probably thought about my body shape at least once a day since I was twelve so this wasn’t a new or unusual thing) I wondered how many designated body shapes there are for women and was it really fair to pin women down to a certain pre-defined shape?

So I looked up a few things. First, the Wikipedia entry for female body shape provides these strict guidelines:

  • Hourglass – If (bust − hips) ≤ 1″ AND (hips − bust) < 3.6″ AND ( (bust − waist) ≥ 9″ OR (hips − waist) ≥ 10″ )
  • Bottom hourglass – If (hips − bust) ≥ 3.6″ AND (hips − bust) < 10″ AND (hips − waist) ≥ 9″ AND (high hip/waist) < 1.193
  • Top hourglass – If (bust − hips) > 1″ AND (bust − hips) < 10″ AND (bust − waist) ≥ 9″
  • Spoon – If (hips − bust) > 2″ AND (hips − waist) ≥ 7″ AND (high hip/waist) ≥ 1.193
  • Triangle – If (hips − bust) ≥ 3.6″ AND (hips − waist) < 9″
  • Inverted triangle – If (bust − hips) ≥ 3.6″ AND (bust − waist) < 9″
  • Rectangle – If (hips − bust) < 3.6″ AND (bust − hips) < 3.6″ AND (bust − waist) < 9″ AND (hips − waist) < 10

Um … HUH?

If anybody can figure out that hourglass formula, I’m assuming this gal fits in that category:

Incidentally, this same Wikipedia page indicated that “Stone age venus figurines show the earliest body type preference: dramatic steatopygia.” – which is a ” is a high degree of fat accumulation in and around the buttocks.”

Hello Kim Kardashian
Hello Kim Kardashian

Which just goes to show the variations in culture and desire over time.

Then I started searching various other sources for information and what I found was extremely varied. Generally, all women’s body shapes are compared to fruit or geometric shapes. Again, I say HUH? Why? I don’t look like an apple, a pear or a banana, or a square, rectangle or inverted triangle. None of these things. Not even a circle.


I think I look like a woman. Not a type of a woman, but just a woman.

A softy rounded, plump, fertility goddess -because, dammit, that’s what I am! I had the babies! Conceiving them was astonishingly easy, carrying them was a gift and though delivery wasn’t a walk in the park, that experience didn’t take away my power. It enhanced it.


I am a fertility goddess, my dear, and I can own it. In fact, I may even be proud of it.

Love, light & thankfulness today, my sweets. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day and I choose to be thankful for all that I am.


On Jiggly Butts

My 10 year old, little J-man, is Autistic. One of the most awesomest by-products of his Autism is his lack of artifice. He doesn’t know how to read facial expressions and only tell people what they want to hear. He just calls ’em like he sees ’em. He’s no Eddie Haskell.

For the last year or so J-man has had an obsession with my butt. Flattering . . . . except he’s 10, and my son.

When I’m laying on my tummy he’ll come up on the bed or couch next to me, start pushing on either side and say, “It’s so squishy!” or “It’s so jiggly!” Then he says he loves it and “hugs” it. It’s so silly. And cute. And, you know, it IS squishy and jiggly so he’s just making an observation.

So a few days ago we were getting ready for school and work in the morning and I was flying around my bedroom in my panties and bra looking for the rest of my clothing. J-man came in so I could help comb his hair. As I was spraying and combing he started poking at my tummy. Poke. I shifted away. He followed. Poke. I shifted, he followed. Poke.

“Stop!” I said.

He’s unfazed, “I didn’t know your tummy was jiggly & squishy too!”

“Hey, buddy, people don’t really like to hear that,” I said, feeling the familiar disdain for my own body.

Jamie seemed perplexed, “but why? That’s what makes you unique, momma.”

And I may have teared up, hugged him close and told him he was so very right. *sigh*

What a kid. We could learn something from him. He hasn’t been sullied by the magazines and tv and everything that tells us beauty is about appearance, and only a thin, unwobbly body is what makes a woman beautiful. To him, I’m his momma, his beautiful momma, who loves him and whose round, squishy body is unique and it’s what makes my hugs and my cuddles so very soft.

I often feel like my body holds me back. That I could be further in my career, I could have felt stronger and more confident, that I could have kept the attention and love of some people in my life who may have been disenchanted with those exaggerated curves. I think those things at my low points.

But, you know what? Screw that. I am so much more than my body.

I’m right where I need to be in my career – and it’s not a bad place to be! I am just as confident in my professional life as I need to be, and that’s only growing over time and as my expertise increases. I’m realizing at a certain point in your career your appearance really doesn’t matter as much. To say that another way, if your appearance still does matter then you haven’t proven yourself yet.

Also, not insignificantly, I’ve been told that my curves are pretty enchanting so, you know, those people who don’t like them can go take a flying leap.

My curves are ME. They are who I am. I have been curvy as long as I can remember. Even when I was super-thin, I was curvy. It’s the way I’m made. As J-man said, it IS one of the things that makes me unique.

I’ve been within the same 10 lbs for the last 3 years. No matter what I do. I can sign up and train for 5Ks, I can cut out carbs, I can eat a box of Milk Duds twice a week, and I will still stay within the same 10 lbs. There comes a time when you just have to say, “this is my body.” This is me. Accept it or not. Love it or not. I choose to accept it.

(Except at the beginning of bathing suit season when a certain amount of trepidation is perfectly normal. I think).

Disclaimer: Health is important. There is body acceptance and then there is just being in denial to health problems. A happy medium is recommended.

You don’t have to love my body, but if you love me then you need to know that this is the package that the fabulous gifts that are my brain, my heart, and my soul are wrapped in. Love me or don’t –  but I recommend that you do.

Below is a video of a women, Allison Hatfield, telling her story of summoning up the courage to pose naked in front of a stranger and the life-altering thing that happened when she saw the end result. It’s truly powerful so give it a watch/listen:

Or read the transcript here:

This is also a good time to remind you that April 2 is World Autism Awareness Day! Light it up BLUE! More to come on this, but if you want to prepare your home for Autism Awareness month, April, then blue lightbulbs are available at Home Depot.

Remember: Different, Not Less. (And that applies to sooooo many things!)

All my love,


Holding myself accountable

This is the hardest time of year to lose weight. I’ve been plateau’d since October, but then was able to shift another 5 pounds in December. I’d love to lose another 10 (or at least 5) by mid-January so I’m posting this pic here to keep me moving!!

35 lbs
Difference: 7 months & 35 lbs

Please give me encouragement! I’d like to lose another 30-40 so I’ll need all the support I can get. Thanks!!


Yours, in striving for health & fitness,


5 Things

Whenever I start feeling pressured by ALL THE THINGS going on in my life I think of The Bangles and the “Time, time, time, see what’s become of me” quote from Hazy Shade of Winter (an awesome song). (Now, my husband will surely correct me and tell me that particular quote comes from Paul Simon. That’s fine. Except in my head I also hear the music so it’s The Bangles reference I’m making here).

So, due to the time, time, time issue I just have snippets for you today. Snippets of ALL THE THINGS swirling around in my over-crowded head just begging to be released. Each of these are unique and vary wildly from mostly unrelated to drastically unrelated. Each of these have been taking up residence in my head and banging at me from the inside and I MUST LET THEM OUT:

1. All soccer, all the time. The boys have both started soccer. 4 days a week. Their soccer practices overlap by 30 minutes and are at two different schools a few miles apart. The hubby and I are tag-teaming big-time. Please tell me this push towards socialization, athleticism, and confidence-building will all be worthwhile. Please.

2. In relation to Soccer, my Autie boy is troubled. This is his first time playing an organized sport and if he’s not exceptional and perfect at all of it then his emotions are triggered and he wants none of it. His feet and hands aren’t as coordinated as he would like and he just can’t master that drop-kick and then he says, “No, I can’t do it! Can we go home now?” And he loudly and angrily throws a fit, in front of his teammates because he isn’t hampered by the need to conform like so many other kids. The coach doesn’t know how to deal with him. The teammates don’t know how to respond. I get embarrassed.  Then ashamed. I get down to his eye-level, I talk to him, I try to reason through it with him. I tell him he’s learning, like the other kids and continued practice is what will help him. He’s largely unresponsive. He says things like “I’m stupid! I hate you!” to himself and hits himself on the head. My poor boy. How do I build him up? How do I help him? What can I do?

3. How do you feel about your spirituality? Do you think about it much? Are you quiet and introverted about it? Or do you blast it out for all to share? I have always kept my spirituality to myself and, for the most part, my husband has as well. Now things are changing. My husband has embarked on a spiritual journey that is quite life-altering and he’s bringing the whole family along with him. After 26 years of not attending church he has had a change of heart; he has reconciled some of the bitterness from his past, and decided that being a follower of Christ does not necessarily mean that he has to be aligned with a bunch of judgmental hypocrites like the Crazy Christians. To that end, he has found a church he enjoys and the whole family attended with him for Easter. There are Lesbians! There is a female pastor that looks astonishingly like Kathy Bates! There is openness and acceptance of anybody, anywhere on their spiritual journey. I’m not used to being forced to contemplate my spirituality and beliefs as much as I have been lately. I’m not sure yet, but I think it could be a good thing. (I retain the right to change my opinion at any time.)

4. I think there comes a point in every person’s life when they have to come to terms with a hard truth or two. Their age, their health, their likeliness of ever becoming an astronaut, an Oscar winner, or a late-night TV show host. Whatever it is, the more personal, the more inextricably linked to self-esteem, self-confidence, and self-perception, the harder that truth is going to be to accept. I’m dealing with a few of those right now. It’s been a long time coming,  and it’s not like I didn’t know these things before – but facing them, head-on, is the hard part. For years it’s been a dance, a flirtation, jumping forward and facing the issue and then deftly twisting sideways, plugging my ears and sing-songing, “I can’t hear you!” Burying it deeply for as long as possible until, eventually, it’s triggered and raises up with a vengeance. It’s not going to flatten me this time. I’m not flinching. I’m going to walk straight up, smack the issue in the face and say, “NO.  YOU be MY bitch now!”

5. I’m straying outside of my normal comfort zone here, but stay with me. I’ve been on the periphery of these on-going discussions on abortion and Planned Parenthood and employer paid insurance coverage for birth control and, honestly, I’m sick to death of this subject. I am pro-life. I am also pro-choice. The two are not mutually exclusive. I am a mother. I love babies. I think they are a blessing and one of those things in life that is truly pure and angelic. I don’t want babies to die. I also don’t want mothers to die. Without mothers, we have no babies. Women bear the blessing and the burden of being the life-makers, but they can’t do it alone and it’s unconscionable for women to be attacked and demoralized for something that was, quite obviously, a joint endeavor. When a baby is conceived accidentally – whether by rape, stupidity or simply by accident – then a woman, and her partner for that matter, have the right to protect themselves and their futures. The woman, specifically, has a right to protect her health. In order to prevent unwanted pregnancies it is important that all women, rich and poor and in-between, have access to birth control. It’s important that organizations like Planned Parenthood are available to help women, ALL WOMEN, with their reproductive health via regular exams, cancer screenings, birth control and, yes, abortions when needed. It’s cheaper for insurances to cover birth control than it is for a woman to get an abortion or for a family to be on welfare. That’s how I see it. Now, if the rest of the U.S. would just get in line that would be great . . .

Five snippets. All different. All so very separate yet a part of me. A part of the river of thoughts flowing  through my brain and linked by all my experiences and knowledge. Always  pushing and pulling, turning and tumbling. It’s always a journey, sometimes unattainable, to find peace in my thoughts and in my heart. Sometimes easier than others. Love, support and encouragement helps and I’ve been trying hard to GIVE that to other people because I want it in return too. I need it.

This is where my favorite quote comes in:

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

I hope your battle isn’t flattening you. I love you. I appreciate you. I think you are doing your best at ALL THE THINGS and that’s all that you can do.

Have a fabulous weekend, my friends. May your heart be at peace.


I’m an escape artist

I don’t know about you, but I find life to be quite overwhelming at times. Like so overwhelming I just want to bury my head in the sand until it all goes away. Or go to sleep. But I can’t do either of those things long-term so I cope by using various methods of escape.


Shows like the Bachelor/ette/pad are perfect for this. Or other shows where I totally love the characters and storylines – like Bones. Because at the end of the day I’ve had it. No more thinking. No more problems. No more reasoning required. Just entertain me, please.

But I don’t watch a ton of TV. It’s just not our habit to sit for hours and hours every day or watch all the new shows that come on every season. I could do that – don’t get me wrong – but it screws up our life too much. Prime-time tv starts at 7 PM here and usually I’m just getting home from work then and cleaning the kitchen or making dinner. So we Tivo the shows we love and watch them later. At our leisure. When I’m ready for my escape.

BUT – there are 4 of us in this house and really only one tv that we use most of the time. So occasionally the boys (including my husband) want to watch Phineas & Ferb or some other cartoonish show or movie that I’m not down with watching. So I go barricade myself in my woman-cave (as my hubby calls it) and get online.

The Internets

Now, obviously I have a lot of legitimate reasons to be online. I work online all day long. That’s my business. But I also get all my news online, I shop online, and it’s my first choice for communication these days. (And my iPhone feeds this habit swimmingly).

But, man, what a time suck! I love getting caught up on blogs that I’ve been ignoring, but I can literally sit there for HOURS and not get up-to-date on my Twitter feed, my blog reading and Facebook stuff. Not to mention getting around to writing something on my OWN blog. (oh hai!).

iPhone, baby

Speaking of my iPhone it has got to rank pretty high here. I use it so often and for so many different reasons that it’s hard to justify calling it an escape but it totally is – at certain times. Last night, for example, we decided to all watch the Johnny Depp Alice in Wonderland movie. We’ve seen it before – like 3 times – so there was nothing NEW to see. So I pulled out my phone and was following my Twitter feed and responding to a few things. The hubby was all ‘what are you doing’ and ‘it would be nice if you watched a movie with us.’ *SIGH* So, yeah, I get busted when I do that. But, HELLO, if I only have a marginal interest in the show then my brain is only engaged about 15%. What do I do with the rest?? (I’d like to point out that he fell asleep 10 minutes later and I actually saw more of the movie than he did. Hmphf.)


When I’ve had my fill of technology I rely on my old-standby – a bath & a book. Actually, to be honest, if I’m reading a really good book it often takes precedence over all my other escape routes. Good books do that. I neglect everything in the sweet storylines and wonderfully slow-building anticipation of a good, must-read book. I haven’t felt that I-can’t-put-this-down-until-I-know-what-happens kind of pull in a while though – probably not since I read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series. (So, any good recommendations?)


Okay, all of that to say – I’m trying to change my escapist tendencies. Oh, I’m not silly enough to think that I’ll stop procrastinating and dodging life a bit – I’ll totally still do that as long as life is hard (and it is, like, too hard) – but I’m trying to channel my escapes into something more productive. Something that will make my life better rather than perpetuate the cycle.

I started doing this in July when I began working-out regularly. I was doing really well. It pains me to admit this, but I fell off the wagon a bit. I went on a business trip a few weeks ago and then I wasn’t feeling too hot for a few days the next week and – BOOM – momentum and motivation down the tubes.

BUT that’s about to change. I just registered for my first 5k walk. It’s 2 weeks from today (coincidentally, or not, the day I turn 36). There’s another I’m going to do in mid-October as well. I’m determined to make my escapism work for ME.

By the way, 36 is going to ROCK. I’m sure of it.

So what are your escapist habits? And are they good or bad or somewhere in between? Did you overcome them? And where do you find motivation?? Help me. HELP ME. I need all the commiseration, encouragement and we’re-in-it-togetherness that I can possibly get right now.

Now I’m off to make Mexican 5 layer dip and contemplate doing 3 miles tonight tomorrow.

Bike rides & broken toes

Oh the horror.

Yesterday we decided to go on a family bike ride. My little guy, Bubba, just graduated to a bigger bike with no training wheels. (Oddly enough, he is already more confident and a better rider than his older brother – how does that happen?). Anyway, we got Bubba a bigger bike this weekend and decided to all go out yesterday. Sounds great, right?

Then we realized it was going to be 100 degrees and decided to go on a ride in the evening after it had cooled down a bit. So we went to the movies instead. (Winnie the Pooh at the dollar theater. Cute, but not remarkable).

I got crazy with some cooking in the afternoon and early evening (more on that later), and when we sat down to eat dinner it was about 7:30. It was nearly 8 pm when we said, oh, family bike ride. We should go do that. So we hopped on and away we went.

Now, this is the part where I admit that when I’m rushed (due to the setting sun, in this case) I don’t always exercise the best judgment. I don’t think I’m ALWAYS a bad mom, but I do think I sometimes don’t think things through.

Tangent: One of my favorite kid movies is “Meet the Robinsons.” Anytime I think about a plan not being thought out I remember the scene where the T-rex is being controlled by the bowler-hat guy and has the kid cornered and he can’t reach him because he “has a big head and tiny arms.” Then he says, “I’m just not so sure how well this plan was thought through.” Then I laugh.

Anyway, back to last night and my not-well-thought-through plan. Or complete lack of plan really.

Here’s my guilty confession: I didn’t make the kids put on helmets or pads.


I know, I know. I suck. We were riding to our neighborhood park which is about 3 residential blocks away and I just thought it would be fine. After all, kids are going to fall down every once in a while. I did. I never wore a helmet or pads. Anyway, there’s my flawed logic and have since understood the error of my ways.

So everything was perfectly fine at first. Once we got to the park I said, “hey, let’s go through the park over to Bubba’s new school.” This entailed crossing one semi-busy road. We successfully got there with my older boy only falling on his bike once and luckily NOT in the middle of the busy street. We checked out where Bubba’s classroom will be and then decided to head back. Then my older boy wiped out again right in front of me and I had to brake severely to keep from hitting him. We got back up and went on.

It was getting duskier. My husband said he should have brought a light – just in case. And he said it was stupid of us to go this far without pads, helmets and a light. I didn’t say anything. I agreed but felt it was my fault so I just didn’t say anything. I was silently cursing myself though – stupid, stupid, stupid.

We got back to the park and that’s where my youngest wiped out. He got distracted, as he does, and rode into a flower bed. Luckily no real damage except to his pride, but he is Autistic and this is one of his things – he doesn’t like changes in routines or being surprised. So when he wiped out he was a crying mess for about 5 precious minutes before we could get him back on the bike. We were losing light like crazy.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t DARK yet. It was dusk. And the sun had sunk below the horizon at this point.

We persevered. We got through the park and into our neighborhood. We were two blocks from home and I remember thinking that I felt bad that the kids had fallen but, you know, being new riders I guess that happens sometimes . . .

Then my front tire caught a groove that I couldn’t get out of and the tire slid sideways. I went BAM. On my right side. On the pavement. Bike on top of me. Stunned. *sigh*

I got up, surveyed the damage and determined I would live. My chain had come off and it took another 3 minutes to fix before we could take off again. Porchlights were coming on at this point.

And, again, my older boy wiped out.

Oh, dear lord, I thought, I’m being punished for being a stupid, hasty momma. It will be just my luck if we get a broken bone out of tonight. And with the way he landed, and was screaming, I thought it was entirely possible he had a broken leg. Thank goodness he didn’t. Just scared him and made him hopping mad at his bike.

At this point my husband said, “It’s really too dark for us to be riding. This was stupid.”

So we metaphorically limped the rest of the way home. Got the kids cleaned and bandaged up and sent them to bed.

That’s when I looked down at my foot and, sure as shit, I had a broken toe. Deserved, I think.

I was going to take a pic but, trust me, it’s not pretty. All kinds of black & blue this morning. And maybe it’s not totally broken but just a sprain. In any case it will serve as a reminder to me to always make sure the kiddos, at least, are properly prepared before any future bike rides.

Learn from me. Don’t be a hasty momma.

I am not really the "working-out" type

I hate to sweat. Like seriously. I hate to get over-heated. And I hate it when my fingers swell.

I absolutely loathed P.E. class in jr. high and high school and was happy when I didn’t have to bother with it anymore for my junior & senior years. (Plus my jr. high P.E. teacher, Mrs. Phillips, was a royal witch with a capital “B.”)

BUT. Big ole BUT.

I had been thinking about it for a while. Thinking about how so many women I know run and do marathons and just absolutely get that bug and then they get all skinny and then I have to hate them. AND I HATE THAT. Having to hate them, that is. So I thought, hey, could I do that?

Then I said shut up, you’re not a runner. You hate running. You hate sweating. What’s wrong with you?

Then I said, no, YOU shut up. Because I could totally do that. I just need to shift my paradigm.

(par·a·digm n. 3. A set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them, especially in an intellectual discipline.)

So I did. Or have been. It’s an on-going battle. I decided to start on my first full day back from vacation – July 10. So for the past three weeks I have been doing it.

I’ve mostly been working-out on our elliptical machine. I like it. I like being inside. I do intervals on the elliptical too – I’ll go really fast for a bit and then go back to a more moderate pace. I have a bit of a routine – I definitely work-out every Monday night. That’s when I watch my guilty pleasure TV and working out at the same time balances that nicely, I think. I’ve been doing 3.1 miles consistently on the elliptical on Monday nights. Then I try 2-3 more workouts during the week as well.

When I work-out outside I try to do run/walk intervals. More walk than run because I know I need to start conditioning before I run too much or I will literally fall-down dead. Other things make working-out outside less desirable – like my own insecurities. I don’t want people to SEE me working-out. I’m sure I just look ridiculous.

This morning I was determined to work-out outside. It didn’t go as well as it could have due to a sore left heel, I forgot my water, my nose closed up due to allergies, and it was 89 flippin’ degrees and I was roasty-toasty. I came home early and took a COLD shower. All in all, I did just about 2 miles today.

But, HEY, if it was 5 weeks ago then I wouldn’t have done that at all, would I?

Conclusion: I still don’t like running or sweating but I love the feeling I have after doing it. I feel like I really accomplished something. And I just feel better about myself. Like I’m actively doing something to better myself. I feel SEXIER already. That feeling just absolutely rocks.

Two people have told me that I look thinner. I’ve only lost about 4 lbs so far. We’ll see.

Now I think I need to invest in a better sports bra – because these girls CANNOT be contained – and new trainers (Britishism). My current tennies give me blisters on the inside of my arch, just before my heel. Odd.

So there’s my first work-out update. I’ll try to post anytime I have something worthwhile to say. Please keep the support and encouragement coming – I will definitely need it.

Thankful Thursday: Too Much Good Stuff

I am indeed very thankful today. For many reasons:
  • Last night my boys came home after being with their grandparents in California for 12 days. I’m so thankful they came home safely to me. It felt weird having half my heart beating from another state. The two halves belong together just like my babies belong with me.
  • I’m thankful for having a mom & stepdad who would take my children for 12 days just so they can be with them and take them to do fun things. They went to the mountains, they kayaked, they swam a lot (and are still learning and getting better), they went to the Jelly Belly Factory, they helped my parents buy a travel trailer – okay, so not always fun for the kids. But my kids will get the benefit of that travel trailer (we’re already planning a trip for the 6 of us to Yellowstone next year) and how awesome are those grandparents? 


  •  I’m thankful for the time I had with my husband over the past weekend. We NEEDED to reconnect romantically without kids, parents and stressors and we did just that. And I was spoiled. He was spoiled. It was GOOD. After 12 years together (11 married) we don’t expect heart-shaped explosions all the time, but respect, understanding, caring, and a teacup or two of passion will put us in good stead for a while.
Date night. Downtown Boise. We saw BUCK and it was SO GOOD.
  • I’m thankful for the time I had alone. My husband had shows or rehearsals every evening so I had my house to myself. WOW. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was paralyzed in indecision from the options. Do I want to write a blog? Make dinner for MYSELF only? Clean house? Watch a chick flick? Pay bills? Work out? Paint the hallway? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY SHOULD I DO? In the end, to be honest, I didn’t do much. I did the dishes some days. I watched some girl TV (we don’t need details. moving on.) I worked out. I watered plants. I did (some) laundry. I did NOT bake a darn thing. One night all I ate for dinner was Zucchini. It was awesome.
  • I’m thankful for friends who are like family. ‘Nuff said. 
  • Last, but not least, I’m thankful for my renewed work-out ethic. I came back from vacation with the intention of beginning my work-out regimen. That Sunday I got out mid-day and started day 1, week 1, of the Couch-to-5K program using the C25K iPhone app. I didn’t finish it. I ended up walking half the “runs”. Because, hello, I’m not in the best of shape. But I’m going to persevere. I’m going to get it done. I’ve been hitting my elliptical at night. I’m very proud of myself. Very proud of the effort I have been making and I hope to keep it up. In the last 12 days I’ve done 3.1 miles on the elliptical a couple times, and then about 1 to 1 1/2 miles a few other times. I’m using a Pedometer app on my iPhone to track the elliptical work-outs. This is good for me. Baby steps. I will get there. But first I need new shoes. 🙂 

 What are you thankful for today?