Hey gorgeous! Get your sweet ass in here. I pre-warmed your spot on the couch with my aura. So, here’s something. I was at Psych this morning. Here is an excerpt:
Me: Did I tell you I’m going to Hawaii in the Spring? Yeah, I really want to lose enough weight to go zip-lining. I hear some places have weight limits and it would be the worst to be turned away if I was too heavy.
Psych: Well, yes. And of course there are the other risks…
Me: Like what? Oh. HA! Right! Also, duh… I don’t want to plummet to my death in the Hawaiian jungle. But seriously, being embarrassed is worse, right?
So that’s how my brain works in case you were wondering. I think that just guaranteed Psych at least a dozen more sessions with me.
Today I went to the gym! Hold your confetti guns. I went to pick up a 10-pass for my son. I think the act of getting the 10-pass counts as cardio by association though. The thing is, I have so many negative associations with sports from the past. ANGST-ERCISE, people! I was continually picked last for teams (boohoo), I once tried to throw a softball only to have it dribble out of my fingers and land behind me, I figure skated briefly and though I was GD graceful and had the best hand-sewn dresses ever (thanks Mom!), I was never fast and wasn’t really breaking any height records with my jumping. Oh, but the sequins…
I was fairly good at shooting baskets and my (likely) lesbian gym teacher, Ms. Mantilla, even suggested I try out for the basketball team. God love her. I never did though because by high school, it had been firmly ingrained in my soul that I was not athletic.
Oh! This one time at (not band) camp, we had to run from one foresty place to another foresty place on Keats Island, BC. It was autumn and quite chilly. I was like Forrest Gump that day. God, did I run. I remember hearing my footfalls and my heart beating loud in my head. I was bound and determined that I was going to be one of the first to arrive. And OMG, I DID IT! There were about 6 other teenagers there before me when I arrived triumphantly. I sat down at a picnic table and leaned over to catch my breath. That’s when I heard the laughing. “Oh my gosh! Lori! Your head is steaming!!!” What? No. Please no. God no. Please God who I believe in at this lovely Baptist camp, please God to whom I rock “This Little Light of Mine” on the piano, please God who must see my love for Amy Grant & Keith Green… please cool my head down. Please let my pits be soaked, my back be drenched, my gonch be soggy, but don’t let any more heat escape through my head. I’ll be on pot duty in the kitchen all summer if You just — I know. I’ll put my toque
on. Toque on. Problem solved. Nope. Louder laughter. “Ahahahaaaa! Her head is steaming through her toque!!!” Kill me. Just strike me down and throw my ashes in the water by Campfire Rock, please. The other kids weren’t being mean. I know this. A head that steams through a toque is fairly hilarious. Unless it’s your head. Uuugghh.
Flashback to Grade 7 at Jeff Simon’s ‘grad’ party. In BC, Grade 7 was the end of elementary school, so we were gonna party it up, 1977 style. Jeff’s family had a grand house with a pool out back. At some point, likely jacked-up on fully-sugared Kool-Aid, boys started throwing girls in the pool. Then boys threw boys. I hid in the house under the pool table because I was afraid they’d say something about how heavy I was when they tried to hurl me into the pool. Eventually I was the only one not in the pool. I was found and got thrown in, thanking my Baptist-camp God that they didn’t remark on my sturdy frame.
So, you see, sports and exercise hold a crapload of angst for me. I’m cool walking. I haven’t screwed that up unless singing loudly and playing air guitar while walking is considered bad form. I like to swim on my own because lord knows, a big woman does love to feel weightless. Sweat? What sweat? Also, I’m a Scorpio (sexy, I know) so water is like, totally my element, yo.
Psych and I are going to try some more hypnosis next week around this angst-ercise stuff. I think changing my brain will be super duper helpful.
You might have seen my tweet over the weekend: “Just fell off the calorie wagon into a large pile of chips.” Here’s the good part. I enjoyed the HELL out of those chips. I did not kick my ass for one second while I felt that sweet grease and salt on my lips. I got back on the wagon/horse the next morning and all in all, it was one day with a few hundred extra calories. Onward and downward (thanks for that one, Brad).
Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t a big challenge for me because my awesome extended fam made tons of scrumptious vegetables. Also, I hate pumpkin pie, so that was no temptation. I got an interesting combination of exercise at the cabin with the fam. We spent some time shooting arrows, shooting a pellet gun (I’m good at this!) and I threw the football around with my son, Dylan. Well, I threw it around until my hernia incision said, “UM!!! I’m leaking! STOP IT!” Heh. Oops. My super fun family doc assured me today that nothing’s infected, just leaky. Awesome. The seroma (twins) seem less hard and slightly smaller at least.
Okay, scale time… hell, 1.6 pounds down. That’ll do, Donkey. That’ll do!
Thanks so much for reading. I love when you come by. Hug me.
Pounds lost this week: 1.6
Total pounds lost: 26.6