They say it's your birfday

So you have an excuse to eat cake! As long as you behave yourself. Plus, it had balloons on it. Balloons, I say!

I know I know, I should be good. So I balanced it out with strawberries, orange slices, tangy grapes, and salad. Mmm good. And wow--full! At least I was until a wee bit ago when I gulped down a soy latte while chatting with mizz-rhizz-dizz at the Zeitgeist, and ingested some oats. Oats are for goats and farmers and boats. And furry French coats. Yes oats.

So my goal for the rest of the week is to not eat MORE cake. *Hoo* It already tried to tempt me, which urging I staved off with orange slices. And the thought of today, Wednesday, organic veggie day! YES.

Also today, let's see... English Muffin in the AM, then a (Ack! JOMENS is waving at me and I'm typing while turned around) protein bar snack. And holy clean teeth batgirl! I love a toothy parade.

There's got to bee a morning after...

alright it's just another morning, this time after my birthday, after eating a teriyaki flat iron steak and asparagus and mashers at 'Da Biersch' (sadly, they now make their house salads with cheese, bacon, and cucumber--sacrilege--so I opted out). Yesterday morning there was weight loss to report (back to the 162) which today has bounced back to its previous 164-ish zone (though it is early and the system's aren't all online yet, so I'm not fretting).

Did get some cardio in yesterday before dinner, not to mention running uphill lugging around a table (massage), heavy (quite), and unwieldy (very). Somehow it seems like the resultant firming up and weighing down has a bit of delay to it. Oh right, and I ate some sour Skittles while massaging mr dooferhoofer (anniversary celebration) and watching The Dark Crystal. All up fabulous bday--I got a magnetic Lego Leia! How can it be less than exuberant?!

Another early morning means a trip to the dentist. I love days that start off so brilliantly (she is a doll!). Must turbo-floss in preparation.

Being *old* feels like tired

Alright, I assume it's more that being *up at 5am* feels like tiredness, but on no other day can I semi-kid my way through jokes about hip replacements and falling without being able to get up than on my first post-crest-of-the-hill birthday. Right? C'mon!

And for the record, I did not say no to the delightful RizzleRhee and her candle-lit bday cupcake. I said no to half of it. What can I say... I like wax.

Sparkles surprised me with kombucha and jasmine tea! yum and healthy and yum some more! and I tried my tastebuds on a way-too-stale rice cake before scarfing some TLC crackers and a blueberry Clif bar for lunch. I think it may have actually been packing foam left in the rice cake bag as a practical joke. (oh yeah and there was that soy latte and plain bagel this morning whilst volunteering in the wee hours--no wonder I almost bonked!)

Tonight there may be some Thai food involved... and lots of bee love anniversary magickalnessesssesssss. Mmmm. Curry and cutie!

Wheezy Fleas

I'm paranoid and I can't stop itching. Gah! Just the thought of fleas makes little pieces of little cells go all haywire and start dancing wee jigs across my shoulder blades and inner ear and shin bones and clavicle. Who spiked my applesauce!

Late work night--want to finish up but not have to work later tomorrow on account of it's a-my birfday. Yuh-herrr. *scratch scratch*

Hoo. I feel portly. Blah.

Don't take Ambien at work

I swear, I woke myself from sleep-eating just now. It was horrible. I was working on something in the kitchen at work and then suddenly I had a piece of pizza in my hand, and some in my mouth, and all the sounds were distant and muffled and I was in this weird pie-hypnosis. I don't know how it happened. One moment I was writing jokes about Safeco Field on a giant post-it note, and the next I was gullet-deep in veggie combo delight. I can't remember the last time I actually had pizza. I nearly gagged, chastised myself, and hurried back to my desk, throwing away the offensive slice and discreetly (or not) regurgitating my mouthful.

I remember the cheese... when it was not a big deal, when I ate it with reckless abandon. Now I just want to be sick. The tasty badness of it could be overwhelming, but the side of guilt is just not so appetizing. At what point did I forget it was MY body I was trying to poison? Egads. Sorry tummy. Sorry throat. And thighs, please forgive me. I'll run extra for you tonight.

It had to have been a trick. That apple slice I snacked on that tasted (for bad or for worse) like someone had sprayed it with condensed air chemical--maybe that was really a swallow-and-forget-it chemical conspiracy. Still, I should know better. At least I spit.

I would kill for some raisins. And could probably stand to gargle some bleach. Huyaacchh.

Wow. I am so embarassed. This right here is why I'm writing it down. Let the tsk-tsking commence.

Mnah Mnah (doo doo doo dooooooo dooooo)

Maybe I've never watched the Oscars before... I wanted to see more dresses, more scandal, more crying, wailing, gnashing of teeth, people tripping over impossible hemlines, something see-through on Cher, you know... the good stuff. But turns out they're kinda boring. And all about movies I haven't even seen. Not any of them, nope not a one.

I take it back... we watched part of the Bourne Ultimate (which will hereafter and forever be known as "Mortal Tomato" which I find to be much more apt). And there was the whole Ratatouille GameCube game phase, but I didn't get that into it. Sneaking games bore me almost as much as the Oscars.

We did a bit more cardio today, sleepy-foot be darned. The 30 pounders are getting easier to curl (good form! good form!) and someday I'll be able to do as many as 5 actual curls... maybe even 6! Exciting times indeed.

The most exciting part of today though may be the opportunity to seriously entertain the possibility of working toward teaching yoga! I know that sounds convoluted and vague, but it's the start of a path. A path full of bendyness and bliss. I do believe the world seems just a little bit shinier today. Also, that couscous for dinner was downright dee-lightful (yellow onion, green onion, garlic, corn, Israeli couscous, paprika, salt, pepper, olive oil.... and love. Awwwww.). That after discovering a new secret to home made chili (other than the whole "reheating it is always better" next-day goodness): rose hip jam. Gurgle. Just the thing to even out the tomato acidity and make it dreamy--all in one spoon.

I keep rediscovering my love of rice cakes. Today was no different. So light, almost fluffy, tantalizingly sweet or savory, and practically anti-caloric. Who could ask for a better snack! Definitely something Oscar-worthy (or at least fitting-into-Oscar-dress-worthy). Mmmm yeah.

Slept like a baby

Woke up like the same old non-baby. Still 163/4 (it's hovering JUST below the line, so I can't fairly call it 164, but it's close enough to be quasi-depressing). Though, notably, pre-poo. So. I'm not going to look again until tomorrow.

Man... I even cut my toenails! Maybe it's time to get a haircut. Blow my nose. Do all the other ridiculous things I think will matter to shave off a few ounces (spitting is one, trading my feather-light glasses for contacts before I weigh in, removing as much jewelry as isn't permanently affixed... bollocks. All of it.)

Alright--I have a day of working out ahead of me. I will overcome. And possibly shower. Twice.

Unflappable with a side of culinary delight

Not one to be outdone by a scale, I ventured forth into the day with most of my wits about me. After a pleasant (albeit abbreviated due to extreme foot discomfort) stint on the elliptical (which is close to the treadmill, which was occupied by my resident spirit coach, mr. dooferhoofer--he of the boundless energy and enviable metabolism), and more heavy-stuff lifintg, I spent a few minutes sprawled on the floor ogling the latest fashions in Vogue (scary thin still looks scary thin in an obnoxiously floral tent dress, but amazing tulip shoes just make it work... what can I say), then snacked briefly on a couple tasty Newman's fat free fig bars (I like them just a little better when they've been exposed to air and have just a bit of crunch around the edges) and headed out the door for yoga class. Yin flow, fabulous, even with the gawkers passing by the windows in droves headed for the upstairs Flower and Garden show--perhaps we'll head over there tomorrow, if for no other reason than to try once again to find access to the skybridge that spans Pike St. between the Convention Center and that other building where we once saw Bodies on display. Another story for another time, though it's been brought to mind a few times while reading over the past few days.

Yoga was glorious though--Sharon is glorious. Everyone should have such a teacher. Tomorrow I've promised to bring the foil so we can block of the distracting ceiling light that won't turn off and light as we see fit--flourescents not necessarily lending themselves to meditative bliss (though we've made do for almost 2 months now). Post-workout #2 of the day, I treated myself to a crunchy bowl of apple-cinnamon Square-Ems, a cereal that's so fun to say you almost don't want to eat it, except that it's unbearably delicious. Especially with dried cranberries and raisins. Drool. Square-Ems-Square-Ems-Square-Ems-YEAH!

Spent a little time getting irradiated in a tube--a must for any freckle seeker--and then shopping for foodstuffs. Today we decided to make some chili (a first for me), and it was moderately successful, in that it will be fantastic heated up tomorrow once the potatoes get a chance to soggy up a bit more. Also tried my hand at some from scratch jalepeno corn bread--hoooooooey! That was some damn tasty fare, especially with just a touch of rose hip jam drizzled over the top! I had no honey, so used some agave instead--not as sweet but oh yeah yum. After more reading and some Cure Trilogy-watching, we hit the dog park to spin outdoors with the Heelys. So.Much.Fun. (even with the resulting inner thight cramp... I will live).

The day being so divine, we decided to sit outside on the balcony and watch the sun set over Puget Sound (and counted 17 different cranes in the process of building things to block some piece of our view--must enjoy the Needle while we can... *sigh*). Later on, I fired up the gas stove for my favorite meal of late: blackened garlic prawns (this time with just a touch of the remaining agave syrup) and steamed broccolini with honey toasted almond slivers and a splash of ponzu. I can die happy. Or sit awake and read happy. I'd prefer that, yes, as I hear the afterlife cafeteria leaves something to be desired.

Tomorrow beckons--more yoga, more cardio, more napping in the sunlight. I love the weekend.

The good, the bad...

1. I look hot this morning (so sayeth the man and the mirror). Naturally, I attribute this to the wondrous and restful night of sleep, not hearing the alarm disturbance at 5:50am, but rather being awakened by the sun and the surging sound of traffic that I convince myself nightly is just the ocean lulling me into slumber. Lifting some weights last night has made me glow, despite the brevity of the gym visit. I'm amused by my current read (Stiff by Mary Roach--fabulously funny and more than a little morbid--this is my kind of woman). I didn't eat all of my dinner last night (more amazing black bean soup) and I feel confident that I'll be pleasantly surprised by the scale this morning.

2. I am not pleasantly surprised by the scale this morning.

3. I contemplate throwing the scale out the 17-story window. It has obviously chosen to ignore the memo (see 1.).

4. I curse that pack of seemingly innocuous Life Savers that I nibbled on yesterday to get a sugar rush that would keep me awake, but that mostly made me hyper and loud and overly-amused at my officemate's insistence on perfecting and displaying "ice dancer head" (though it was really very exuberant head-turning, and the near leap and nearer topple from the revolving plush chair, followed by a rousing round of Humdinger wherein we made each other guess and sing along with a variety of Sound of Music tunes, were all quite entertaining-slash-frightening).

5. Now I have to go downstairs and run. Run! Tell those stubborn phantom pounds who's the boss. Invisible Tony D. No more 163-164 for me.

6. I hate you Life Savers!

I AM SO SLEEPY

Like I may not make it through the next half hour sleepy. I nearly passed out in my 2 1/2 hour meeting, then gave myself brainfreeze by slurping on a honey milk bubble tea (YUM! resounding) and then tried to eat some chicken and vegetables but thought they tasted fishy so I just ate some rice and tossed the rest. Now I want to sleep, a somewhat exhausting day it's been. Also, I feel like catching up on some CSI (who who who who WAAAAOHHH) after catching a glimpse of miss-sara-sidle last night in a random CBS flash (the TV so rarely being on).

I think I need to lay down. *sigh* got to plow through it... zzzzzzzzzzz

On the bright side...

162 today (and it wavered a bit close to 161, but too soon to call it). That means: 27 lbs. to go(al).

Reminders are good things

Especially on days where you want to choke the world. Throttle. Asphyxiate. Smother and suffocate. I'm feeling a little cranky I think... thoughts in my head are getting me down, and I want it to be alright everywhere, but if y'all are just gonna be infuriating, well then to hell with the whole caboodle. Give me a pillow.

Of course, then I see this lovely reminder sticky note for myself. And even though I wrote it to remind myself not to snack incessantly, it's fitting for other things too (like controlling outbursts of rage:

"Focus on your goals, not instant gratification. You don't need it. Just wait."

Okay, I can do that. It's Friday after all, with a weekend ahead of me filled with yoga and meditation and reading and relaxation. Breathe.

Maybe the optimum zen oatmeal is sinking in (a slightly more lackluster Yum, but a Yum nonetheless... jaded solely by by own disquieting thoughts). I had an English muffin again too. Still not moldy, but I stuck the rest in the fridge just in case... no one likes unwelcome mushrooms).

Breathe...

It does a body good

I like milk. I admit the thought of drinking lactose from a cow's teet is pretty non-appetizing at this point in my life (or wait, always) but somehow the processed byproduct of bovine mammary secretion is tasty, inviting, comforting. I had a conversation once with a marvelous medidatrix who posited that my craving for sugary tastes was linked to my wee days as a milk suckler, those tastebuds that responded to sweet mama milk forever linked to feelings of comfort. Or maybe that explains the creamy silky milky longings.

I only bring this up on account of just having swigged some moo juice, likely much to the (udder) disgust of the nearby Mr. HooferDoofer--an avid non-milk drinker to be sure. I too have been drawn to the soy side many a time, and often prefer it, but maybe there's some good in the tried and true moo. Organic, that is. No bovine growth hormone for this no-longer-growing girl.

Work day was somewhat depressing; the post-work stint in the gym has already done wonders for my mood, I can tell, though it was touch and go there for a bit. The mister man can attest to my somewhat downtrodden countenance (aka curling-up-into-a-ball-under-the-counter-and-groaning, followed by some intense laying-on-the-laundry-pile-and-sighing-heavily), and I profusely apologize for my grumpishness. I'm still not RIGHT about the whole thing, but I don't have to be a poo. Pooh! poooo...

Well post-workout (which was a feverish half hour of ellipticizing, a brief stint curling some 30 lb. barbells--wherein I surprised myself at my own pent up strength-slash-bitterness-about-the-work-thing-or-maybe-really-strength and nearly walloped myself in the face, and then another 20 minutes on the elliptical machine until my badly bruised foot--the reason for my recent adoption of FLATS of all things, me of the easy breezy everyday stiletto--was too numb and throbbing to keep me standing) we popped back upstairs, greeted by more strange squeeze doll noises from the bedroom computer (it's learning to speak trade all by itself... and hey, that was quite the parenthetical passage back there; but moving on) and I treated myself to the aforementioned milk gulp and some dried cranberries, and set about making a quick stir fry of veggies and chicken (from a frozen bag, I know... not my best work... and honestly, it was better last time, but it was fast and tasty and nearly fatless and replete, yes replete, with veggies, albeit semi-soggy reheated veggies). Semi-yum. And more chopstick fare (like the salad earlier today which prompted some co-worker queries, but hey, have you ever tried eating salad with a spoon? REALLY. Not the funnest.)

I have this theory that eating everything with chopsticks will make me more mysterious. Perhaps part of my mystery will be that I cannot physically eat sherbet, in which case I may have to settle for a life more ordinary. Because damn I love sherbet.

So it begins

The work day is already off to a fantastic start. As in it started with an early morning visit to the dentist (I heart her) and a brand spankin new crown! No anasthetic on account of I am so hard core. That, and the root canal pretty much took care of that whole nerve crazy pain thing (tissue pain, totally different story... I nearly choked on gauze and pinched my thumb off in the name of pain management).

So starting out the recording of the ingestion (before it even gets to full on DIgestion), here's the breakfast of champion. That's Me. I'm a champ. You know it!

1) A huge shout out to my new favorite hot cereal, the most divine instant oatmeal to date (sorry Raisins and Spice, you've been demoted): Optimum Zen. When they say Whole oat goodness, they mean it. Plus the ginger and cranberries... *mouth watering uncontrollably* Tasty!
2) Okay, so I also had a toasted english muffin of the raisin variety, also quite tasty, and nearly positively not moldy yet.

Ooof, the tooth hurts a bit. Which for the moment keeps me from wanting to shove anything else in there. Ha! The novelty of finally being able to chew with both sides of my mouth (after a 4-month stint with the temporary crown) has not yet hit full-on. We shall see...

***Mid-Morning***
I was wooed by the cuties--they beckoned with all their cuteness and I obligingly peeled and devoured them. I think I may have swallowed a seed accidentally. I wonder if orange petals will grow out of my navel.

**Early Afternoon**
I'm craving chicken, or something that tastes like chicken, so my options are pretty limited (guffaw). I've been sipping on a delightful Strawberry Serenity kombucha for a while, but something savory sounds soooo scumptious. Ah! But what is this in the freezer at work? Chik-patty? Could it be? Yes! Morningstar you save me again! Tossed in with some fresh baby spinach and a touch of rosemary vinagrette, that and a scrounged half a bagel and I'm set. (And how lucky that I found a bottom half--my favorite!) Ahhhh satisfaction.

**Slightly Later Afternoon**
SWEET CRAVING! I have a Clif bar here... I want to demolish it. Chomping at the bit. Fine, half of it will have to do. For now.

**Really Late(r) Afternoon**
Fuji apple perfection with just a smidge of [Choosy Moms Choose] JIF for a protein-boron brain kicker. Go! Fight! Win!

I need to go home and floss profusely.

Aren't you supposed to wait an hour after eating...?

Before blogging? Hmm. Well, some things just can't be put off anymore. And as the whole point of this weighty affair is growing some awareness around WHAT I eat and WHEN I eat it, I suppose it makes sense to idle here, tastebuds still savoring the savory lingering black bean soup glory. Maybe I'm supposed to wait an hour before laying on the ground *trying* to type something sensical, while Mr. DooferHoofer tries his best to be the single most annoying being on the planet. I realize it makes him giggle to jiggle my tummy fat, seeing as how he has none of his own, not now, not ever that he can remember I'm sure, and that it's quite the oddity, a marvel of nature, but it doesn't seem to have the same effect on me. Not since I was three (except for that one time I pretended to be Santa and we laughed until boogers came out of my nose, and then we laughed about that too). Mostly it just makes my eyes go into glare mode and makes me resent both his limitless (and sweat-free) energy reserves, and his uncanny ability to eat everything in sight and not gain a fraction of an ounce. (Usually I admire these qualities, they give me hope, but not whilst my fatty bits are being jostled about.)

SOOOO anyway, I discovered some surprising new fatty spots today, just hanging about at that dangerous cross-roads between the sea of stomach and the great hip hills, and despite justifying it aloud as perhaps a change in the other direction (a random area of previous fatitude has now receded, leaving an odd lumpy spot, obviously), even I cannot swallow such denial for too long. Thus the need to make myself and my weighty woes accountable to something other than my weak self (Willpower free since 93!).

And it's not like I can't do this. Hell, I shed 100 pounds before turning 30, and I didn't think that would happen. LIFESTYLE CHANGE. It's the only way. So what's up now? Well... overworked, under-worked out, bad habits want to creep in, plateau, whatever it is... I'm not where I want to be. I'm almost 31 and I feel like it's all gonna turn to mush unless I whip it into shape now! My old goal was 160, and I said once I got there I'd keep going, but it just got stuck in my consciousness somehow, and even though I've bounced down as far as a (scale anomaly I'm sure) 149, I keep gravitating back to the 1-6-0. This very morning I weighed in at 163. Not the best day. I can't even blame it on hormones. And I just feel woobley. All chub, all the time.

So I committed myself (by stating it aloud to someone other than me, and someone whom I have not bribed to be easy on me) to reaching my NEW goal of 135 this year: before 2008 is out. And I WILL do it. And it has to start now. It can start with this simple omission: I love food. I sometimes hate that I love food, but I do. And I think it's okay to say that and be okay with it. It just has to be the right food. And I crave comfort food and sweet food and anything that ends in "cake" even though I ought not to want it. I love healthy food too and I love to cook (damn fine straight up cooking beast I be). But I need to make myself more aware of what I put in, and what kind of energy I expend, if I am ever going to not be an addict.

I have seen myself do amazing things before, so I know it's possible, and now I'm just going to spew garbled text about it to no end. Who knows, maybe someone else will get inspired, and maybe we'll start a chub club and weightlift our way to happier-ness. I'm game.

Right, so after spending a mere 23 minutes on the elliptical machine downstairs, I consumed some delightful black bean soup (home made from a low-fat, organic, cuban black bean bisque, with onion, garlic, carrot, yellow finn potato, more garlic, turkey ham, did I mention garlic? and cajun blackened seasoning) with some weird green organix italian herb croutons on top, and that was it. No after-soup snacking. This whole having to admit it to the world thing might just work.

Now I think I'll go read about cadavers and try to get some sleep. You know, the usual.