Sunday, July 21, 2013

Day 51: My Worst Enemy? You Might Be Looking at Her

It's been a pretty miserable week, as I believe I've mentioned a time or twelve. Yesterday I waited and waited for my promised thunderstorm, and it never showed. It was another hot bleary humid day, we decided to postpone both Chore Day and Pizza Night (now that our beloved Nicola's has closed, we are on a weekly quest to find our new favorite pizza place, which been lots of fun, but everyone likes the idea of pizza as a post-chores treat, and also Li'l Martini had a sleepover at HoneyBear's and didn't want to miss a chance to vote), which meant that I either had to cook or we were going out yet again. It also meant that I didn't get to experience that wonderful Sunday morning joy of waking up to a perfectly clean house and knowing that an entire weekend day stretches out before me with no chores in it.

Also, Husband has been sick for most of the week with a bad summer cold, a terrible cough, and a weird and painful blister under his tongue; he feels, sounds, and looks dreadful, and that adds another layer of anxiety and oddness to an already un-fun series of days.

Anyway — last night I was Done. After a week of small meals, no alcohol, and regular exercise, I had nachos and two margaritas (after I ordered the second one, Mimosa said, "I guess you're giving up on your weight, huh?" Lippy girl) and a bowl of Ben and Jerry's AmeriCone Dream, which has about 3,000 calories, most of them from fat.

And this morning, of course, is Weigh-In Day.

And the final rotten cherry on this sundae of horrid is that my darling boy kittens, foul beasts that they are, have taken to pooping in my beautiful bathtub — randomly, no discernible pattern nor any clear reason. (They started doing it when I bought a bag of dry food that everyone hated, but that was months ago.) And the incidents are just far enough apart that I can be lulled into thinking that we're past this phase. The last time they did it was, I think, early June or possibly even May, and I truly thought it was over. But no — they left me a special gift last night. Jerks.

It was a banner morning, I tell ya.

So, a couple of things:
  • Having Weigh-In Day on Sunday morning is stupid and self-defeating. I work hard during the week; on the weekend I like to get my ya-yas out. (Ya Ya!) Weigh-In Day is now Friday
  • On my first weigh-in of the morning, I was at 253, up half a pound from last Sunday.
As scheduled, Mimosa and I took our run/walk, and I tried hard to shake off the lemons of my life and make some lemonade. I looked for Good Signs and found the following:
  • Before stepping on to the bike path, Professor John, Husband's BF, sped by on his bike with a cheery greeting for both of us. We love Professor John.
    A few steps in, two Madrigal parents rode by calling "Hi Lady C!" I said, "Did you see Mimosa?" (They've known her since preschool.) Madrigal Mom smiled warmly and said, "We sure did!" Madrigal Dad said, "Was that Mimosa? She's beautiful!" And that is always a nice thing for a mama to hear. 
  • The first song that came up on my iPod was Daughtry singing "Wanted: Dead or Alive," which I love.
All in all, a very nice start. And the heat wave has indeed broken, it's warm but lovely, and I walked my full 2.7 miles. We'll now do our chores in a pleasant climate, I'll have the whole afternoon to chill, and there's pizza to look forward to for dinner. (Tonight we're trying Andrina's Pizzeria and I'm voting for the Romano, the Melanzana, and the Fenway Classic.)

And when I came home from my walk, I sponged off the sweat and weighed myself again: 251.5, 251, and 250.5 (depending on where I put the scale).

You know what? I'm going with 251.5. This means I've lost a full pound since last week, which I honestly think is accurate.

I also have a new strategy (besides switching when I weigh in): Though I'm faithfully doing my zumba/walk/cardio/aerobic combo, I'm much less faithful about my weight-lifting and core work. I now have it on my calendar, three boxes of each to check off per week — it seems like a no-brainer but I haven't done it that way before, and this will help me, I think.

OK! Time to do chores — in 80-degree weather and dry air. Bliss.

—Lady C

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