In Which I Begin to Sweat...A Lot

Recently I've had some problems with hormone levels. My estrogen levels are low, my testosterone levels are high, evidenced by the ridiculous amounts of sweat, the mysterious random patches of hair in places where hair does not belong on a woman, and (I'm really sorry to any of my family reading this) an extremely increased sex drive.

These three things prove one thing: I'm turning into a man.

I of course immediately contacted my physician and was seen by the extremely attractive doctor that I have had for the past seven years. He's seen me through pap smears, well checks, UTIs, two pregnancies and now this (I think he needs a raise).

He decided that rather than put me on hormones, he wanted to try a diuretic. Those of you not familiar, a diuretic gets rid of excess fluid in the body...which I don't have, but one of the side effects is a decrease in hair growth.

How does the excess water come out?

In urine...and lots and lots of sweat.

Took first pill today and I believe I've spent more time in the bathroom today than I have spent in the past four months that we've lived here. It's like every freaking two minutes I have to pee. It's almost as bad as when I was 15 1/2 months pregnant and larger than a house with a bladder the size of a pea.

Almost.

In Which I Say Screw The Gym

It is Monday freaking morning. I hate Mondays. It means that I have to wait another week before I get to watch football again, another week until I get to spend hours with my children, and another week until I get to sleep in past five thirty.

Stupid Mondays.

I decided that I was going to skip to the gym today. There are so many reasons that I'm rationalizing in my head: I don't have any clean gym clothes, my back hurts, it's raining, my contacts aren't going in today, and I'm feeling a cold coming on. I should go to the gym because I totally binged on cookies this weekend (Keebler is the devil) but...no.

Whine, whine, whine. Bitch, bitch, bitch.

I had to get the kids to school (and of course the bus was late), and now I'm going to sit my fat ass on the couch and work before my friend comes to pick me up for class.

Someone told me I need to stop being so negative all the time. Okay, so let's try this again. I got to sleep until 5:45 this morning. I got snuggles from a baby boy. My ass is decidedly smaller, so I will sit my not-so-fat ass on the couch now. And because the bus was late, I got to see that super hot daddy putting his kid on the other bus that comes here. Om nom nom.

On that note, maybe I should go to the gym...

In Which I Do Not Die

Today was the second day of this five week period of nursing classes. For those of you who do not know me in real life, I am a first year nursing student. The school that I go to does their program in five week sections, so I have three "classes" in one semester. This means I am doing the same amount of work in one five week section as a student in a four year program does in their one semester. Doesn't exactly seem fair, eh? Oh well.

Anyway, so second day of class. Yesterday was the first, and my husband had to work, so I made the decision to wake up at 0400 to go to the gym. I was so tired when I got there that the entire workout was just half-ass. Burned about 250 calories in 45 minutes. Not bad, but not great.

Today, even though I tried, I just could not get out of the bed at 0400. So I got up at 5;30 and got the kids ready for school, then went to class myself. But class was only til noon, so I went right after class.

My treadmill was taken, but my sheer rage that came up was quickly soothed by the friendly man who was working out with me. He actually lives in the same building as I do, just on the third floor. I've seen him around, but never had the chance to really talk to him. We had a wonderful half hour of conversation while I killed myself on the e-is-for-extreme-lliptical. We discussed the weather, how much I miss New Hampshire, my kids, my school, what he did for a living before being retired, politics...it was nice to have a workout buddy. He even praised me for my workout skillz.

I love this man.

So anyway, after my new buddy finished his workout, I hit the weights (figuratively) and grunted over my now 20 reps instead of 10. I am upping the ante, as they say. 20 pounds at 20 reps for all my arm exercises, 70 pounds at 20 reps for my legs (people always comment on my fantastic calves. not exactly what I would like to be complimented on, but I'll take what I can get).

After the weights, I went to the treadmill. The treadmill and I have a love-hate relationship. I love the way I feel after I work out. I'm energized, I feel like I can take on the world, and I see the calories shedding away via that little kcal counter. However, I feel like my knees are going to fall off, that my ass might begin flapping in the wind, and when I look down I can see my thighs jiggling if I'm wearing shorts. I suppose that I just choose to look at the positive and try not to peek down at my thunder thighs.

So I get on there, and I'm doing a warm up, get bored with the 2 mph walk, bump it up to 4 mph, then get bored with that and start a jog. I don't know what mph I was running, I was too busy trying not to fall and remembering how my father taught me to breathe (in-in, out-out) that I wasn't focused on that. But I'm listening to Taio Cruz's "Break Your Heart", The Veronica's Untouched, and Joan Jett's Bad Reputation and I'm running like my head is on fire and my ass is catching. Finally I look down and I see that I've done a mile...IN LESS THAN TWELVE MINUTES!!

Commence celebration. I'll wait while you do the "Beckie Happy Dance".

Granted, it was a 11:54 mile, but that's the fastest I've ever done a mile! Finally, it seems all this hard work is paying off. I did however, have a mocha frappe and a cinnamon melt with my best friend before class this morning, but I am trying to avoid the feelings of guilt I have over that.

Life is good.

In Which I Learn a Valuable Lesson

Today Dan had to work, so I went through the early morning chaos alone, which always sucks. Get the kids up, eating breakfast, get their clothes, tie their shoes, assure daughter that the reason her tummy hurts is just because she doesn't want to go to school, make sure everyone has their backpacks, clean up breakfast, fight with daughter to brush her hair, cuddle the boy who doesn't want to leave Mommy, find my keys, grab a Slim-Fast, realize that I'm naked, get dressed and throw contacts in, find sunglasses, lose keys, find iPod for workout, tie my sneakers, tear up house looking for keys, remember my phone is on the charger, then realize that the keys are in my hand all before 0645 when my daughter has to be on the bus.

An extremely organized friend of mine wants to come and organize my life because organizing makes her happy. I told her good luck.

Anyway. So after I dropped both my kids off I went to the gym. When I was hurrying to get dressed, I put on my gray yoga pants because I haven’t done laundry so all my clothes are dirty because I wanted to. In doing this, I learned some VERY VALUABLE LESSONS today during my workout.

Lesson Number 1: Girls sweat. This isn't like the movies where the skinny girls get off their treadmill and come off smelling like roses. I'm freaking drenched and no flower would ever wish to smell like I do right now.

Lesson Number 2: When you go to workout, bring a towel with you. Said sweat leaves marks on the gym equipment and then you're stuck wiping it with your shirt, hoping that no one sees you.

Lesson Number 3: Do not wear gray yoga pants to work out when you sweat like a 350 pound man because it will look like you peed your pants. Case in point...


Lesson Number 4: Even if you have been working out for over a month, this is no reason to attempt to run at an incline of 7% at 8mph. If you do, this will happen...

You will die.

Dear Mom, if you are reading this, please send some new workout shorts, maybe a tank top or two, and some clinical strength, maximum power antiperspirant. Love, your sweaty daughter.

In Which An Old Guy Tells Me I Have A Nice Ass

After yesterday's startling discovery of being less than 180 pounds, I was pumped. I figured that I had to keep it up because my goal of 165 pounds is within reaching distance. I vowed to keep on the veggie diet, to continue going to the gym and resisting the yumminess that is everything in the Publix bakery.

I was up and at 'em early, dropping the kids off at the bus stop and daycare, trying to restrain from doing the now patented 'Beckie Happy Dance' as I pulled out of my son's daycare parking lot. I went home and sucked down a Slim-Fast so as to have something to work off, fooled around on facebook, played a round of 'The Price is Right', then headed to the gym. Try as I may, I didn't make it there before 9am.

Not getting to the gym before 9am meant one thing. The office was open. One of the downsides with working out at my apartment complex gym during office hours is that the staff does periodic tours with interested residents-to-be. The other downside is that both girls who work in the office are ridiculously thin. I'd kill to have either of their bodies, though one of them has a nasty girl-stashe. Wax that crap, woman!

But I digress.

So I'm literally running my ass off on the treadmill (I'm taking a break from the elliptical) and super slender non-stashe office chick comes into the gym, giving this old guy wearing shorts and black socks pulled halfway up his calf a tour. I pull one earbud out of my ear, trying to be respectful and say hello even though Muse's Uprising is blasting out of the tiny ear piece and I'm running with a 4% incline at 6 mph. Here's what happened:

Office chick: This is our gym, which is open 24 hours a day for our residents. This is Beckie, one of our residents who is here often.

Me: Hi, how are you?

Old guy: Doing better than you, I guess. Keep it up honey, soon your thighs will be as nice as your ass.

Me: ...

Office chick: Right. So the model apartment is right this way...

Awkward much? Such is my life.

In Which I Cry In Happiness

Let's face it. I have an almost two year old son. His favorite pastimes include eating Reese's Puffs cereal ("ball cereal"--that's a whole other story that I'm going to have to clear up when he gets older. I don't want him to think it's okay to eat balls for breakfast), trashing the house, tormenting his sister and taking baths. While in the bath, his goal is to get as much water as possible out of the bathtub and onto the bathroom floor.

Alas, my digital scale was a fatality in the carnage that was leftover after one of his tsunamis.

I've been too broke to get a new one, because let's face it, it's not like I'm getting paid to do these clinicals, which really blows because I'm essentially doing the nurse's work. Let's just say that when I'm a nurse, I'll love having nursing students with me.

Anywho, so after dropping the kids off at school, I headed to Wal-Mart (aka Hell-Mart) and searched the store for a scale. Of course, my local Hell-Mart is in the middle of a remodel and the scales are no longer where they used to be. I spent fifteen minutes in the freaking store trying to find the aisle that held the bane of my existence. I finally found it in the Automotive section (WTF?!) and proceeded to be astonished by the cost of scales.

THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS FOR A FLIPPING PIECE OF CRAP SCALE?!?!?!

You've gotta be kidding me.

After pawing through the poorly marked scales, I finally found one that didn't measure my BMI and record all my weights, because let's face it, I don't really wanna know. So I get up to the register and of course, it doesn't have a scan tag on it. I waited at customer service for ten minutes so they could find another scale with a UPC on it. Grr.

So I finally get home with my scale and impulse buy of cherry chapstick, and I do the ritual of taking off all the clothes, emptying the bladder of those few precious ounces and step on the new scale of wicked. Look down and...

177.4 pounds!!!!

Oh, happy day! This means that I have lost 23 pounds (give or take) in the past seven weeks! I'm sure that I can thank the side effects of Prozac and Ativan for my weight loss (for some strange reason I got the rare weight loss compared to the more common weight gain of the meds) but I think I can give myself a pat on the back too. I mean, I've dieted, I've suffered through the SlimFast shakes in the morning, been doing the vegetarian diet for five days and not cheated once even though there is bacon in the fridge, and drank enough water to keep a camel hydrated for two years. I've fought the elliptical and treadmill every day. I think I can rejoice from this.

It's just hard not to celebrate with a Bud Light Lime and Chinese food...

In Which I Forget To Blog

Okay, so...i fail epically because i just forget that i have blogs. i go into them thinking...YES! a new thing to do, i'm so excited, let's play, blah blah blah. I had a shit load of stuff go on last week blah blah blah...but hopefully I'm back.

Well, kind of back, because I died a little today. Want to know why?



Yeah, a friend of mine sent me this picture wishing me luck on a test. Thanks to this, I promptly forgot everything I was doing...which at the time was not a good thing, seeing as how I was at the time cooking low-fat, low cal cookies. They burned because I was still sitting at my desktop drooling. I managed to save the next batch, but once I tasted them I realized that I shouldn't mourn the first batch. They were god-awful.

Sooo, my diet. It's going well. It's been five and a half weeks, and I'm down to 182 pounds, so that's 19 pounds from where I started. That's impressive. I've been pretty good about the gym, I think I might have missed one day? Two? And I'm stepping it up, both literally and psychologically. I bumped the evil-liptical to level 16 out of 25. For like...seven whole minutes. I got home an hour ago and I'm still trying to catch my breath. I thought my legs were going to fall off when I stepped off the machine. I stumbled around like a drunken monkey for a full minute, trying to get all the blood back to where it should be.

Thank God no one else was at the gym. I was able to gather my sweat while watching Grey's Anatomy in peace. I'd missed like the last season and a half of Grey's so as I'm grunting in exertion at my badass level of the elipti-satan, I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. AND...I also realized that TayLau would make an excellent Doogie Howser-like doctor on Grey's. I should have my people call his people.If I had people, they could call his, anyway.

In Which I Say "HOLY CRAP!"

Holy shitnuggets, Batman!

I started this weight loss program one month ago, and while I decided I'd do a weekly weigh-in so I wouldn't stress myself out too much, I'd kind of gone lax on it. So when I woke up today on the dreaded weigh in day, I padded into the master bathroom where the digital scale stands. Normally I cower from it. I try to not look at it, pretend it isn't there. But today, that scale was going down.

I did everything I could to make sure that I had lost weight. I did ten jumping jacks. I took off all my clothes. I made sure I didn't have to poop. Finally, I realized that I had to get on the damn scale or I was going to be late for clinical, a huge no-no in the life of a nursing student.

I stepped on the scale, eyes closed, pleading with God and any other deity that was watching that I had at least lost SOME weight. Finally, I realized that I had to look down because this scale was not going to read itself.

I lost FIFTEEN pounds! Amazing! I'm so stoked. I happy danced on the scale. It was awkward and ungraceful, and after I was done I looked around to make sure that my husband hadn't seen me, which fortunately he hadn't.

WOOT!