In Which I Am Insane With Insanity

Here lies the sweaty Beckie Young
who keeled over like a piece of dung.
She wanted to work out
despite the feelings of doubt
and now she is dead on the floor.

I started Insanity today. I didn't start the diet yet, as I had to get all the shit that was left over from when Amanda and Evan visited out of the house (read: in my digestive system) and go to the grocery store.

Did my measurements (what the crap, when did I get flabby again?) and weighed myself. After talking myself out of hanging myself over the number that flashed on the satanic scale, I did the Fit Test, which apparently you're supposed to do every so often so you can see how much better you're getting as the time goes by.

I made it halfway before I ended up on the floor like this. Cue twitchy lungs, the need for albuterol, excessive (even for me) sweating, and the urge to curl into the fetal position and pretend that I never spent $80 on that workout again.

So we all know that I'll be doing it again tomorrow.

In Which I Overindulged

I met my original goal this past year and then promptly gained twenty-five pounds back.

I am ashamed.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and I took full advantage of the chocolate, the heart shaped doughnuts, the hibatchi lunch, the steak dinner with a bottle of wine and cake balls dipped in chocolate.

I'm paying for it now.

Not only am I sick as hell from all that fat, but I don't fit in my skinny pants anymore. I have two pairs of pants that fit and don't make me feel like an Ice Road Trucker needs to be putting an "Oversize Load" sign on my rear end.


Why yes, yes I do have an unhealthy obsession with Ice Road Truckers. Disregard this level of nerdiness (more like AWESOMENESS).

In other news, my sister got herself a boyfriend. Even more shocking, I adore her boyfriend. He's at almost the same level of epic as I am. 98% to my 100%. Anyway, the two of them will be visiting next month and so he and I agreed to a friendly bet. Biggest Loser. Let's do this, Evan.

In Which I Curse The Holidays

It is what every dieter hates to see. Turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie. Ham, macaroni and cheese, corn, pecan pie. Chocolate in the stocking. Birthday cake on my birthday, which falls between the two holidays.Tons of alcohol and appetizers at my best friend's house to ring in the new year.

I have gained twelve pounds in the past 6 weeks. And my ass has grown from the size of Rhode Island to the size of Texas. My double chin is coming back and my spare tire has gone from a bicycle tire to that of a monster truck.

Enough self-hatred and beating myself up. Time to do something about it.

The good thing is that right after the holidays, New Year’s comes. I usually make several resolutions, which haven’t always been achieved in the past, but this year, actually got done. I finished my book. I lost a crap ton of weight. Forty-five pounds, to be exact. That’s a lot of weight. The size of a small child, at the least. I started being more active. I got into nursing school and have done well so far.

Even with the weight gain, I’m really only 15 pounds from my ultimate goal. It was suggested to me to try out Insanity, a DVD workout, which I’ve heard can leave people vomiting and wishing to die.

Sounds perfect.

In Which I Feel Better From Looking At Pictures

This is Fat Beckie, from March of 2008. Yuck.

This is skinny Beckie from October 2010.

WOW.

In Which The Wagon Runs Over Me

Beckie's diet=EPIC FAIL

I don't even want to talk about it.

What I do want to talk about is that this is only a minor setback, I think. I'm going to Hell-Mart to go buy a new scale (I returned the other one, it broke...guess how THAT made me feel), buy some more Slim-Fast, fill the Halloween candy dish with apples that we picked yesterday at the orchard instead of the yummy goodness that is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (mmmmmmm) and start hitting the gym...hard.

While browsing around at Goodwill (don't judge, you know you do it too), I found 4 new pairs of workout shorts/capris (no more wardrobe malfunctions! YAY!), some tops, and the "Thighs of Steel" dvd. And a yoga one too.

Plus, I went to the doctor and he told me some bullshit about how exercising releases endorphins and so I'll both feel better physically and mentally and yadda, yadda, yadda, and then actually prescribed to me that I work out for an hour and a half five times a week, then to at least walk for a 1/2 hour those other two days.

Seriously dude???

We'll see how long this lasts. But depending on what the newest evil scale tells me tomorrow morning, I only have about 15-20 pounds left to reach my goal of 160.

If I don't reach it, it'll be time to talk to the plastic surgeon. I hear they do payment plans.

In Which I Fall Off The Wagon

Stress.

It happens to all of us, and everyone deals with it in different ways.

Me, I eat.

I do not even want to say how appalled I am over what I have gorged myself on. Let's just say that Better Cheddars, baked beans, raw cookie dough, Krispy Kremes that may or may not have been stolen by me yesterday at clinical (really, if you don't want to share them, don't leave them in the break room), Big Macs and mocha frappes somehow entered my digestive tract.

Oops.

I have vowed that I will get back on track tomorrow. Back to the land of vast amounts of water, shitty low fat cookies and to the eeeeevil elliptical.

*mad face*

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 Am Thankful To Work From Home...Most Of The Time

Day ??? of my diet? The days are meshing together. Lack of food is taking over all thoughts and making me do crazy things.

You know how they always say "Don't go to the grocery store when you're hungry"? Yeah. Wanna know what is worse? Working at a grocery store for 8.5 hours scanning food items while you're dieting. I did that about this time last year. You see all this food and you're like, hmmm, chips. Ooo, sushi. OMG CAKE. By the end of the shift you're about ready to eat a roll of toilet paper and chug down some lysol just so you can have something to eat.

Now I work from home when I'm not slaving away at nursing school. While it's great because I can sit in my pajamas and work, it blows big time because it's not like I'm restricted from the refrigerator. It's right over there in my kitchen. In fact, I can see it right now. And I know that there is some french onion dip and some ruffles in that kitchen somewhere. It's taking all the willpower that I have to keep my ass firmed planted on this couch.

Taylor Lautner would be so proud of me right now.

In Which I Avoid The Candy

I had spent some time last night searching ‘Elliptical Machine Training for Beginners Who Are Fat’ while I noshed on my low-fat, low-calorie, low-taste organic granola bar. I was proud to show off the new skills I had learned via Goggle’s search engine to another gym rat who was also burning the calories this morning. As I attempted to discuss the merits of different levels, the bottle blond rolled her eyes at me and moved to a machine further away from me. Whatever, I thought to myself as I pushed my sweatband up my forehead and put the buds to my iPod to my ears so I could listen to ‘Mickey’ by Toni Basil. That crazy bitch just didn’t realize how cool I am. She wishes she could be as epic as me.

After the 30 minutes of torture, I stumbled into my apartment and collapsed on my couch, disregarding the fact that I was covered in a sheen of my own sweat. I pushed my falling glasses up the slope of my damp and oily nose and my eyes honed in on the smiley faced Jack O Lantern candy dish sitting on the entertainment center. Don't ask why I have a Halloween dish out in August. I can't tell you. Anyway, I quickly averted my gaze of longing and instead tried to focus on getting my breathing to a regular pace. My eyes wandered back to the candy dish. Damn that pumpkin. His smile was mocking me. I could hear the Snickers bars that I had stuffed inside three days ago calling my name.

Beckie…Beckie…

I rose from my seat, leaving a wet spot in my wake, and started to close the distance to the candy jar. I stopped myself and thought “I don’t need this. Hmm. I wonder, what would TayLau do?” So instead of eating a candy dish full of Snickers, I drank a half gallon of water, did some karate kicks, injured myself while trying to stand on my hands, and watched his New Moon preview, so I could get some hints on how to brag about my 30 pound weight difference.

In Which I Decide To Stop Being A Fatty McFatty

Thanks to having two children, mad cooking skillz and being a nursing student with no time to cook, I may or may not have gained a lot of freaking weight since the age of eighteen. It's now seven years later and I am still carrying around this crazy nasty weight.

I make myself sick.

After looking in the mirror today while I was naked and choking back the vomit, I realized that I have got to lose some weight because this is just ridiculous. Some weight being like about 30 pounds, give or take. If I lose 2 pounds a week, I can reach my goal in time for New Year's Eve-ish. The decision was made. Join me in my journey out of stretchy pants and into some pants with writing on the butt, because I’ve always been too scared of my fat ass to wear them.