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--Wait, What?

I started using the Couch to 5K app on my phone. The idea is for you to train to do 5k in 30 minutes. I've done the C25K thing before, but never on my phone. So there I am, my timer counting down (you didn't really think I did over two miles in fifteen minutes, did you?!), running along (okay, running for 60 seconds and then walking for 90. Leave me alone, I'm taking baby steps in my fight to not be fat here, mmmkay?), and my phone chimes to tell me I'm done.

Um, what?

According to my calculations, 2.18 miles is roughly 3.51 km. That's 1.49 km less than what I was trying to attain.

Even my phone app thinks I'm too much of a wimp to do a full 5k.

In Which I Dream of Killing Jillian Michaels

There is less than two months until my sister Jessi is getting married. This means that I will be stuffed into a halter style bridesmaid dress and three and a half inch heels, given a bouquet of flowers, and be forced to stand in front of a congregation of friends, family, and people I've never met.

Commence panic.

Now really, I let myself go a little. I put on about fifteen (okay, twenty) pounds since April, just from being lazy and not eating right...and too much beer.

So I planned this whole diet and exercise thing, and the first thing I did was get onto Amazon and find myself a workout DVD. I watched Biggest Loser for the first time this past season, and so I figured I would start there. It led me to Jillian Michaels.

While Jillian's face bothers me, there's no denying that the chick has an awesome body. So I bought it, and started yesterday. I also decided that I'd go back to the Couch to 5K program on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Match that with a 1500 kcal diet and I figured I'd be good.

Of course, because it's me, it didn't end up that way.

Y'all, this Shred in 30 is HARD. I think I'm fairly in shape, even for being slightly overweight. But Jillian kicked my ass up and down and then made me wish I was dead. Then my stupid ass went to the gym and attempted to do the C25K thing.

I was supposed to start with a brisk 5 minute walk and then alternate 60 seconds of jogging with 90 seconds of walking for twenty minutes.

I FAILED.

I was only able to jog for 2 of the sessions, and the sweat was pooling in that unfortunate spot between my boobs. I got a cramp in my side, and while I tried to do the whole "breathe like you're breathing through a straw" thing, I couldn't do it. I made it 20 minutes, and then had to give up.

And felt like an epic failure.

This morning, I attempted to hop out of bed, but I had to carefully ROLL off the bed, because my abdominal muscles are so freaking sore. During my short walk to the master bath, I realized that my ass cheeks were burning. Squats and lunges and jumping are just hateful to my glutes.

So we'll see how this goes. I am masochistic, so therefore I'll be doing it again when I get out of clinical today. I've packed my lunch for school (apples, cheese stick, half a pb sammich), I'm currently eating some apple and cinnamon oatmeal, and I put fat free creamer in my coffee. I can do this, right? It's only 25 pounds...

Right?

In Which I Decide To Make This A Lifestyle Change

I realize that it's been a week since the new year began.

I also realize that by now most people have given up on their resolutions.

It hit me last night: This isn't just a 2011 resolution. I want to become a healthier person for the rest of my life. It's really hard to take the first steps, but today, that's what I've done.

I started taking my medications again. As an almost nurse, I know I was wrong in stopping them, but as an insecure woman, I didn't want the stigma of being labeled as "crazy". Over the past several days I've come to the realization that depression and anxiety are diseases and I need to treat them as such, regardless of what people think. I'm not crazy, I just have a chemical imbalance and I live a very stressful life between going to school, working, raising two children and being a supportive wife to a husband who works 14 hours overnight in a position that he's very new to. I'm also a daughter, a sister and a friend who prides herself on being there for anyone whenever they need me.

So meds were the first step. Working out is the next. I'm heading to the gym after I get off the computer. Five days a week, no excuses. I'm going to start going to 90 degree yoga once a week. I loved going to yoga when I was doing it with my best friend Dejan, but somehow we fell out of it. I figure that I love yoga, and I already sweat like a pig, so I might as well have a reason for sweating (note to self: buy clinical strength deodorant/antiperspirant).

Yet another step is taking the starches out of my diet. No rice, no potatoes, no pasta (GAH!), no bread (DOUBLE GAH!) and NO BEER (kill me now). It just goes straight to my stomach and since the hubs and I will be going to the beach for our 8th anniversary in May, I'd really like to be able to wear a bikini. Bikini=goal. Add into that that I will be a bridesmaid in not one but TWO weddings this year, it would make me really happy to actually look good in my bridesmaid dresses (though I know I won't be nearly as beautiful as my best friend Christie and sister Jessi, of course).

Mostly, I just want to stop hating myself when I look in the mirror. It was suggested to me that I write a list of 10 things that I like about myself in dry erase marker on my bathroom so I can remind myself of that every day. I came up with three things...that can't be a good thing. I'm hoping to slowly but surely add to that list.

Let the start of self-discovery commence.

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 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 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 Have A Wardrobe Malfunction

I love my daughter. Can I just say that? She's amazing, even though she is the reason I got fat in the first place. Though I'm not really sure if I can blame an 85 pound weight gain on a 10 pound baby.

Lindsey recently came home from New Hampshire where she was visiting family, so I told her we'd have a special day for her, where she could pick what we did and what we ate. My evil daughter chose to have taco salad and Mommy's super secret special sugar cookies. Taco salad: the only kind of salad that could have 1300 calories on one plate and my cookies, which are made with two sticks of butter and smothered in buttercream frosting. FML.

So, I asked myself, WWTLD? (remember, what would Taylor Lautner do?) and I had a salad, one soft shelled taco made with ground turkey instead of beef and an apple frosted with peanut butter. WOOT.

Okay, so there is one thing I learned today. There are two words that do not belong in a gym full of people.

Wardrobe malfunction.

So, after I fed my children the cookies and effectively hyped up the two kids with ridiculous amounts of sugar, I left them bouncing off the walls under the supervision of their father and went to the gym. I had to bring clothes to change into, and I felt comfortable enough to wear shorts today. I'm not really sure if it was the 4 pounds of water weight I've taken off, or the fact that my other workout clothes were dirty and I was too lazy to wash clothes last night.

Anyway. So, I go into the bathroom and change, then hop onto the elliptical that isn't so evil anymore. We're coming to a kind of agreement, the elliptical and I. So, I've got my buds in, I'm rocking out to the Black Eyed Peas when this lady taps me on the arm. I pull out a bud and look at her, and she says quietly to me,

"Ma,am, your shorts are caught in your underpants. Your bottom is hanging out."

OMG. Instant red. I mumbled something as I adjusted myself, and after i finished my workout, I got out of there as quickly as I could.

Note to self: Never go to the gym at 1:00 ever again. I won't be able to show my face. Or my ass cheek.

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.