"I've decided that perhaps I'm bulimic and just keep forgetting to purge."

-- Paula Poundstone

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

A word from my dear friend

[caption id="attachment_472262" align="alignright" width="108" caption="My very smart friend."][/caption]

While I'm on a short sabbatical from motivating you (and myself), I thought maybe you'd like to read some true inspiration from one of my dearest friends.

If you have anything you're wanting to change, read this.

Monday, December 13, 2010

I accept that challenge … in a few weeks

[caption id="attachment_472238" align="alignright" width="344" caption="What do you do when your ass hurts at 4:30 a.m.? Pway bwocks."][/caption]

Ah, life. You little … poopy head.

I wanted to say "you little bitch," but the word "ass" in my Facebook status over the weekend prompted a note from my high school French teacher that he doesn't appreciate my use of "nasty words" in my updates.

I wanted to say "pardon my French," but I just let it be.

Good lord, what's with all this self-censorship? That's not me. Especially on my own blog. That shit stops right now.

So, it's 5:17 a.m. as I write this, and my 2-year-old is on the couch next to me watching "Thomas the Train." Evidently that's what you do when your little butt hurts so bad you can't sleep, right after a riveting game of blocks at 4:30 a.m.

"Sit. Let's pway bwocks, Mitty." How can you say no to that, even if you're puzzled as to why your toddler is suddenly calling you by your first name?

The poor little guy has had several days of diarrhea likely caused by this latest round of antibiotics for his chronic ear problems, which has led to a violent case of diaper rash. He screams and shakes when we change his diaper right now, so I'm staying home with him today.

Honestly, he hasn't had diaper rash this bad since we ended up in the hospital ER last New Year's Eve with the rash and "mysterious bruising" that turned out to be the blue and green dye from the Mickey and Minnie Mouse on his Huggies staining his thighs.

Seriously. Does this crap happen only to me?

[caption id="attachment_472240" align="alignright" width="389" caption="This is Alan. He's gonna lose."][/caption]

Which brings me to the point of this post … ah, yes. Life being a little bitch. It keeps getting in the way right now, and I pretty much came to a complete stop on all weight loss efforts (yes, again) right after Thanksgiving.

Never fear … I'll be back. If for no other reason than that I can't back down from a challenge.

While I was out with my dear pal Alan over the weekend, we were playing shuffleboard at the bar, and he happened to mention to another friend that I'm one of the most competitive people he knows. (Confession: I probably should be medicated or at least receive counseling for the things I turn into competitions.)

Talk later turned to weight loss, and he said that's the only thing I won't compete with him on.

I'll admit, he has challenged me to some sort of weight loss contest a couple of times recently, and I have declined. I just haven't been in the right mindset.

But I am accepting the challenge, and we will begin with the New Year.

Well, I must go. Since I started writing this, we've switched to "Casper" and then "Tom and Jerry." And it's about time to again tend to the "owie" on my son's ass.

Pardon my French.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

A completely logical sequence of thoughts

[caption id="attachment_472234" align="alignright" width="202" caption="No girdle needed for this turkey. She looks fab."][/caption]

I just went in to update my Results page to indicate the number of hours of kickboxing is now 18.

That made me think about 18-hour bras.

And that made me think that I really need a new sports bra to wear to the gym. Heavier dutier.

And that made me think about my conversation at the gym with my bud Kristy about how I really need to wear a girdle while working out because my stomach is just as bouncy and reckless as my boobs.

And that made me think about how bad girdles suck. Like tight pants.

And that made me think about wearing stretchy pants for Thanksgiving.

And that made me think HOLY CRAP! Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

And so, I wish you the happiest of Thanksgivings. I hope you have much to be thankful for.

I love you all.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Rescue me … from this damn scale

[caption id="attachment_472225" align="alignright" width="224" caption="He sees dead people."][/caption]

I’m trying not to put as much importance on the scale these days, mainly because it drives me insane.

Like this morning before the gym.

I stepped on with FIVE great workouts behind me the previous week (2 Body Sculpt, 2 kickboxing, 1 treadmill), and … nothing.

The damn thing is not moving.

I’ll admit I’m pretty lax on my diet right now, but c’mon. I worked my ass off last week.

There were aching parts of my body throughout the week that I had forgotten I even have.

But that’s OK. I’m feeling stronger. More coordinated. Accomplished.

I know the weight will come off when I get strict on my diet again, which I will do.

For now, my body is getting stronger, and that is important. My lungs, heart and mood are benefitting, too.

I did start a new “thing.” My pal Alan had loaded my computer with the first season of the FX series “Rescue Me.”

I hadn’t had time to start watching it, but I made a rule for myself that I can watch it when I’m walking the treadmill.

The first episode Saturday got me through 3 miles!

Whatever works, eh?

Have a great week.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

First time? Pshaw.

[caption id="attachment_472217" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Someone sketched this. It was not me. I would've given him a shirt. Or nipples. "][/caption]

So, I'm at the gym this morning, and we have to do the so-called "invisible chair" against the wall.

My legs quickly started their burn and shake, and the lady next to me said, "This your first time doing this?"

"Uh, no," I answered, my mind immediately rewinding a couple of decades to the dreaded Physical Fitness Tests in junior high and sports practices in high school.

"I should be a lot better at it than I am," I said with a laugh.

Ah well. The best part about it? It's over.

What have you done today?

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Up and at ‘em

[caption id="attachment_472211" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Good morning, sunrise. I totally beat your ass today."][/caption]

Last night, my 2-year-old started this cute little thing where he holds up a letter in the colorful, spongy alphabet he plays with in the bath, asks you what letter it is, and then – no matter how you answer – says, “Good job!”

If you’ve ever had a 2-year-old, you know it’s something new and exciting and absolutely amazing almost every day.

That’s why coming home from work and going straight to the gym is rough for me. I hate missing those little moments.

Well, that and the fact that it’s also hard to get anything else done, like dinner or laundry or whatever.

Plus, I’ve gotta be honest. When I get home, it’s hard for me to pull my butt back out of the house. I just wanna get into my comfy clothes and be done with it, especially now that it’s colder outside.

On Monday night, I went to Body Sculpt, and last night I went to kickboxing. But this morning, I managed to be back at the gym at 5:45.

Man, it feels good. By 7 a.m., I am back home and finished with my workout for the day.

Endorphins activated, and nothing to dread all day.

I’m hoping to make this my new routine.

I think my son would say, “Good job!”

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Don’t touch me

[caption id="attachment_472207" align="alignright" width="224" caption="Pile of pain."][/caption]

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

Holy shizznit.

I started throwing some Body Sculpt classes into my routine last night.

My arms were shaky as I lifted my hands to the steering wheel to drive home last night. And this morning, I feel like I’ve been tackled by the entire Detroit Lions defensive line.

(You hush. The defensive line is actually good this season. I’m certain their tackles hurt.)

As you can see from the picture, I had excellent intentions during class with 3-, 5- and 8-pound weights.

By the end, however, I was doing all 3-pounders and secretly wondering if anyone would notice if I just did the motions with no weights.

I kept the weights, however, after gym owner Gary yelled, “Heyyyy! Misty’s back!”

Hard to hide after that.

I also learned a valuable Mom Tip yesterday morning: If your 2-year-old runs to you yelling, “Ewww, gwoss!” do NOT smell his finger.

Have a good day.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Love thyself?

[caption id="attachment_472201" align="alignright" width="300" caption="I stole this picture of Kristy from Facebook."][/caption]

I went to kickboxing with my good friend Kristy again last night. Something about her being there with me makes it suck so much less.

That's why I'm completely bummed that she is dumping me for a personal trainer.

What? My profuse sweating and incessant whining aren't inspirational? Pshaw!

Oh, well. I understand. And I wish her the best of luck. This crap is hard.

But I'm disturbed by my realization yesterday. I realized that I can totally let myself down, but I don't want to let down my loved ones.

So whenever Kristy said she'd be at kickboxing, I was there, too.

Now, I feel a little scared. Or pessimistic. I have only myself to answer to.

And "myself" has gotten quite used to my letdowns.

Why do I care more about others than myself? Why is accountability to myself not as important?

Something to ponder over the weekend. Have a good one, folks.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Crossroads

"Courage is being scared to death - and saddling up anyway."

— John Wayne


I can't stop crying. It's been that way a few days. The last time I really remember crying this much was back at the end of the summer of 1999.

I was wrapping up my summer internship at The Journal, and they had offered me a full-time job. You'd think I would have been happy, but I couldn't stop crying.

It was the only real offer I had at the time, and I was flat broke. I knew I really had no other option, and that I was never going home to Kentucky again. I knew there was a very good chance it could mean the end for me and my boyfriend (now husband), who was still in Kentucky.

Most of all, I knew things were changing. They would never be the same again.

I feel like I'm at that moment again in my life, 11 years later. I'm standing at a crossroads.

Change is necessary. It's here.

I just don't know what to change or where to go.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Oh, sister

[caption id="attachment_472174" align="alignright" width="191" caption="Peace be with y'all."][/caption]

Good lord.

I should consult a calendar before I declare to the masses (all 14 of you) that I am going to start dieting and exercising again.

Did you know last week was Halloween? With buckets of candy plus a Halloween party? Plus two birthday parties? With CAKE?

So despite my near-death experiences at the gym, I managed to gain a pound for the week. Yes, gain.

I guess it would’ve been worse without the workouts, but sheesh.

Speaking of Halloween, wasn’t I just lovely as a nun?

Here’s how I chose that costume: “Hmm,” I thought as I perused the selections at the Halloween superstore. “What do we have here?

“Slutty, slutty, slutty, slutty, tarp-like.
“I’ll take this tarp-like nun costume, please.”

Next year, by God, I’m going slutty.

So, let’s talk about the rest of this year. Having now consulted that magical calendar, I see Thanksgiving is a mere three weeks away. And then there’s Christmas.

We’re entering mass noshing season, people.

It would be really easy for me to close up shop here and say it’s helpless and I’ll see you at the beginning of the year.

But I’m not doing that.

I’m still hitting the gym (I have witnesses), and I’m gonna be sensible about what I’m eating (once I detox from all this Halloween candy).

Having never been sane, I try to imagine what sane people do in these situations. And I’ve come to this conclusion (though a sane person can correct me if I’m wrong): They don’t look at the impending holidays as helpless situations.

They realize that we have a good three weeks until then to lose some weight, and then enjoy themselves at Thanksgiving. And then they’d get right back to kicking ass until Christmas, enjoy themselves then, and then get right back to kicking ass again.

So, that’s my plan. This is not helpless.

I can do it.

Join me?

Friday, October 29, 2010

Elvira has to go

[caption id="attachment_472170" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Daniel Evans, you so crazy."][/caption]

One of the many things I love about my job is what I call the Ohno “benefits package.”

We get hand-me-down toys and such for our kids. We get to play musical “Name That Year” during the day.

We might even close up shop early some days for deep thoughts over a sip of fine beer.

But one of the best parts is when they cook for us. Breakfast some days, lunch many days.

This week, Elvira has been cooking for us during her visit. Elvira is boss Michael’s German mom.

Elvira’s visit couldn’t have come during a worse time – my “get back to it” time.

Not that I don’t appreciate every delicious morsel she’s cooked. I do. Greatly.

But I stepped on the scale this morning, and it’s not heading the direction it should be. Even Michael mentioned that he’s gained 4 pounds since she’s been here.

So, Elvira, I love you. But my rump is glad you visit only a couple of times a year.

Speaking of my rump: I took this picture of the gym wall after kickboxing class last night.

If what it says is true, I still have an incredible amount of weakness in my body – probably trapped in my fat rolls.

I hurt in my arms and my legs. And my stomach. And my ass. And my hair.

TGIF, eh?

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Bull!

[caption id="attachment_472165" align="alignright" width="300" caption="BOGO bull ride. Score."][/caption]

After I debuted the site yesterday, Memphis friend Kristina asked via Facebook what will be the next item I mark off my Bucket List.

Probably riding a mechanical bull, I answered.

In no time, I got a text with this photo from Kalamazoo friend Penny, saying this Wild Bull coupon is for me when I'm ready to head to the west side of Michigan.

I'm a sucker for a road trip. Even bigger sucker for a coupon.

So sometime between now and the coupon expiration date of March 1, 2011, I'm coming for you, El Guapo.

Prepare to meet your maker.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

I've moved!

Thanks for stopping by. You can find my new home here.

Back at it

[caption id="attachment_472155" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Kristy feels strong after our workout. I’m trying not to fall over on her."][/caption]

Welcome to my new home, still officially “Misty Is Losing it” but informally “Misty 2: Electric Boogaloo.”

I’m excited to have an entire site dedicated to my pursuits. Feel free to look around. I have lots of ideas for the site but little time, so have patience with me.

Eventually you’ll see pages for recipes, grocery products, advice for dining out and more. Maybe even a spot devoted for “before and after” pictures, though I’m still a ways off from that.

So, where exactly am I?

Well, after a few months of debauchery and an overall lack of healthy effort, I’m surprised and happy to report that I have kept off a total of 35 pounds.

Not too shabby, but I’ve got a long way to go. So, I’m back at it.

Last night, I hit the gym for the first time in way longer than I care to admit. With me was my longtime Michigan pal Kristy, who started back to her own workout routine last week.

We went to kickboxing class. I almost died.

At one point giving me the advice to breathe through my nose, Kristy then followed up with “Don’t pass out, and don’t throw up!”

Maybe my face changing to unnatural colors was disconcerting?

At the end of class during ab work, I was lying in my own sweat pool when I actually said the words, “Kristy, I’m just gonna have to live here. Go. Save yourself.”

I somehow survived, and I was back on the treadmill for 2 miles this morning.

And so my journey continues. So glad you’re here.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

I still need my Momma

I miss Momma today.

I was just reading my friend Nancy's blog post about the start to her weekend with her daughter, and it brought up sweet memories of Momma for me.

Nancy and her college-



aged daughter have a lot of similarities to me and my mom, most notably that it's always been just the two of them — just like me and Momma.

It made me wish my mom isn't nearly 600 miles away and instead I could be spending this gloomy, rainy Saturday cuddled in the bed with her.

I wish I had lots and lots of warm memories of growing up with Momma, but there are few.

Not that we don't love each other greatly. We do. It's just that she worked 2-3 jobs during my entire childhood, so the time she was home, she was usually sleeping.

And I was usually curled up next to her.

I'd watch her sleep and remember thinking how pretty she looked. She never took off her makeup before she'd fall asleep, so I'd study the shimmers of her green glittery eyeshadow and the beautiful symmetry of her wet black eyeliner — top lid only.

And when I couldn't sleep, she'd trace a gentle trail all over my face with her fingertips — above my eye, below my nose, a circle around my mouth — many times never opening her eyes herself. Her exhausted fingers knew the way.

Now, I close my eyes when I'm caressing my son's face at bedtime sometimes and remember.

Yes, there are few memories, but the ones I cling to are so special, like on our drives to visit Grandma and Granddaddy 2.5 hours away.

We'd laugh and sing along to the radio at the top of our lungs. Momma would always try to do harmony, but it never really worked since we were both natural altos.

When it would get dark, she'd let me crawl into her lap and steer the car down the parkway, sometimes for an hour or more. (Nobody worried about seat belts back then.)

Sometimes, I'd just hand the wheel back over to her and crawl down to put my head on her lap as we quietly marked off the miles.

No laughter, no singing, no radio.

Just her one hand on the wheel and the other tracing that gentle, familiar trail with her fingertips, over my eye, under my nose …

Well hello there

Do you need me as much as I need you?

I haven't written a single thing in a month, yet at least 20 of you still stop by each day to see if I've written.

So, I suspect you do need me. And that's good. I like feeling needed.

And it's mutual.

I thank all of you who have written just to make sure I'm OK.

I am. I just needed a break. From everything.

So many of you have told me how strong you think I am, but the truth is, I'm not. I'm weak, and sometimes getting through life is hard for me.

But I know it's hard for many of you, too, and that's why I want to let you know I'm still here.

I am going to start writing again, and I even have a new, actual website that I'll be revealing soon.

I'm still here.

Are you?

Saturday, October 23, 2010

I still need my Momma

Momma and me.

Editor's note: I know I should be posting this random rambling on my new website, but I don't know how yet. So here ya go.


I miss Momma today.

I was just reading my friend Nancy's blog post about the start to her weekend with her daughter, and it brought up sweet memories of Momma for me. 

Nancy and her college-aged daughter have a lot of similarities to me and my mom, most notably that it's always been just the two of them — just like me and Momma. 

It made me wish my mom isn't nearly 600 miles away and instead I could be spending this gloomy, rainy Saturday cuddled in the bed with her.

I wish I had lots and lots of warm memories of growing up with Momma, but there are few. 

Not that we don't love each other greatly. We do. It's just that she worked 2-3 jobs during my entire childhood, so the time she was home, she was usually sleeping.

And I was usually curled up next to her.

I'd watch her sleep and remember thinking how pretty she looked. She never took off her makeup before she'd fall asleep, so I'd study the shimmers of her green glittery eyeshadow and the beautiful symmetry of her wet black eyeliner — top lid only.

And when I couldn't sleep, she'd trace a gentle trail all over my face with her fingertips — above my eye, below my nose, a circle around my mouth — many times never opening her eyes herself. Her exhausted fingers knew the way.

Now, I close my eyes when I'm caressing my son's face at bedtime sometimes and remember.

Yes, there are few memories, but the ones I cling to are so special, like on our drives to visit Grandma and Granddaddy 2.5 hours away. 

We'd laugh and sing along to the radio at the top of our lungs. Momma would always try to do harmony, but it never really worked since we were both natural altos.

When it would get dark, she'd let me crawl into her lap and steer the car down the parkway, sometimes for an hour or more. (Nobody worried about seat belts back then.) 

Sometimes, I'd just hand the wheel back over to her and crawl down to put my head on her lap as we quietly marked off the miles.

No laughter, no singing, no radio.

Just her one hand on the wheel and the other tracing that gentle, familiar trail with her fingertips, over my eye, under my nose … .

Monday, October 18, 2010

Well, hello there

My cute boy. My world.
He turned 2 recently.
Do you need me as much as I need you?


I haven't written a single thing in a month, yet at least 20 of you still stop by each day to see if I've written.

So, I suspect you do need me. And that's good. I like feeling needed.

And it's mutual. 

I thank all of you who have written just to make sure I'm OK. 

I am. I just needed a break. From everything.

So many of you have told me how strong you think I am, but the truth is, I'm not. I'm weak, and sometimes getting through life is hard for me.

But I know it's hard for many of you, too, and that's why I want to let you know I'm still here.

I am going to start writing again, and I even have a new, actual website that I'll be revealing soon.

I'm still here.

Are you?

Monday, September 20, 2010

Inspire me

If you’re here for inspiration, I still ain’t got it.

This week’s weigh-in: Zero.

I guess it’s good that the gain stopped, but it’s far from ideal.

I’ve just really struggled since everything turned so screwy over the summer.

Since the first week of July, our son has had maybe three instances where he has stayed in his bed the whole night.

I don’t like to use that as an excuse, but I’m exhausted. I never realized how much a good night’s sleep was contributing to my weight loss success until that consistency was shot.

I’m still struggling with Dad’s death. Last week, “Free Bird,” which they played at his funeral, came on the radio, and I bawled all the way to work.

Anyway, this is life. No one’s situation is perfect.

But I have to find ways to rise above it all and find happiness. I know people who are.

Former work friend Jim has lost about 50 pounds the last I heard. New work pal Alan has joined an adult baseball league.

I have a couple of friends who are taking steps to find a better job.

Tifany, my best friend from home, is training for a half-marathon.

And my mom bought her first home computer so she can stay in better touch with me and my son. She’s even joined Facebook and is learning to video chat with us.

See, there. Inspiration is around us. Let’s share it with each other.

OK, your turn. Tell me one thing you are doing toward a happier life.

Inspire me

If you’re here for inspiration, I still ain’t got it.

This week’s weigh-in: Zero.

I guess it’s good that the gain stopped, but it’s far from ideal.

I’ve just really struggled since everything turned so screwy over the summer.

Since the first week of July, our son has had maybe three instances where he has stayed in his bed the whole night.

I don’t like to use that as an excuse, but I’m exhausted. I never realized how much a good night’s sleep was contributing to my weight loss success until that consistency was shot.

I’m still struggling with Dad’s death. Last week, “Free Bird,” which they played at his funeral, came on the radio, and I bawled all the way to work.

Anyway, this is life. No one’s situation is perfect.

But I have to find ways to rise above it all and find happiness. I know people who are.

Former work friend Jim has lost about 50 pounds the last I heard. New work pal Alan has joined an adult baseball league.

I have a couple of friends who are taking steps to find a better job.

Tifany, my best friend from home, is training for a half-marathon.

And my mom bought her first home computer so she can stay in better touch with me and my son. She’s even joined Facebook and is learning to video chat with us.

See, there. Inspiration is around us. Let’s share it with each other.

OK, your turn. Tell me one thing you are doing toward a happier life.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Seriously.

Well, I weighed.

I am up 1 pound from the last time I did that.

You kind folks might very well be witnessing the most pathetic weight loss attempt in history.

I’m not giving up. Here we go again.

Seriously.

Well, I weighed.

I am up 1 pound from the last time I did that.

You kind folks might very well be witnessing the most pathetic weight loss attempt in history.

I’m not giving up. Here we go again.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

One down

My son didn’t care much about my
list so early in the morning.
Well, I did it. I finally marked the first item off My Bucket List.

And it felt spectacular.

The Mackinac Bridge Walk itself (enjoyed, along with the rest of the weekend, in the most perfect weather possible) was 5 miles.

Add another half a mile to and from our parking, and that’s 6.

Add at least 8 miles that we walked the day before on Mackinac Island, and … you’ve got it … we walked about 14 miles in two days. (You’re very good at addition.)

I’m pooped, but still alive to tell about it!

But he’s so much more enthused here.
Can’t you tell?
With me every step of the way were my husband and son, and our friend from Kentucky, Christi. She brought along her husband, daughter and daughter’s best friend.

They drove all this way just to be with me when I marked this adventure off my list.

I am forever grateful. Humbled and grateful.

Several friends have “signed up” to help me mark other milestones off my list, and it means the world to me. I look forward to each one.

I didn’t weigh today, by the way. I just couldn’t make myself.

I am coming off a mental high with the Crim 5K last weekend and the bridge walk yesterday, and to be honest, I just don’t want to ruin that if the number is bad.
I’m so thankful for Christi and her family.

And the number is almost definitely bad. I’ve eaten as much as I’ve walked.

Yes, it’s probably silly to still allow something like a scale to have such an effect on my mood and self-worth, but it does. And I am fearful of what it would have to say right now.

So, I’m breaking the rules and skipping the weigh-in today.

But I’m also going to finally get my fat rump back on track. I have to.

As my husband and I were walking on the island Sunday, he noted how amazed he was at how far I’d walked that day.

Last year, I would have been in a lot of pain and would have complained the whole walk across the island, he said.

Enough said.
He’s right. And that’s only if I would have even tried it in the first place. I probably wouldn’t have.

That moment on the island, and then on the bridge when my toddler son reached out his hand to mine from his stroller, and we held hands for probably half a mile – those were extremely special moments to me.

They’re reminders of why I have to break through this weight loss rut I’ve been in for over two months now.

They’re reminders of why I’m doing this.

We’ve got one life to live, folks. Let’s make the best of it.

One down

My son didn’t care much about my
list so early in the morning.
Well, I did it. I finally marked the first item off My Bucket List.

And it felt spectacular.

The Mackinac Bridge Walk itself (enjoyed, along with the rest of the weekend, in the most perfect weather possible) was 5 miles.

Add another half a mile to and from our parking, and that’s 6.

Add at least 8 miles that we walked the day before on Mackinac Island, and … you’ve got it … we walked about 14 miles in two days. (You’re very good at addition.)

I’m pooped, but still alive to tell about it!

But he’s so much more enthused here.
Can’t you tell?
With me every step of the way were my husband and son, and our friend from Kentucky, Christi. She brought along her husband, daughter and daughter’s best friend.

They drove all this way just to be with me when I marked this adventure off my list.

I am forever grateful. Humbled and grateful.

Several friends have “signed up” to help me mark other milestones off my list, and it means the world to me. I look forward to each one.

I didn’t weigh today, by the way. I just couldn’t make myself.

I am coming off a mental high with the Crim 5K last weekend and the bridge walk yesterday, and to be honest, I just don’t want to ruin that if the number is bad.
I’m so thankful for Christi and her family.

And the number is almost definitely bad. I’ve eaten as much as I’ve walked.

Yes, it’s probably silly to still allow something like a scale to have such an effect on my mood and self-worth, but it does. And I am fearful of what it would have to say right now.

So, I’m breaking the rules and skipping the weigh-in today.

But I’m also going to finally get my fat rump back on track. I have to.

As my husband and I were walking on the island Sunday, he noted how amazed he was at how far I’d walked that day.

Last year, I would have been in a lot of pain and would have complained the whole walk across the island, he said.

Enough said.
He’s right. And that’s only if I would have even tried it in the first place. I probably wouldn’t have.

That moment on the island, and then on the bridge when my toddler son reached out his hand to mine from his stroller, and we held hands for probably half a mile – those were extremely special moments to me.

They’re reminders of why I have to break through this weight loss rut I’ve been in for over two months now.

They’re reminders of why I’m doing this.

We’ve got one life to live, folks. Let’s make the best of it.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Pounding the pavement

Screw the scales.

My dear friend Brooke told me that a few months ago, trying to get me to measure my success in other ways.

Well, considering I somehow managed to gain 5 pounds this week, I’m thinking it’s brilliant advice.

After all, I walked my first official 5K on Saturday as part of the Crim Festival of Races!

Not only that … I think I did really well.

My official electronic chip time was 52:13. That breaks down to this:

I was 290th out of 906 in my age division (ages 30-34 – and I’m 34!).

I was 290th out of 1,662 women.

And I was 413th out of 2,554 walkers overall!

So, I finished faster than 2,141 other people.

Hey, I’m as shocked as you are.

My little man, who will be 2 in October, also held our hands and walked the entire length of his quarter-mile Teddy Bear Trot.

There were lots of smiles this weekend.

I’ve come a long way since I started walking in March, when it took me over 21 minutes to walk only 1 excruciating mile.

Some days, you’ve just gotta say screw the scales.

Today is one of those days.

Pounding the pavement

Screw the scales.

My dear friend Brooke told me that a few months ago, trying to get me to measure my success in other ways.

Well, considering I somehow managed to gain 5 pounds this week, I’m thinking it’s brilliant advice.

After all, I walked my first official 5K on Saturday as part of the Crim Festival of Races!

Not only that … I think I did really well.

My official electronic chip time was 52:13. That breaks down to this:

I was 290th out of 906 in my age division (ages 30-34 – and I’m 34!).

I was 290th out of 1,662 women.

And I was 413th out of 2,554 walkers overall!

So, I finished faster than 2,141 other people.

Hey, I’m as shocked as you are.

My little man, who will be 2 in October, also held our hands and walked the entire length of his quarter-mile Teddy Bear Trot.

There were lots of smiles this weekend.

I’ve come a long way since I started walking in March, when it took me over 21 minutes to walk only 1 excruciating mile.

Some days, you’ve just gotta say screw the scales.

Today is one of those days.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

That love/hate relationship

Usually when I walk on the treadmill in the mornings, my son is still asleep. Today, he was up and walked into the room where I was walking.

I was grateful.

I had read a friend’s Facebook posting yesterday that her toddler granddaughter had handed her her baby doll and said she was going to work out.

How wonderful is that? What a great example she is setting on such a regular basis that her granddaughter would mimic that.

I haven’t felt like a very good example lately.

My working out has been hit and miss. And my diet has been, well, pretty much all miss.

That picture is from my very first blog posting about this journey. It illustrates my love/hate relationship with food.

I see major strides in some areas. When I first started out in March, 1 mile on the treadmill left me in pain and exhausted. Now I’m doing 3.

But I still fight the food battle day in and day out, and right now I’m losing.

Today has started off right.

I’m thankful for the promise of each brand-new day.

That love/hate relationship

Usually when I walk on the treadmill in the mornings, my son is still asleep. Today, he was up and walked into the room where I was walking.

I was grateful.

I had read a friend’s Facebook posting yesterday that her toddler granddaughter had handed her her baby doll and said she was going to work out.

How wonderful is that? What a great example she is setting on such a regular basis that her granddaughter would mimic that.

I haven’t felt like a very good example lately.

My working out has been hit and miss. And my diet has been, well, pretty much all miss.

That picture is from my very first blog posting about this journey. It illustrates my love/hate relationship with food.

I see major strides in some areas. When I first started out in March, 1 mile on the treadmill left me in pain and exhausted. Now I’m doing 3.

But I still fight the food battle day in and day out, and right now I’m losing.

Today has started off right.

I’m thankful for the promise of each brand-new day.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Movin’ on down

Well, my little get-moving scheme worked.

I threw in several walks, some late-night dancing, a sweaty trip to the batting cages and a couple of Zumba classes for the week.

The result: I lost those 3 pounds I had gained in my two “off” weeks.

That’s back to 43 pounds lost.

I’m hoping I can quit playing around with these few pounds and keep losing now. The key will be to get my eating under control again.

I’m still finding the comfort in it right now, and I need to train my brain that food is fuel again.

It doesn’t love me. It doesn’t control me.

I know these things, but man, it’s hard.

During a walk last night with friends Kristy and Kim (and two of our little cuties, shown here), we trekked through this beautiful neighborhood where homes had their windows open to let in the fresh air.

Well, it was dinner time, and they were also letting out their delicious aromas.

Seriously. I hope Kim and Kristy will comment on this, because I don’t know if anyone will believe it.

We started out, and the air smelled like hamburgers on a grill. A little farther down, it smelled like bacon. Heavenly bacon.

Then a few streets over, I swear we smelled marshmallows roasting on an open fire.

Finally, chicken teriyaki. We were certain of it.

I kid you not, I thought we were on some kind of hidden-camera reality show. I was waiting for a man with a mic to run up to me.

“Hey, fatty! We really thought we had you with the bacon. Tell us … how did you keep going?”

Ah, well. I am keeping going, one day at a time.

How about you?

Movin’ on down

Well, my little get-moving scheme worked.

I threw in several walks, some late-night dancing, a sweaty trip to the batting cages and a couple of Zumba classes for the week.

The result: I lost those 3 pounds I had gained in my two “off” weeks.

That’s back to 43 pounds lost.

I’m hoping I can quit playing around with these few pounds and keep losing now. The key will be to get my eating under control again.

I’m still finding the comfort in it right now, and I need to train my brain that food is fuel again.

It doesn’t love me. It doesn’t control me.

I know these things, but man, it’s hard.

During a walk last night with friends Kristy and Kim (and two of our little cuties, shown here), we trekked through this beautiful neighborhood where homes had their windows open to let in the fresh air.

Well, it was dinner time, and they were also letting out their delicious aromas.

Seriously. I hope Kim and Kristy will comment on this, because I don’t know if anyone will believe it.

We started out, and the air smelled like hamburgers on a grill. A little farther down, it smelled like bacon. Heavenly bacon.

Then a few streets over, I swear we smelled marshmallows roasting on an open fire.

Finally, chicken teriyaki. We were certain of it.

I kid you not, I thought we were on some kind of hidden-camera reality show. I was waiting for a man with a mic to run up to me.

“Hey, fatty! We really thought we had you with the bacon. Tell us … how did you keep going?”

Ah, well. I am keeping going, one day at a time.

How about you?

Friday, August 20, 2010

Just a swingin'

Many thanks to my work pal Alan, who took me to the batting cages yesterday. 

He plays for the super-cool throwback Bay City Independents base ball (yes, two words) team, so he pretty much schooled me.

But it felt good to swing a bat again. Natural. Calming.

And … I didn't even throw out my back!

It was fun. Lots of fun.

This weekend, you find something fun to do, too, eh?

Just a swingin'

Many thanks to my work pal Alan, who took me to the batting cages yesterday. 

He plays for the super-cool throwback Bay City Independents base ball (yes, two words) team, so he pretty much schooled me.

But it felt good to swing a bat again. Natural. Calming.

And … I didn't even throw out my back!

It was fun. Lots of fun.

This weekend, you find something fun to do, too, eh?

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Well, that was weird

While I had been pretty consistent on the treadmill up until my father’s death a couple of weeks ago, I had been horrible about the gym.

I hadn’t been in a few weeks even before the death.

So, I made my way back last night for Zumba.

Probably about 20 seconds into the first song, I started crying.

I wasn’t particularly sad. I wasn’t particularly happy. I wasn’t in pain.

But I was crying.

And this lasted well into the second song.

I have no idea why this happened. Don’t know if it was some residual emotion that still needed to be released. Don’t know if that skinny bitch I swear is inside me was crying to get out.

Just don’t know.

But I do know that me shaking my bootie with tears streaming down my face had to make a few people think I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

Ah well. Tonight, I’m hitting the batting cages. I’ll try not to cry.

There’s no crying in baseball.

Well, that was weird

While I had been pretty consistent on the treadmill up until my father’s death a couple of weeks ago, I had been horrible about the gym.

I hadn’t been in a few weeks even before the death.

So, I made my way back last night for Zumba.

Probably about 20 seconds into the first song, I started crying.

I wasn’t particularly sad. I wasn’t particularly happy. I wasn’t in pain.

But I was crying.

And this lasted well into the second song.

I have no idea why this happened. Don’t know if it was some residual emotion that still needed to be released. Don’t know if that skinny bitch I swear is inside me was crying to get out.

Just don’t know.

But I do know that me shaking my bootie with tears streaming down my face had to make a few people think I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

Ah well. Tonight, I’m hitting the batting cages. I’ll try not to cry.

There’s no crying in baseball.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Cake walk

Some days are better than others.

Yesterday: 3 cupcakes.

This morning: 3 miles on the treadmill.

However, I walked them in my fastest time ever.

Now, I’m sure it could be considered foolish to say cupcakes give you super powers, but …

Cake walk

Some days are better than others.

Yesterday: 3 cupcakes.

This morning: 3 miles on the treadmill.

However, I walked them in my fastest time ever.

Now, I’m sure it could be considered foolish to say cupcakes give you super powers, but …

Monday, August 16, 2010

The odometer is rolling again

Our Teddy Bear Trotters. Mine is the
second from the right, with the Zoolander hair.
Back to life. Back to reality.

Back to the treadmill.

Whew.

I have not done a thing toward weight loss since my dad died two weeks ago.

Wouldn’t it be great if this post was all about “Tips for Staying Healthy While Mourning the Loss of a Loved One”?

Yeah, well, I ain’t got ‘em.

When Dad died, I shut down mentally and physically, and I went all rogue on my diet.

I’m even battling what has to be my 10th head and chest cold since my little germ magnet started daycare in January.

I wouldn’t recommend any of that. When I finally dragged myself onto the scale this morning, I had gained 3 pounds.

But as my alarm started blaring today, I heard the voice of one of my best friends, who reminded me recently that the key to exercising success is doing it when it’s the last thing you want to do.

So, I resumed what I now consider my routine and got in 3 miles.

I have to: We’re in training around here!

See that picture? Those are four boys who were all born between Sept. 11, 2008, and Oct. 9, 2008. They were about 3 months old in this picture, so they’ve changed a bit since then.

But one thing that hasn’t changed is our desire to get them all together occasionally. As they are nearing their 2nd birthdays, we’re entering them in the Teddy Bear Trot portion of the Crim Festival of Races on Aug. 28 in Flint.

While I was signing up my son, I noticed a 5K Walk, so I signed myself up for that.

And then a week after that, I am doing the 5-mile Mackinac Bridge Walk, which will be the first official thing I mark off my Bucket List.

So, I’m picking myself up, brushing myself off, and I’m moving once again.

Who’s with me?

The odometer is rolling again

Our Teddy Bear Trotters. Mine is the
second from the right, with the Zoolander hair.
Back to life. Back to reality.

Back to the treadmill.

Whew.

I have not done a thing toward weight loss since my dad died two weeks ago.

Wouldn’t it be great if this post was all about “Tips for Staying Healthy While Mourning the Loss of a Loved One”?

Yeah, well, I ain’t got ‘em.

When Dad died, I shut down mentally and physically, and I went all rogue on my diet.

I’m even battling what has to be my 10th head and chest cold since my little germ magnet started daycare in January.

I wouldn’t recommend any of that. When I finally dragged myself onto the scale this morning, I had gained 3 pounds.

But as my alarm started blaring today, I heard the voice of one of my best friends, who reminded me recently that the key to exercising success is doing it when it’s the last thing you want to do.

So, I resumed what I now consider my routine and got in 3 miles.

I have to: We’re in training around here!

See that picture? Those are four boys who were all born between Sept. 11, 2008, and Oct. 9, 2008. They were about 3 months old in this picture, so they’ve changed a bit since then.

But one thing that hasn’t changed is our desire to get them all together occasionally. As they are nearing their 2nd birthdays, we’re entering them in the Teddy Bear Trot portion of the Crim Festival of Races on Aug. 28 in Flint.

While I was signing up my son, I noticed a 5K Walk, so I signed myself up for that.

And then a week after that, I am doing the 5-mile Mackinac Bridge Walk, which will be the first official thing I mark off my Bucket List.

So, I’m picking myself up, brushing myself off, and I’m moving once again.

Who’s with me?

Sunday, August 15, 2010

The beginning at the end

Dad’s Funeral, Part 7
The burial and meal, noon Saturday

After the funeral, I pulled my car directly behind the family hearse for the drive from Calhoun, Ky., to Sacramento, Ky., for my father’s burial.

It was a 10-mile trip that included a swing through Semiway, a hamlet in our county where I think my dad lived after returning home from Georgia, where he lived throughout my entire childhood.

Upon arrival at the cemetery, I wondered if the skunk that had fallen into Dad’s grave had been disposed of.

“Uncle Dave would think that’s hilarious,” Tawna told me at the funeral home.

Then I definitely got his sense of humor, because I immediately filed that away in the Funny Shit You Can’t Make Up part of my brain.

It appeared the scene was skunk-free, and I immediately started to wonder two things as I climbed the small hill to Dad’s grave: Would I turn my ankle in these damn heels, and where should I sit/stand when I get there?

Uncle Charlie answered both of those questions about halfway up the hill when he took me by the arm for the rest of the walk and guided me to the Reserved for Family section under the tent by the grave.

The graveside ceremony was short and somber, including a roll call over the prison guards’ radios in which officers answered “present” until they called out Dad’s badge number.

Silence.

Some of the guards standing behind the tent started sobbing softly, and I so wished I had known this man whom everyone loved so much.

Afterward, the church across the street had a potluck dinner prepared, so I went.

I filled my plate with comfort food … if not now, when? … and I sat beside 6-year-old Chloe, one of my brother’s two children. We talked about her starting school in two days and her loose tooth, and I wondered if I’ll get the pleasure of more of these wonderful conversations.

A friend of Luke’s was sitting near us, and he introduced her to me.

“Are you two related?” she asked.

Luke and I smiled at each other.

“You could say that,” we both answered.

“We have to come up with an answer for that now,” he said to me.

“You could just say I’m Misty. That’s the answer I gave when someone asked who I was at the funeral home,” I told him.

“Misty is Dad’s estranged daughter,” he told his friend.

I’ve been called strange, but never estranged. It worked, I guess.

Luke and me.
“Oh,” she said.

“Awkward, huh?” I said with a laugh.

I finished my meatloaf, mashed potatoes and corn, and people began to trickle out of the church.

Joanne, my dad’s wife, sat one table over. I wrote out all my contact info and handed it to her, and told her to use it if and when she is ready.

Near the food table, Tawna was just getting the chance to eat, so I stood and talked with her a minute.

“Your dad seems very overwhelmed by all this,” I told her.

“He is. We all are. We never knew it was true,” she said. “When you approached me about it our freshman year of high school, I went home and asked, and they asked Uncle Dave, and he said it wasn’t true.”

Wow. Punch in the gut.

“Well, that’s all you could do, Tawna,” I told her. “And in all honesty, if I had asked my uncle a question like that, I’d have no choice but to believe his answer. I don’t blame you.”

And I don’t. Here’s a family that had just lost a man they loved, and lost all chances to ask him any questions after being blindsided with a long-lost daughter who showed up at the funeral.

My heart ached for them. None more so than for Uncle Charlie.

After Luke and I hugged, took pictures together on each of our cell phones and vowed that this is the beginning, not the end, Uncle Charlie walked over and sat next to me.

“I want you to come around, be part of the family,” he told me, not realizing I live in Michigan now.

I vowed I’ll stay in touch and swing by at the holidays so they can get to know my son, a chance my dad will never have.

“Did your mom ever marry?” he asked.

“No. She always worked two and three jobs, and honestly, she never had time to really date,” I explained. “We never got any money from Dad, and the one time we asked for help, he said he couldn’t.”

The look on Charlie’s face broke my heart.

“I didn’t say that to hurt you,” I said. “I’m just explaining how it was.”

“I know,” he said. “But I am so sorry. On behalf of the whole family, I’m sorry.”

We talked a little more, and as I prepared to leave, Charlie told me he was so glad I had come down for the funeral.

“Thank you for that. I’m glad I came,” I said. “My uncle had warned me that he didn’t think I should, because it would just ‘stir up shit.’”

“You tell your uncle that the only thing you did was come down here and gain a new uncle,” he said.

Indeed, I will.

The end.