Eat Pray Love

In the last 48 hours, I've had a few different people from different parts of my life comment on "how skinny I am getting." One noticed my arms (welcome to the gun show! pow pow!). I felt embarrassed yet pleased. My instinct was to brush it off. It felt weird; I guess I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Truth is, PCP is really the last thing on my mind these days; I feel like a little zombie and there is not joy in it for me. I'm just a little robot trying to complete task. And that's not a reflection on the PCP ... just I'm spending a lot of time dealing with this transitional time in my life concerning parenting, money, and two very different schedules and lifestyles. I look forward to when I can stop worrying about the PCP. Though tonight when I ran to the store to get a few things, I picked up a box of hot cocoa mix, but then put it back. PCP, I can't quit you ...

Day 94 (Day 59 Revisited): The Good Daughter

My mom thinks I'm crazy: I worked out this morning (4 minutes x 4 sets) and then I worked out tonight (strength exercises). And today on our trip into Boulder, I bought two new tank tops to exercise in for another boost of motivation. But you worked out yesterday ...

So my Mom .... I love Mom. We aren't much alike but she allowed me to shine and be who I am. Her mother didn't allow that for her, and Mom's personality quirks could have followed suit but she didn't. It's a miracle I am hers. Haven't seen her in three years because of time and money on both our parts. She drove out to CO with my Kid Sister, who is 8, from Kentucky. They are visiting for a week; they leave Monday morning. Mom has always been the Dieter. As a kid, I remember the Dexatrim bottle on the counter. Then the various fad diets. Then the pans of brownies and cake that were gone quickly. The XXL tees she scored from the Dollar Store. Sometimes she was heavy; other times she was gaunt. As for exercise, she liked to walk; her timid, cautious and low-key personality prevented her from really trying anything beyond that. She's been into Curves the last year, but stopped going earlier this summer; her reasons were vague. She does, however, wear these Velcro sandals with curved soles which "help" you tone muscle as you walk (?!?!??). I just nod uh-hmmmmm!


Oh yah. This is them. Imagine them with white athletic socks. And sweatpants.

It makes me angry at these companies who sucker these women in; I also am frustrated with these women, including my dear and well-intentioned mother. Sure, she is trimmer than I have seen her in the past but I wouldn't say healthy. On the first day of her visit, we got into a debate because she believes that organic chocolate milk is healthier than regular chocolate milk, therefore she allows Kid Sister to have "only" two glasses of organic chocolate milk PER DAY. I walk downstairs, and Kid Sister starts the day off with 1. a glass of choc milk 2. a chocolate PopTart. Lunch is fries and a shake and a burger patty. Every day she has had a bowl of chocolate covered raisins. Every day so far there have been treats in addition to these "meals." Kid Sister got winded walking around the block with us! As a mother and a PCPer, I totally cringe. I mean, my kid gets the occasional Oreo or whatever but she also gets fruit, vegs and unbreaded protein every day. And Kid Sister prefers to sit on the couch than hit the playground or backyard to play with my Kid, much to Mini Me's dismay. But if I try to engage Mom about their exercise and food habits, she is vague, changes the subject, or shuts down completely. As a former newspaper reporter, I am used to pressing people for details or seeing through the smoke and mirrors to get to the goods. But handling my mom in this manner seems cruel so I have to stop the inquisition and highlighting the giant holes in her beliefs. But I don't want to give up on her.

Day Fifty-Six: Important Notice

Sometimes I feel strong and toned. Sometimes I feel weak and soft.

Sometimes I feel that in the same day. The same hour even.

I feel my limbs, looking for evidence. I tug at the skin, the chub.
Is it smaller than before? Are there muscles under this?
Does anyone notice? I don't sometimes.
Maybe it's all an illusion. Maybe it's just in my head.
In my dreams ...

But then my neighbor says, in the midst of his surprise party:

Hey, you're really working hard. I see you out there every day.
I'm impressed.
His wife, on a different day, says:
No, I can tell. This shirt would have been snug on you before.
And my former coworker and pal,
who lives nearby, caught me by surprise as he ran by and teased:
hey grrrrrl! work it! lookin' smooth!
He said I was rockin' it. That he couldn't do this.
(I don't believe that, by the way.)
And my friend, the one who runs marathons,
teaches yoga and rides in statewide bike tours, says:
i've totally started reading your pcp blog before i work out.....a nice little motivator*
i love how real your blog is...
I got veklempt.
My frown turned upside down.

So thank you,
the people who notice
or pretend to notice
and let us know that you notice
because we notice when you do.

*this blog entry is dedicated to my dearest friend, Cara.
my first college friend

BFF
godmother to my child
birthday girl (happy 30th!)
first-time home owner as of today
xoxoxo

Day Fifty-Two: Role Model? or Rolls Model?

After my bath last night, I was getting dressed and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was in a new pair of skivvies and (sadly smaller) bra and I thought "Hey .... wait a second. I look ... trim!" Well, more trim. But there it was: muscle lines in my upper body, sleek calves, tightening thighs and ... what's this? Possible lines forming on the sides of my torso?!?!? Sure I still have a soft, gooey center, but ... it's smaller; the sides, narrower. NO WAY. See, I've always been a fairly modest person and typically Just Say No to Nudity kind of person (name that movie! anyone? anyone? Bueller? no, not Bueller! But guess! Great, great movie) especially since losing my eighth-grader body shape since the kid's arrival on the scene nearly six years ago.

Sure back then I traipsed along southwest Florida's beaches as a newly-minted 23-year-old vessel of human life in a two-piece, but I was comparative eye candy against octogenarians with breast implants. I was gonna win that swimsuit contest, hands down. But after the Great Birth, I felt deflated and my ego/body/self image never quite recovered. Which I am now reminded of every time I do planks (hello lower torso! I can see you waving to me as I stare down my own shirt! I'm waving, too! See?!?! See? My middle finger? Yep, that's for you, buddy!) *sigh* ... I also get this nifty little stabbing pain in my lower left abdomen that never goes away no matter how many ab exercises I do. I feel it every time with crunches, kung fu sit-ups, leg ups, side crunches. And I often feel sick to my stomach after these sets quivering on the floor. Will I ever feel or look good again?


This body image issue was doubly on my mind as I read this article today about Glamour featuring a photo of a "real woman" who is a plus-size model (ha, yea I know, right?) in this month's magazine. She's the person in the photo above. I was torn: I recognized some of myself in her, with her curves and lumps and dimply flesh yet there is joy and laughter and a messy ponytail. And then a small part of me was suspicious: is this just a ploy to get Fat America 'ok' with their curvy, lumpy, dimply selves? How does PCP fit into this movement of loving who you are physically, even with an unPCP body? Is this movement just breeding physical complacency and even laziness and gluttony? Is being unPCP acceptable if you make it popular? Argh too many questions ... brain freeze.

Day Twelve: In Good Times and In Bad

A few years ago I wrote a snarky MySpace blog entry about how I suffer from what I like to call "Janet Jackson Syndrome." See, sometimes I look like this:

And then sometimes I look like this:

The thing is at the various times when I was at my thinnest adulthood size, it was often at the worst times in my life. Broken body. Broken heart. Empty bank account. But I have a lean body, willowy arms, no gut, thin face. And being a relatively private person, people who wouldn't know I was experiencing my darkest days would cheerily comment to me "OH my goodness you look AMAZING," coz well I did. But I couldn't eat, never exercised and often lacked the energy to even cross the street. I didn't feel how I looked, which was a pity. Yet when I'm at my heavier adult size, with a round belly, a butt that won't stop, cherub cheeks, it's historically been during my happier times. Seems unfair, huh? So I'm hoping to build some good habits through my PCP experience ~ regular exercise without excuses, good food, lots of rest ~ so that I can look like the former and not the latter all year round.