I've been meaning to blog for a while, but haven't had the gumption to actually do it. I also have a lot to talk about, but haven't been in the mood to post several blogs (let alone one). However, since I've got nothing better to do, I figure I might as well get down to brass tacks. (Who says that anyways?) Therefore, I'm serving up a 4 course meal... during what will hopefully be a very brief blog update.
For starters, my goal to monitor my daily caloric intake tanked. This was not however due to any failure on my part. I actually made it 2.5 whole weeks and lost the 5 pounds I gained back since being home... so technically, you could say it was a success. In reality, I went back to Chicago for the weekend and had difficulty tracking everything I was eating - not to mention how many calories. But, let me tell you! If you have the chance to eat at La Fonda Latino Grille, do it! So delicious!
That is a whole other story, though. Why I was in Chicago, I mean. I had an interview with a Catholic organization that really put my salad in a toss. I should have been excited for this interview, should have been nervous... and sure I was nervous, but for all the wrong reasons. Reasons which will be discussed shortly. For now, just believe me... I was not very enthusiastic in having this interview. When I arrived (early) I was made to sit and wait... fine whatever, but then when he finally does get around to talking to me it was so self important. He was a braggart and straightforward to the point of being rude. And while two of the four people were tolerable (even nice) the fourth person was a complete jerk! AND... the one I'd be saddled with. After leaving the interview, the job sounded fairly interesting... but the people [GAG ME] were awful! The clincher was that if I were offered the job I'd have to take it and that is a very VERY depressing thought.
Along those lines, for the main event (or rather entree), the reason I was "ify" going into that interview was because I had already been offered a job! YAY! But it's never that simple is it? After over a year of waiting to have even a handful of interviews, I finally get two interviews in the same week. 1) A high paying entry level job in a career field I'm only quasi-enthusiastic about or 2) an exceptionally low paying job in a non-profit organization working with Native Americans in a position that has been my dream ever since my mother told me what "Anthropology" was.
This job... my dream job... even if up to this point I hadn't a clue what I truly wanted to do with my life, is exactly what I could see myself doing for the rest of my life. I had been terrified before this interview because it would be such a commitment. An entire year of living in squalor, being at the beck and call of people who may turn out to be using me for my naivete and willingness to work for basically free. I'd have to move to another state (potentially one that I will hate, seeing as this state is practically the desert!), meet new people and survive on less than I would make as a sales associate.
But after that interview, when they offered me the job, when I realized God obviously wants me to consider this option, I felt good... happy... rejuvenated and excited. I WOULD BE WORKING IN AN ANTHROPOLOGICAL POSITION!!! This is what dreams are made of! After all that rigmarole that I put myself through in my master's program, I'm finally back to my roots and to what I have always loved... people, history, culture.
So I prayed. I asked for guidance and a sign. Short of hearing God talk to me (one can only hope, right?), I'd settle for being offered the position that I was meant to take. Which is why Friday night, when I got home, I burst into tears when Mom wanted to know the details. How could I turn down a position that would pay me enough to live completely independently?! What if I was offered the money?? Could money make me happy?! No, but it sure could make my life easier. I'd have to deal with those jerks every day for the next year at least. I'd have to brown nose, and follow directives, and read and abide by strict regulations. I'd have to be a peon in an organization that (sorry, Catholics) thinks they're high and mighty... God's right hand men. The guy who interviewed me sang to me! Who does that? He scanned my resume and cover letter, adopted a retention policy, enacted access restrictions, and gave it metadata tags! And then he proceeded to offer me tips on how to improve what he considered a "stretch of the imagination" (ie. my cover letter)!! I felt like crying and could imagine my hair falling out at this organization (whether due to mindless stress or because I've pulled it out in frustration, I have yet to figure out).
And so, I had been so happy knowing that I had my dream (if underpaid) job to fall back on. But it was too good to be true. Shortly there after, I find myself in my initial doldrums. I can't take that job. How could I live? My parents say they don't want to support me but that's exactly what they'd be doing anyway if I were sitting on their couch here at home for another year. I can't do that...
Why is it that I am offered a job doing meaningful work that will benefit a lot of people while giving me invaluable experience and powerful connections, and I can't logically accept it?
Why would God put a plate of food in front of me, and then expect me to eat crumbs off the floor? Or maybe I have the wrong perspective, maybe these jobs are the crumbs and I have yet to see the feast?
I don't know but I've been so stressed lately, so tired, so teary eyed (which I continue to blame on my new medication although I know that probably isn't true at this point). I just need help, and support, and a chance. That's all I ask!
And now... because that was a bit hard to digest. A lighter, more fanciful discourse (hehe... get it? dis-COURSE?)... The dessert :)
I want two dresses. Two sexy dresses in which I slay every man within sight. The first, a little black dress that hugs all my sexy features, enhances those in need, and hides whatever is left. Something slimming and versatile. That I can throw on for a date or an opening gala event. I will wear killer heels that show off my mega long legs and my hair will be done perfectly! This dress is going to have them salivating!!
The second, will be a sexy red dress. It's the dress that will reel them in. It's going to be loud yet subtle. Over the top yet understated. A red dress that will have guys primal-lusting for me left and right. This dress is the dress I'm going to be asked out in, hit on in, having drinks in, flirting with the bartender in... and of course... more long legs, perfect hair, and guys drooling!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Weigh In
It is time for my weekly weigh in! This day is a bit of a ritual for me, fun and frightening at the same time. I usually lay in bed thinking why the hell am I awake when I could be asleep? but then I remember! Weigh in!! So I jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom. Not my parent's bathroom (which has the medical scale... a much more trusted device than any digital scale), but to my own. I use the bathroom (because as we all know, waste weighs a lot) and then I do some stretches to get the muscles moving.
Lactic acid build up makes me feel stiff and heavy. Stretching eases the stiffness and makes me feel lighter. I wait until my muscles are limber before ever stepping on the scale. Whether it's a proven fact or just a theory, I'm not going risk weighing even .25 lbs more than I already do due to lactic acid.
I head to my parents bathroom and lock the door then use the toilet again... just in case. I remove any article of clothing that could add weight, including my hairband. I have another strange belief that I weigh more when my hair is piled on top of my head rather than just down. This one probably isn't as scientific as my last theory, but any girl can tell you how light her head feels after a major hair cut... so I know it must weigh something. And I feel better when its weight is dispersed around my shoulders rather than pushing down on top of my head (think surface area and its effect on psi).
Lastly, I set the scale to well above my current weight. I love sliding the heavy metal pieces down millimeter by millimeter... each number I pass makes me feel like I've really achieved something.
Now, without moving any more than is necessary, I step gently onto the scale. The balance wobbles a bit and then slams to the bottom (meaning the weight is too heavy!). Using my sliding method, I ease the metal piece to the left. Slowly, vveerryy slowly, I test each inch and half inch. Holding completely still to make sure there is no wobbling.
Eventually though, the balance does wobble and lifts minutely off the base. My efforts slow down even more, this time stopping on every quarter inch. I do this until the balance unfortunately slams into the top (meaning you've gone too far, come back). I have to slide the weight to the right again until the balance is neutral - suspended mid air between the top and bottom base.
But miraculously! On today of all days! After a week of watching my caloric intake! I see results!! I've lost 4.75 pounds!!! This could be water, this could be because I've eaten less than usual, this could be a fluke... but right now, after a week of hard work (and it was hard work), I have lost weight!!
Based on new calculations, I am only allowed 1730 calories per day. And reviewing my log from this past week, I can see I need more protein, vegetables and water. Also, I've given up on marking hunger/satisfaction... it's just too annoying.
Lactic acid build up makes me feel stiff and heavy. Stretching eases the stiffness and makes me feel lighter. I wait until my muscles are limber before ever stepping on the scale. Whether it's a proven fact or just a theory, I'm not going risk weighing even .25 lbs more than I already do due to lactic acid.
I head to my parents bathroom and lock the door then use the toilet again... just in case. I remove any article of clothing that could add weight, including my hairband. I have another strange belief that I weigh more when my hair is piled on top of my head rather than just down. This one probably isn't as scientific as my last theory, but any girl can tell you how light her head feels after a major hair cut... so I know it must weigh something. And I feel better when its weight is dispersed around my shoulders rather than pushing down on top of my head (think surface area and its effect on psi).
Lastly, I set the scale to well above my current weight. I love sliding the heavy metal pieces down millimeter by millimeter... each number I pass makes me feel like I've really achieved something.
Now, without moving any more than is necessary, I step gently onto the scale. The balance wobbles a bit and then slams to the bottom (meaning the weight is too heavy!). Using my sliding method, I ease the metal piece to the left. Slowly, vveerryy slowly, I test each inch and half inch. Holding completely still to make sure there is no wobbling.
Eventually though, the balance does wobble and lifts minutely off the base. My efforts slow down even more, this time stopping on every quarter inch. I do this until the balance unfortunately slams into the top (meaning you've gone too far, come back). I have to slide the weight to the right again until the balance is neutral - suspended mid air between the top and bottom base.
But miraculously! On today of all days! After a week of watching my caloric intake! I see results!! I've lost 4.75 pounds!!! This could be water, this could be because I've eaten less than usual, this could be a fluke... but right now, after a week of hard work (and it was hard work), I have lost weight!!
Based on new calculations, I am only allowed 1730 calories per day. And reviewing my log from this past week, I can see I need more protein, vegetables and water. Also, I've given up on marking hunger/satisfaction... it's just too annoying.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
When the Going Gets Tough...
It's hard to keep your head above water when it feels like all of your efforts are just dragging you under even more. Like in quicksand, how the harder you struggle to free yourself the further down you're going to sink. Mechanically, that's because the sediments (sand) are saturated with water such that the pressure forcing the sand together and up (friction) is equal to the pressure forcing it down and apart.
Upset this balance (say, with your body) and the greater pressure pushing down will win out. Thrashing around will only disrupt the balance further and you'll probably sink all that much faster. As your feet settle into the muck, the space you've filled forms a vacuum. In order to pull yourself out you need to allow air to fill the void you're feet have created. It is the same with a glass ketchup bottle, the ketchup can't come out until air goes in...
Easily remedied, ketchup bottles work better when you've tipped them on an angle. Same thing needs to happen when you pull yourself out of quicksand - change your angle, allow air to replace your feet, then slowly pull yourself out. Because your body is bouyant, altering your surface area allows you to float on top of the saturated sediment. And with gentle movements across the sand you can effectively get out.
Lately, I've been struggling with life. And I feel like I'm stuck in quicksand. Every time I fill out an application, I get turned down. Every time I make a phone call, I get the answering machine. Every time I work towards something outside my control, it falls through. And I get frustrated and depressed.
Maybe I need to change my angle and stop struggling if this is where I'm meant to be. I don't mean just float along, but, I don't know, get a different perspective.
I know this brother and sister who used to fight constantly. Probably still do. But whenever they would get mad, just as they were about to snap at each other, I'd tell them to say nice things. As if it were a game. I told them that whenever they felt the need to call each other names or swear or whatever... that they should think up some compliment or apology to say instead.
It was hilarious because whenever I stopped the sister from snapping, she'd compliment herself! And whenever I caught the brother from snapping back, he'd apologize that she had some huge flaw that was out of her power to fix. Which would inevitably have them laughing and voila... problem solved.
I feel like I need to do this in the mirror. Whenever I think up some awful thought about myself I need to compliment myself instead. Whenever something happens that is out of my control, I should be thankful of what I have instead of wishing I had more and being depressed about it.
Sure I don't have a job and no body wants to hire me on who-knows-what basis, since they haven't even bothered to get to know me. But that doesn't mean I'm stupid or my life is a failure. I know I'm smart... for one, I give great advice. I pride myself on being observant and seeing all sides of a situation. I am comfortable in my own skin and that right there is a major accomplishment since it's taken me years to get to that point.
For another, I'm safe and live in a loving family (even if they drive me crazy most of the time!). And they hold me to higher standards than I'd ever set for myself... which, while painful, can be a good thing as it forces me to work hard.
I have faith in God and even though I'm currently doubting myself and beliefs, I can see him working through the people around me. Bringing me what I need... not necessarily what I want. And when I ask, I always get an answer. Even if I can't see it right away; when I do see it, it comes together like puzzle pieces - perfectly aligned. Sometimes I just have to remind myself, I'm here for a reason. I'm stuck for a reason. Or rather, I feel stuck for a reason... but in reality I'm not.
And last, when I'm stressed... not just frustrated but truly, tearfully, depressingly stressed (something that I have rarely been before, but am increasingly of late); I can take a deep breath, stretch out, close my eyes for a minute, and find a different angle. Then get back to pulling myself out of the muck.
Upset this balance (say, with your body) and the greater pressure pushing down will win out. Thrashing around will only disrupt the balance further and you'll probably sink all that much faster. As your feet settle into the muck, the space you've filled forms a vacuum. In order to pull yourself out you need to allow air to fill the void you're feet have created. It is the same with a glass ketchup bottle, the ketchup can't come out until air goes in...
Easily remedied, ketchup bottles work better when you've tipped them on an angle. Same thing needs to happen when you pull yourself out of quicksand - change your angle, allow air to replace your feet, then slowly pull yourself out. Because your body is bouyant, altering your surface area allows you to float on top of the saturated sediment. And with gentle movements across the sand you can effectively get out.
Lately, I've been struggling with life. And I feel like I'm stuck in quicksand. Every time I fill out an application, I get turned down. Every time I make a phone call, I get the answering machine. Every time I work towards something outside my control, it falls through. And I get frustrated and depressed.
Maybe I need to change my angle and stop struggling if this is where I'm meant to be. I don't mean just float along, but, I don't know, get a different perspective.
I know this brother and sister who used to fight constantly. Probably still do. But whenever they would get mad, just as they were about to snap at each other, I'd tell them to say nice things. As if it were a game. I told them that whenever they felt the need to call each other names or swear or whatever... that they should think up some compliment or apology to say instead.
It was hilarious because whenever I stopped the sister from snapping, she'd compliment herself! And whenever I caught the brother from snapping back, he'd apologize that she had some huge flaw that was out of her power to fix. Which would inevitably have them laughing and voila... problem solved.
I feel like I need to do this in the mirror. Whenever I think up some awful thought about myself I need to compliment myself instead. Whenever something happens that is out of my control, I should be thankful of what I have instead of wishing I had more and being depressed about it.
Sure I don't have a job and no body wants to hire me on who-knows-what basis, since they haven't even bothered to get to know me. But that doesn't mean I'm stupid or my life is a failure. I know I'm smart... for one, I give great advice. I pride myself on being observant and seeing all sides of a situation. I am comfortable in my own skin and that right there is a major accomplishment since it's taken me years to get to that point.
For another, I'm safe and live in a loving family (even if they drive me crazy most of the time!). And they hold me to higher standards than I'd ever set for myself... which, while painful, can be a good thing as it forces me to work hard.
I have faith in God and even though I'm currently doubting myself and beliefs, I can see him working through the people around me. Bringing me what I need... not necessarily what I want. And when I ask, I always get an answer. Even if I can't see it right away; when I do see it, it comes together like puzzle pieces - perfectly aligned. Sometimes I just have to remind myself, I'm here for a reason. I'm stuck for a reason. Or rather, I feel stuck for a reason... but in reality I'm not.
And last, when I'm stressed... not just frustrated but truly, tearfully, depressingly stressed (something that I have rarely been before, but am increasingly of late); I can take a deep breath, stretch out, close my eyes for a minute, and find a different angle. Then get back to pulling myself out of the muck.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Caloric Intake
Okay, so... since coming home from Chicago, I have been eating up a storm (and gaining weight, to boot. At least 5 pounds). It doesn't help that I have almost any type of food I could ever want right in the kitchen. Nor does it help that my mother is an amazing (if kooky) cook, enjoys cooking, and makes enough leftovers to feed a small army (which is sometimes exactly how I feel when I'm hungry).
Actually, I eat like a guy - or so I've been told. It's awful. This past week I went camping with my friend and her family, and they kept trying to feed me. Offering me second helpings or just plopping food on my plate. I laugh and complain and put on a show (but secretly, I'm still hungry and am glad they're forcing an extra scoop of eggs on me). At dinner one night - granted it was after a long day of kayaking/swimming/biking/etc - we have burgers with beans, kielbasa, and watermelon. Before dinner I have at least 4 slices of watermelon. I eat a burger topped with onions, a tomato, and a glob of ketchup. I have a whole half of kielbasa mixed in a serving (or two) of beans. Then finish up with more watermelon and am still hungry, opting for trail mix on the ride home (a mere 40 minutes later)!
I'm literally starving when I start dinner and just keep on eating. And I even jokingly apologize for having eaten a quarter of the melon! But they don't mind at all, saying, "Don't worry about it. You make up for T's brother... he eats a ton."
Now, I know that wasn't a jibe at me. I'm sure they meant he'd be sitting there eating more than me, but even so, it shouldn't have come to that. I HAVE to start watching what I eat. Mid-June, I finally reached my lowest weight ever since reaching adolescence. I can NOT gain it back. And I refuse to let these last 5 pounds slip by unnoticed.
THEREFORE:
I am going to get anal... again!
As I'm sure I've stated in previous posts, it takes 21 days to form a habit. I now floss daily because of this interesting rule, and literally revolt at the thought being unable to. I now run daily and severely regret not raising my heart-rate for at least 20 minutes a day on days I feel too tired/ill/full to run. It has become this itch I need to scratch. Some nights I'll sit on the couch dreading my run, but inevitably I get up and do it. I have to, it's a bad habit!
Now! In an effort to fix my eating habits, I will be keeping a food journal for the next 21 days since these have been proven to augment weight-loss. It will hold me accountable just as keeping my jogging calendar has. I will track all food, water throughout the day, hunger and satisfaction on a scale of 1 to 10, and total calories imbibed.
I have also calculated that at my age, height, and weight with a sedentary activity level my resting metabolic rate requires 1801 calories per day. In order to maintain my current weight (EW!), I need to eat 2251... I'm not sure why that is, I assume that the extra 450 calories are used when walking to the fridge to eat more food.
In order to lose weight at a safe but decent rate, you have to eat 500 calories less than your estimated daily caloric needs. In other words, enough to sustain your resting metabolism but less than what you need to perform vigorous exercise. Your body then burns fat stores (YAY!) while preventing your metabolism from slowing down. Now, all this changes if you perform vigorous activity on a daily basis to start. A construction worker for instance may use more calories in a day and therefore would have a higher threshold. Subtracting 500 calories from his daily intake would still result in a higher calorie diet... whereas, my diet results in 1751 calories per day.
This is doable. I need to plan out how and when to get these calories. The trick is not to eat less than that amount or my metabolism will slow and I'll plateau again. Likewise, I'll need to eat every 4 or 5 hours to fuel that furnace, and I'll have to try REALLY hard not to eat more than my allotted caloric intake.
Come August 26th, this will be a no brainer (or so I hope)! Let the games begin!
Actually, I eat like a guy - or so I've been told. It's awful. This past week I went camping with my friend and her family, and they kept trying to feed me. Offering me second helpings or just plopping food on my plate. I laugh and complain and put on a show (but secretly, I'm still hungry and am glad they're forcing an extra scoop of eggs on me). At dinner one night - granted it was after a long day of kayaking/swimming/biking/etc - we have burgers with beans, kielbasa, and watermelon. Before dinner I have at least 4 slices of watermelon. I eat a burger topped with onions, a tomato, and a glob of ketchup. I have a whole half of kielbasa mixed in a serving (or two) of beans. Then finish up with more watermelon and am still hungry, opting for trail mix on the ride home (a mere 40 minutes later)!
I'm literally starving when I start dinner and just keep on eating. And I even jokingly apologize for having eaten a quarter of the melon! But they don't mind at all, saying, "Don't worry about it. You make up for T's brother... he eats a ton."
Now, I know that wasn't a jibe at me. I'm sure they meant he'd be sitting there eating more than me, but even so, it shouldn't have come to that. I HAVE to start watching what I eat. Mid-June, I finally reached my lowest weight ever since reaching adolescence. I can NOT gain it back. And I refuse to let these last 5 pounds slip by unnoticed.
THEREFORE:
I am going to get anal... again!
As I'm sure I've stated in previous posts, it takes 21 days to form a habit. I now floss daily because of this interesting rule, and literally revolt at the thought being unable to. I now run daily and severely regret not raising my heart-rate for at least 20 minutes a day on days I feel too tired/ill/full to run. It has become this itch I need to scratch. Some nights I'll sit on the couch dreading my run, but inevitably I get up and do it. I have to, it's a bad habit!
Now! In an effort to fix my eating habits, I will be keeping a food journal for the next 21 days since these have been proven to augment weight-loss. It will hold me accountable just as keeping my jogging calendar has. I will track all food, water throughout the day, hunger and satisfaction on a scale of 1 to 10, and total calories imbibed.
I have also calculated that at my age, height, and weight with a sedentary activity level my resting metabolic rate requires 1801 calories per day. In order to maintain my current weight (EW!), I need to eat 2251... I'm not sure why that is, I assume that the extra 450 calories are used when walking to the fridge to eat more food.
In order to lose weight at a safe but decent rate, you have to eat 500 calories less than your estimated daily caloric needs. In other words, enough to sustain your resting metabolism but less than what you need to perform vigorous exercise. Your body then burns fat stores (YAY!) while preventing your metabolism from slowing down. Now, all this changes if you perform vigorous activity on a daily basis to start. A construction worker for instance may use more calories in a day and therefore would have a higher threshold. Subtracting 500 calories from his daily intake would still result in a higher calorie diet... whereas, my diet results in 1751 calories per day.
This is doable. I need to plan out how and when to get these calories. The trick is not to eat less than that amount or my metabolism will slow and I'll plateau again. Likewise, I'll need to eat every 4 or 5 hours to fuel that furnace, and I'll have to try REALLY hard not to eat more than my allotted caloric intake.
Come August 26th, this will be a no brainer (or so I hope)! Let the games begin!
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