Weight: Too scared to step on a scale
Mood: Speculative
Listening To: Family Guy
I once went to this restaurant with one of my girlfriends who claimed it was vegetarian. I thought to myself "no problem, I can do vegetarian!" and gladly skipped my way to the door with her. As I looked over the menu I immediately felt betrayed, confused and disgusted as I realized it was a RAW VEGAN restaurant. Instead of swearing under my breath and promptly walking out the door, I decided to give it a go. I can't remember exactly what I ate was called, but there was a lot of sprouts and some kind of vegan dressing on it. After awhile, it made me start to feel ill and I can't really tell you whether or not it was the idea of the food that made me sick, or the food itself. What I do know is that when I ate at El Pollo Loco later that night, I have never been more thankful for cooked food.
Here I am, possibly a year away from that event, but with it still crazy clear in my mind, when I am embarking on a week of being a vegetarian. It's really not for any environmental reason, or ethics reason. To fully be able to understand my newest adventure, I have to start from the best spot - the beginning.
It started the week before this past week (that would be two weeks ago to those who don't know how to count) when I was studying for the CBEST. Oh how very stressful that was. I used the Kaplan study guide, which was the worst guide I could have used, ends up. Once I sat down and took the test, I was quick to realize that Kaplan had me studying for things that weren't even touched upon on the test. I should have guessed it when Kaplan included linear algebra in a study guide for a test that has "basic education" in the title. Instead of investigating into the test off of the CBEST website, I took Kaplan's word for it and the stress was insurmountable. Did I work out to relieve the stress? Hell no. Meditation, maybe? Hell no, I needed immediate gratification. Oh hello my old friend spinach dip! Did it stop there? Hell no, I wasn't going to COOK!!! I have NO TIME to COOK!!! I'll just have to order in! I'll just do it tonight, and tomorrow I'll be good and cook. That discussion would continue in my head everyday for the entire week. I never did end up cooking.
Immediately after the test, I proceeded directly to the grocery store to shop for my 19-year-old niece and nephew that were coming in from Tennessee the following day. Hmmm . . . . . what do 19-year-olds like? Fruit? No, I don't even like fruit or veggies and I'm supposedly an adult. Well hello my old friends Doritos, Oreos, Top Ramen and White Cheddar Corn Puffs. It's been quite a long time since we've chatted. I think we should sit a spell. Especially since I won't be the only one visiting with you! I wasn't kidding myself; I knew I was going to have my fair share of visits with these old friends. During the week, I would have additional visits with other old friends like Cheeseburger, french fries, steak, cheese, chocolate and of course not to be missed - Peanut butter cups. Oh they were great visits! Unfortunately those visits will be sitting on my waist for a little while.
Once my babies left me to go back to Tennessee, I was quick to grab a trash bag to throw away the remaining Doritos and such. As I grabbed the bag, I heard them say hello and assumed we were sitting down for a visit. My arm fought me as I put them in the trash bag. I could hear them scream my name "NO!!! WE ARE SUPPOSSED TO HAVE A VISIT! JUST ONE MORE ISN'T GOING TO HURT! DON'T END IT LIKE THIS!!!" My self control somehow prevailed as I sealed the bag and put it by the door and gathered additional items to throw out. When I picked up the bag and saw bright red and orange from my old friend Doritos press up against the plastic. It taunted me, asked me not to end our relationship like this, and if I needed it had baby bags in the vending machine downstairs ready for a visit.
I wish I could say I felt relief when I threw the bag down the trash shoot, but I didn't. I felt regret that I ever said hello to these old friends again. I felt regret that I ended the relationship so abruptly. Although I knew one last visit wasn't worth it, I still think about the bright red and orange poking through at me, shining brightly and pulling me in.
To get back to healthy, I'm throwing myself on a vegetarian track for a week and being miss workout queen as well. I've got a workout scheduled for every day of the week. I'm nervous. Not so nervous about the food. Not so much nervous about the work outs, but more nervous about my self control than anything. Let's face a fact - I have no self control when it comes to food. I admit it, and it certainly shows on my figure. In any case, I treated myself to an Indian dinner as a send off and good luck, wrote down all of my vegetarian recipes for the week and took a sleeping pill to try and catch a little bit of a zero calorie high. Let the games begin . . . . .
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Spinach Dip and the CBEST
Weight: Feeling Fat
Mood: Confused
Listening to: Summerboy by Lady Gaga (That was a random find, whereas Katy Perry would be all sorts on intentional.)
When I was in my late teens, I discovered something I would have a torrid affair with, lasting for years - spinach dip. I've always been a fan of the creamy delicacies and this topped my list of deliciousness. I had my first grown up moment with it when I was sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table in Indiana, talking with my cousins about my older cousins' spinach dip and how I couldn't wait to try it. A younger cousin chimed in on how it was gross and he didn't want it. I asked him if he had ever tried it before, which he hadn't. Then the dreaded grown up words came out of my mouth - don't knock it until you try it. My older cousin and mother would make me literally eat those words for two days. Somewhere around 13 years later, I found myself having a rather enjoyable visit with this very old friend who I hadn't seen in quite some time. We stopped talking once I realized how fat I got, and that this love affair had to end. As I smothered it on a roll of King's Hawaiian bread, the only thing going through my mind was that I was going to fail the CBEST.
You see, in California if you plan on working in the educational sector, you have to pass a state exam called the CBEST. It stands for California Basic Education something or other. The test consists of writing, reading and math. I've never been scared of any of these subjects, and since I went up to pre-cal in college - and liked it - I wasn't really intimidated. I always regretted not going further in math. I enjoyed the high I got knowing that I could solve those kind of problems with ease. It made me feel . . . well, smart.
For the past few weeks, I had been lightly studying all math, never really touching on the reading or writing, even though a previous practice test revealed the trickery of their questions. The skill isn't how well I understand the question or material; it's how well I understand the trickery of the questions. I have been amused over the past few weeks on how linear algebra was not a problem even after all these years. However, fractions and decimals were rocking my world . . . So I concentrated on the math, thinking reading and writing was in the bag. Until today, that is.
I finished my internships last week, and knew that this entire week was going to be dedicated to studying for the CBEST. Even with the interruptions of doctor's appointments and people climbing over the fence onto my patio I still managed to get some good study time in. After taking a practice test last night, and realizing that my scores were lower the then when I took the assessment test a few months ago (how the hell does that happen??), I zeroed in on things I needed to study more.
So today, I'm taking the full test. Roll up your sleeves, girl and get ready to prove you know this stuff! The great state of Cali wants you to prove it, so prove it. First test up - reading. Gawd these sections are boring. I'm totally getting distracted. What? Where would I find this lovely piece of literature? This is an actual question? What does that have to do with how well I read it? Hmmm. Magazine looks good. Gawd I can't wait until this is over. How many more questions do I have to go? 34, huh? This is going to take forever. . . . . Ah, finally done. I don't think I really even read those last few questions, but I'm totally confident on all my answers. Where is the answer key. Huh . . . I got that one wrong. Well, one or two is bound to happen. . . . Wait, that was three in a row that was wrong . . . what the hell is going on here?!!?? Damn. That score adds up to 66%. That's not even passing for my standards. Nowhere near passing. How the hell did I miss so many questions? Where are the answer explanations? What the hell do they mean that is the answer? For one, that's the dumbest question I've ever been asked, it's a trick question and I totally disagree with you. Who the hell wrote this test? I bet it was a cocky man who thinks the world of himself. Who else would come up with this crap? Well . . . . . at least I know I really have to think like a tricky asshole if I plan on passing this test. Fuck I hate that. I'm going to take a break. Zara should be calling me any minute.
As I sat on the couch fantasizing of telling off the jerk who wrote this test, I could feel the pain of my subconscious trying to decipher the way this test is formulated and how to think like the test writers think, who I am now working under the assumption are idiots. So, how to do you think like an idiot?
Zara eventually called and I went to go pick her up, and I could still feel myself on auto-pilot, slowing converting my thoughts over the math, which was the next test to be taken. Once I fought LA traffic and landed her in my car, we headed to the grocery store so she could pick up a birthday cake for the man in her life. I was dressed like a slob in jeans, sparkly flip flops and my oversized UCLA sweatshirt. I didn't have a trace of make up on and my hair was completely pulled back in a clip. I was studying for a huge test; beauty was not a priority at this point. The deeper we got into the grocery store, the more in a math trance I fell. I could no longer complete sentences because the only thing running through my head was "x squared minus the root of 25 equals what? Isn't there a formula for that? Speaking of formulas, one half the base times the height - that's for the area of a triangle right? Coefficients. Those are easy. What are those again?" I could feel myself getting deeper and deeper into this state, and not being able to understand or answer simple questions like "Paper or plastic?" I found myself avoiding eye contact because I knew that as soon as I made it, that stranger behind the counter would realize that I was totally not there, because my subconscious was taking over and when they looked at me, they would think there was nothing going through my head. I would look at them like Bambi staring into the lights of an oncoming Buick, while I tried desperately to decipher the meaning between paper and plastic. Was this a trick question? THERE ARE JUST SO MANY TRICK QUESTIONS!!! . . . . . . Ooooh, look, spinach dip!
I later went home and took the math test. I scored lower than the night before, in which I scored lower than the initial assessment I took months ago. So as I stood in my kitchen, enjoying the visit with my old friend spinach dip, I began to wonder something. I began to wonder if I was an idiot. I always thought I was one of the smartest people I know. But maybe this proves my theory true - when you're stupid, you don't know you're stupid. Fuck that would suck for me.
Mood: Confused
Listening to: Summerboy by Lady Gaga (That was a random find, whereas Katy Perry would be all sorts on intentional.)
When I was in my late teens, I discovered something I would have a torrid affair with, lasting for years - spinach dip. I've always been a fan of the creamy delicacies and this topped my list of deliciousness. I had my first grown up moment with it when I was sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table in Indiana, talking with my cousins about my older cousins' spinach dip and how I couldn't wait to try it. A younger cousin chimed in on how it was gross and he didn't want it. I asked him if he had ever tried it before, which he hadn't. Then the dreaded grown up words came out of my mouth - don't knock it until you try it. My older cousin and mother would make me literally eat those words for two days. Somewhere around 13 years later, I found myself having a rather enjoyable visit with this very old friend who I hadn't seen in quite some time. We stopped talking once I realized how fat I got, and that this love affair had to end. As I smothered it on a roll of King's Hawaiian bread, the only thing going through my mind was that I was going to fail the CBEST.
You see, in California if you plan on working in the educational sector, you have to pass a state exam called the CBEST. It stands for California Basic Education something or other. The test consists of writing, reading and math. I've never been scared of any of these subjects, and since I went up to pre-cal in college - and liked it - I wasn't really intimidated. I always regretted not going further in math. I enjoyed the high I got knowing that I could solve those kind of problems with ease. It made me feel . . . well, smart.
For the past few weeks, I had been lightly studying all math, never really touching on the reading or writing, even though a previous practice test revealed the trickery of their questions. The skill isn't how well I understand the question or material; it's how well I understand the trickery of the questions. I have been amused over the past few weeks on how linear algebra was not a problem even after all these years. However, fractions and decimals were rocking my world . . . So I concentrated on the math, thinking reading and writing was in the bag. Until today, that is.
I finished my internships last week, and knew that this entire week was going to be dedicated to studying for the CBEST. Even with the interruptions of doctor's appointments and people climbing over the fence onto my patio I still managed to get some good study time in. After taking a practice test last night, and realizing that my scores were lower the then when I took the assessment test a few months ago (how the hell does that happen??), I zeroed in on things I needed to study more.
So today, I'm taking the full test. Roll up your sleeves, girl and get ready to prove you know this stuff! The great state of Cali wants you to prove it, so prove it. First test up - reading. Gawd these sections are boring. I'm totally getting distracted. What? Where would I find this lovely piece of literature? This is an actual question? What does that have to do with how well I read it? Hmmm. Magazine looks good. Gawd I can't wait until this is over. How many more questions do I have to go? 34, huh? This is going to take forever. . . . . Ah, finally done. I don't think I really even read those last few questions, but I'm totally confident on all my answers. Where is the answer key. Huh . . . I got that one wrong. Well, one or two is bound to happen. . . . Wait, that was three in a row that was wrong . . . what the hell is going on here?!!?? Damn. That score adds up to 66%. That's not even passing for my standards. Nowhere near passing. How the hell did I miss so many questions? Where are the answer explanations? What the hell do they mean that is the answer? For one, that's the dumbest question I've ever been asked, it's a trick question and I totally disagree with you. Who the hell wrote this test? I bet it was a cocky man who thinks the world of himself. Who else would come up with this crap? Well . . . . . at least I know I really have to think like a tricky asshole if I plan on passing this test. Fuck I hate that. I'm going to take a break. Zara should be calling me any minute.
As I sat on the couch fantasizing of telling off the jerk who wrote this test, I could feel the pain of my subconscious trying to decipher the way this test is formulated and how to think like the test writers think, who I am now working under the assumption are idiots. So, how to do you think like an idiot?
Zara eventually called and I went to go pick her up, and I could still feel myself on auto-pilot, slowing converting my thoughts over the math, which was the next test to be taken. Once I fought LA traffic and landed her in my car, we headed to the grocery store so she could pick up a birthday cake for the man in her life. I was dressed like a slob in jeans, sparkly flip flops and my oversized UCLA sweatshirt. I didn't have a trace of make up on and my hair was completely pulled back in a clip. I was studying for a huge test; beauty was not a priority at this point. The deeper we got into the grocery store, the more in a math trance I fell. I could no longer complete sentences because the only thing running through my head was "x squared minus the root of 25 equals what? Isn't there a formula for that? Speaking of formulas, one half the base times the height - that's for the area of a triangle right? Coefficients. Those are easy. What are those again?" I could feel myself getting deeper and deeper into this state, and not being able to understand or answer simple questions like "Paper or plastic?" I found myself avoiding eye contact because I knew that as soon as I made it, that stranger behind the counter would realize that I was totally not there, because my subconscious was taking over and when they looked at me, they would think there was nothing going through my head. I would look at them like Bambi staring into the lights of an oncoming Buick, while I tried desperately to decipher the meaning between paper and plastic. Was this a trick question? THERE ARE JUST SO MANY TRICK QUESTIONS!!! . . . . . . Ooooh, look, spinach dip!
I later went home and took the math test. I scored lower than the night before, in which I scored lower than the initial assessment I took months ago. So as I stood in my kitchen, enjoying the visit with my old friend spinach dip, I began to wonder something. I began to wonder if I was an idiot. I always thought I was one of the smartest people I know. But maybe this proves my theory true - when you're stupid, you don't know you're stupid. Fuck that would suck for me.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Challenge
Weight: 12 pounds lighter
Mood: Freakin' Fantastic
Listening To: Cherry Lips by Garbage, oh yeah!
Every time I walk from my car to Lincoln High in East LA, I pass this house that is okay. It's not completely worn down like the others on the block, but it's not the best on the block either. The first animal I ever saw in the yard was an aging Chihuahua. In the passing weeks we would share moments of him barking at cars - not people, and me trying to wake him up when I thought he might have been dead. To my surprise I also discovered two turtles that like to wander around the yard, and check out people as they pass by. They get rather courageous in sticking their heads up and looking right at you at the edge of the gate. Every time I pass by, I hope to say hello to the turtles, but they have a mind of their own and aren't always around.
This morning was no different than any other when I passed the house, but it was totally different when I arrived on campus. I thought I was going to be working with this counselor who I "lovingly" call Miss Stupid Head. Mostly because she wants to be the popular girl on campus with the kids - not their counselor. I have a strong suspicion she didn't have many friends in High School. When I arrived at the office where she is located, she was not as her desk as usual. So I headed over to her mom's office. (Yeah, her mom is a counselor on the campus, too. . . . I'll give you a moment to let that sink in . . . . . moving forward.) They let me know that there is a meeting today, and Miss Stupid Head doesn't have any work for me to do today. Did someone say early day??
At the meeting, two things happened. I desperately wanted to give Miss Stupid Head some sort of pill so she would start using her indoor voice, not her outdoor voice; and the counselor that I have learned the most from is out indefinitely for "medical" reasons. Really, word around campus is that he is getting cut loose. As I contemplated the reasons why they would try to move him out and not Miss Stupid Head, I decided to use this to my advantage.
I aggressively, sneakily, wiggled my way into his spot. Hey, I can pick up his slack! Not a problem! You want me to program classes, not a problem. Did I mention that I'm looking for a job? What do you think of hiring me on for next year??
It took me somewhere around two hours to organize all of the crap on his desk to get some sense of order and what the hell I was doing, anyway. Once I had a plan in line, it all went to crap. Students were in and out all day - Hey Miss, can I have this? Hey Miss, can I have that? Miss, what about this?? And I ended my day with a senior who will have to take 2 classes over the summer, and he's considering dropping out because of that . . . . really??
The day just FLEW by and I loved every minute of it. I controlled my impulse to also organize the desk drawers. Don't want to go too crazy in case he's coming back. I'll wait until next week to do that.
So with this pumped feeling of joy and accomplishment, I have decided to put into action a plan I've been tossing around for the past few days - as soon as Brian steps foot out the door, I am not drinking alcohol for two weeks. Well, okay he leaves Tuesday and I'm starting Monday, but you get the point. I wonder how long this will last, but I'm sure there will be multiple blogs on it. . . . .
Now if you will excuse me, I have to go work off the Salvadorian food with some Wii boxing . . . .
Mood: Freakin' Fantastic
Listening To: Cherry Lips by Garbage, oh yeah!
Every time I walk from my car to Lincoln High in East LA, I pass this house that is okay. It's not completely worn down like the others on the block, but it's not the best on the block either. The first animal I ever saw in the yard was an aging Chihuahua. In the passing weeks we would share moments of him barking at cars - not people, and me trying to wake him up when I thought he might have been dead. To my surprise I also discovered two turtles that like to wander around the yard, and check out people as they pass by. They get rather courageous in sticking their heads up and looking right at you at the edge of the gate. Every time I pass by, I hope to say hello to the turtles, but they have a mind of their own and aren't always around.
This morning was no different than any other when I passed the house, but it was totally different when I arrived on campus. I thought I was going to be working with this counselor who I "lovingly" call Miss Stupid Head. Mostly because she wants to be the popular girl on campus with the kids - not their counselor. I have a strong suspicion she didn't have many friends in High School. When I arrived at the office where she is located, she was not as her desk as usual. So I headed over to her mom's office. (Yeah, her mom is a counselor on the campus, too. . . . I'll give you a moment to let that sink in . . . . . moving forward.) They let me know that there is a meeting today, and Miss Stupid Head doesn't have any work for me to do today. Did someone say early day??
At the meeting, two things happened. I desperately wanted to give Miss Stupid Head some sort of pill so she would start using her indoor voice, not her outdoor voice; and the counselor that I have learned the most from is out indefinitely for "medical" reasons. Really, word around campus is that he is getting cut loose. As I contemplated the reasons why they would try to move him out and not Miss Stupid Head, I decided to use this to my advantage.
I aggressively, sneakily, wiggled my way into his spot. Hey, I can pick up his slack! Not a problem! You want me to program classes, not a problem. Did I mention that I'm looking for a job? What do you think of hiring me on for next year??
It took me somewhere around two hours to organize all of the crap on his desk to get some sense of order and what the hell I was doing, anyway. Once I had a plan in line, it all went to crap. Students were in and out all day - Hey Miss, can I have this? Hey Miss, can I have that? Miss, what about this?? And I ended my day with a senior who will have to take 2 classes over the summer, and he's considering dropping out because of that . . . . really??
The day just FLEW by and I loved every minute of it. I controlled my impulse to also organize the desk drawers. Don't want to go too crazy in case he's coming back. I'll wait until next week to do that.
So with this pumped feeling of joy and accomplishment, I have decided to put into action a plan I've been tossing around for the past few days - as soon as Brian steps foot out the door, I am not drinking alcohol for two weeks. Well, okay he leaves Tuesday and I'm starting Monday, but you get the point. I wonder how long this will last, but I'm sure there will be multiple blogs on it. . . . .
Now if you will excuse me, I have to go work off the Salvadorian food with some Wii boxing . . . .
Friday, April 24, 2009
Yoga Pants and T-Shirts
Weight: 10 lbs lighter
Listening to: First Time by Lifehouse
Mood: Good but headachy. Hungry, maybe? I'm gonna rip open a pack of garlic parmesan pretzels - 2 points.
For the last couple of weeks, when I go to a Weight Watchers meeting I've noticed that there is a group of older adults who are rather familiar with one another. It's pretty evident that they have been coming to meetings for quite some time, and there have been talks about how they walk together for their work outs. It usually leaves me wondering if for them Weight Watchers is more a social event then a weight loss event. As that kind of frustrated me, I ignored it for the most part, but also took active note that they were never dressed very nicely. It was always loose, workout clothes that weren't very fashionable. Could they really be working out after the meetings every week? I kinda get the feeling that they don't work out THAT much. I don't even remember hearing about any of them hitting any sort of weight loss milestones. So if they are here to get out of the house and socialize, what is up with the workout clothes? Well, whatever. I'll just take pride in my cute little scarves, fashionable t's and slowly loosening jeans. It wasn't long until I found myself in work out clothes at a Weight Watchers meeting. But I digress; I must start from the beginning.
I ended up skipping a meeting last week, and although I was weighing myself almost daily, I knew I wasn't eating very well and to hell with working out with a knee injury. I had been developing this rather enjoyable, but rather bad pattern of behaviors called "happy hour." Gavin introduced me to the one at Enterprise Fish Co (see previous logs) and since then I've been happy hour McCrazy. The always adorable Chanthy came to town on day, and we hit up Barney's Beanery's happy hour - which sucks, but we still stayed - and had a multitude of drinks and fried foods. Then one sunny afternoon Brian remembered that Gyukaku has a happy hour and we ended up there - which is the best happy hour in the city. Ten 99 cent draft beers later we were on our way out the door. That was immediately followed by binging on more beer, pizza and somewhere gelato came into the mix.
After that happy hour, I told Brian I'm giving up alcohol for awhile! All it does is cloud my better food judgment and makes me fat! I'm already fat! I don't need to be more fat! So, almost a week sober and I have a raging head ache. Coincidence? (Ha-ha, totally kidding, I know it's a sinus headache, dam pollen.) Well, that might have stopped the drinking, but that didn't stop the binging! After I polished off the bag of chocolate chips in the cupboard, I found myself desperately searching for the Reese's peanut butter cups that HAD to be somewhere in the kitchen, although I knew they weren't. What the hell? Why am I binging like this? Maybe I broke up with my therapist too soon . . . . I'm just going to go to my bedroom with this popcorn that's one point and try to forget about the peanut butter cups. Albertson’s needs to carry the weight watcher's version. Dam them for not carrying them!!!! DAM THEM!!!!
This morning was the moment of truth. No sleeping in, no doctor's appointments, I was going to a meeting. I stepped on the scale in the bathroom to help prep me for the disappointment I would feel at the meeting, because inevitably the scales there always say one pound heavier. Huh. That's not so bad. In fact, if the scale at weight watchers is the same, that means I've lost ten pounds. Why is that stupid scale always higher than the one in my bathroom? How can I keep this consistent until then? Of course I'm not eating until I weigh in, but I never do. How do I keep this?
That's when I remembered the yoga clothes I have, that I "discovered" when I was looking for something to wear to physical therapy. For those of you that aren't keeping up - I injured my left knee a few weeks ago, to the point where walking up stairs is a painful process and I've been limping around on it up until recently. I had a stroke of genius when I decided to see a physical therapist, and had my first appointment a week ago, which is why I missed my weight watchers meeting. I highly suggest everyone go to physical therapy, if only for a consultation. As I am laughing at certain weaknesses in my body, I am also learning how to fix them. Yesterday she strapped me into this Pilates machine, which good gawd am I sore today, but getting the ultrasound therapy on my knee made it all worth it.
Gawd those clothes are comfy. Huh. I wonder if I wear it to the meeting, if the scale will register the same there. Fuck, I'm going to be like one of those old people at the meeting that annoy me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want this pound, I want my 5% stars, I'm doing it.
Indeed the scale did register the same as the one in my bathroom. Maybe these old people are on to something. Or maybe they're just old and want to be comfortable. Who gives a crap; I got to my 5% goal. But of course I got in the line with the inept lady behind the computer that originally said I gained weight. Upon review of the notes and consultation with the meeting leader, it was confirmed that I was down 10 pounds. I was happy, and I wanted my dam stickers. However, this stupid lady forgot to write it down on the list, so I didn't get acknowledged and I didn't get my dam stickers. ALL I WANT ARE THOSE DAM STICKERS!!!!! Okay, calm down, what do I do? Do I ask the team leader for them after the meeting? Do I raise my hand and say "EXCUSE THE HELL OUT OF ME, I BELONG ON THAT STUPID LIST, TOO, AND I WANT THE STUPID STICKERS I EARNED, GAWD DAM IT!!!!!" No, no . . . . I think I'll refrain myself. I'm just going to sit here and pout until I calm down. Instead of making a big deal out of it after the meeting, I'll mention it when I weigh in next week. I'm going to get those stupid stickers at some point, and I'm going to put them on my stupid weigh in book.
But I can't just go about my day and not acknowledge this. Yeah, I texted a few people, but hell I should be happy about this, right?? How should I reward myself? Maybe I should just get those peanut butter cups I was hunting down last night. But they go by so fast! It's hard to savor that for a long time and I'm not going to bullshit myself and say I'll eat one now and another one later. Oooh! I know what I'll get myself. . . . .
Ten minutes later I was driving away from Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf with a small decaf soy latte. It was three points.
Listening to: First Time by Lifehouse
Mood: Good but headachy. Hungry, maybe? I'm gonna rip open a pack of garlic parmesan pretzels - 2 points.
For the last couple of weeks, when I go to a Weight Watchers meeting I've noticed that there is a group of older adults who are rather familiar with one another. It's pretty evident that they have been coming to meetings for quite some time, and there have been talks about how they walk together for their work outs. It usually leaves me wondering if for them Weight Watchers is more a social event then a weight loss event. As that kind of frustrated me, I ignored it for the most part, but also took active note that they were never dressed very nicely. It was always loose, workout clothes that weren't very fashionable. Could they really be working out after the meetings every week? I kinda get the feeling that they don't work out THAT much. I don't even remember hearing about any of them hitting any sort of weight loss milestones. So if they are here to get out of the house and socialize, what is up with the workout clothes? Well, whatever. I'll just take pride in my cute little scarves, fashionable t's and slowly loosening jeans. It wasn't long until I found myself in work out clothes at a Weight Watchers meeting. But I digress; I must start from the beginning.
I ended up skipping a meeting last week, and although I was weighing myself almost daily, I knew I wasn't eating very well and to hell with working out with a knee injury. I had been developing this rather enjoyable, but rather bad pattern of behaviors called "happy hour." Gavin introduced me to the one at Enterprise Fish Co (see previous logs) and since then I've been happy hour McCrazy. The always adorable Chanthy came to town on day, and we hit up Barney's Beanery's happy hour - which sucks, but we still stayed - and had a multitude of drinks and fried foods. Then one sunny afternoon Brian remembered that Gyukaku has a happy hour and we ended up there - which is the best happy hour in the city. Ten 99 cent draft beers later we were on our way out the door. That was immediately followed by binging on more beer, pizza and somewhere gelato came into the mix.
After that happy hour, I told Brian I'm giving up alcohol for awhile! All it does is cloud my better food judgment and makes me fat! I'm already fat! I don't need to be more fat! So, almost a week sober and I have a raging head ache. Coincidence? (Ha-ha, totally kidding, I know it's a sinus headache, dam pollen.) Well, that might have stopped the drinking, but that didn't stop the binging! After I polished off the bag of chocolate chips in the cupboard, I found myself desperately searching for the Reese's peanut butter cups that HAD to be somewhere in the kitchen, although I knew they weren't. What the hell? Why am I binging like this? Maybe I broke up with my therapist too soon . . . . I'm just going to go to my bedroom with this popcorn that's one point and try to forget about the peanut butter cups. Albertson’s needs to carry the weight watcher's version. Dam them for not carrying them!!!! DAM THEM!!!!
This morning was the moment of truth. No sleeping in, no doctor's appointments, I was going to a meeting. I stepped on the scale in the bathroom to help prep me for the disappointment I would feel at the meeting, because inevitably the scales there always say one pound heavier. Huh. That's not so bad. In fact, if the scale at weight watchers is the same, that means I've lost ten pounds. Why is that stupid scale always higher than the one in my bathroom? How can I keep this consistent until then? Of course I'm not eating until I weigh in, but I never do. How do I keep this?
That's when I remembered the yoga clothes I have, that I "discovered" when I was looking for something to wear to physical therapy. For those of you that aren't keeping up - I injured my left knee a few weeks ago, to the point where walking up stairs is a painful process and I've been limping around on it up until recently. I had a stroke of genius when I decided to see a physical therapist, and had my first appointment a week ago, which is why I missed my weight watchers meeting. I highly suggest everyone go to physical therapy, if only for a consultation. As I am laughing at certain weaknesses in my body, I am also learning how to fix them. Yesterday she strapped me into this Pilates machine, which good gawd am I sore today, but getting the ultrasound therapy on my knee made it all worth it.
Gawd those clothes are comfy. Huh. I wonder if I wear it to the meeting, if the scale will register the same there. Fuck, I'm going to be like one of those old people at the meeting that annoy me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want this pound, I want my 5% stars, I'm doing it.
Indeed the scale did register the same as the one in my bathroom. Maybe these old people are on to something. Or maybe they're just old and want to be comfortable. Who gives a crap; I got to my 5% goal. But of course I got in the line with the inept lady behind the computer that originally said I gained weight. Upon review of the notes and consultation with the meeting leader, it was confirmed that I was down 10 pounds. I was happy, and I wanted my dam stickers. However, this stupid lady forgot to write it down on the list, so I didn't get acknowledged and I didn't get my dam stickers. ALL I WANT ARE THOSE DAM STICKERS!!!!! Okay, calm down, what do I do? Do I ask the team leader for them after the meeting? Do I raise my hand and say "EXCUSE THE HELL OUT OF ME, I BELONG ON THAT STUPID LIST, TOO, AND I WANT THE STUPID STICKERS I EARNED, GAWD DAM IT!!!!!" No, no . . . . I think I'll refrain myself. I'm just going to sit here and pout until I calm down. Instead of making a big deal out of it after the meeting, I'll mention it when I weigh in next week. I'm going to get those stupid stickers at some point, and I'm going to put them on my stupid weigh in book.
But I can't just go about my day and not acknowledge this. Yeah, I texted a few people, but hell I should be happy about this, right?? How should I reward myself? Maybe I should just get those peanut butter cups I was hunting down last night. But they go by so fast! It's hard to savor that for a long time and I'm not going to bullshit myself and say I'll eat one now and another one later. Oooh! I know what I'll get myself. . . . .
Ten minutes later I was driving away from Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf with a small decaf soy latte. It was three points.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Everything Fried and Alcoholic
Weight: 6.5 lbs lighter
Listening to: Unsolved Mysteries
Mood: Good
Every so often I run into someone who dyes their hair, and have by now forgotten what their natural hair color is. I always thought that was a little ridiculous, until I realized that I have long since forgotten what my natural hair style is. I'm usually straightening it, putting it up in curlers or using a very specific combination of hair products to "enhance the natural curl" that I've totally forgotten what it looks like when I do nothing to it. Today I find myself letting my hair dry on its own to see where it ends up. So far so good. It's still curly, but still has yet to show how curly it is. And I really did forget how incredibly soft it is. After the craziness of spring break and Easter, I'm spending my last day of "vacation" watching my hair dry and doing laundry.
It had been so long since I have actually had a Spring Break, that I forgot how to handle myself and spent most of it buzzed on a variety of alcohols and chowing down on cheese burgers and sweet potato fries. (The Counter has the best sweet potato fries, if you're on the search.) I actually did try to balance it out by eating light for most days out of the week, but I certainly did have my fill of gluttonous behavior. So when Friday morning came around, I wasn't going to bullshit myself.
I knew I had totally indulged in everything fried and alcoholic and I had a total disregard to my fatness. So when I stepped on that scale of torture, I was praying that I maintained my weight, at the very least. My prayers were not answered that morning, when I discovered that I actually had gained back one pound. But that's when something interesting happened. Having gained back that one pound gave me more motivation to staying on track and counting my points then when I lost five pounds! Huh. Well, let's not make this a habit . . . .
I carefully listened to everything they talked about, wrote down some notes and burned TEEN into my memory - Try Everything, Eat Nothing. That was going to be my plan for Easter! I had decided to make Easter dinner on my own for two reasons - 1) to have more control over the menu, and thus make it healthier. That didn't work out so well. I still have a pound of butter sitting in the fridge, if you need any. And 2) Kai and Shelby, who ended up not going to my sister's after all.
Maybe if I had gone to my sister's I would have avoided the near death experience of my thumb. There I was happily slicing veggies on a mandolin slicer until my thumb decided to pick a fight with the blade . . . . . . . . and lost. After swearing and jumping up and down a bit, I ran to the bathroom to put it under water. Oh my gawd it hurt SO BAD. AND WHERE THE HELL IS BRIAN?? HERE I AM DIEING AND HE IS NOWHERE!! Oh, wait there he is. We were both kind of shocked by the amount of blood a small little cut could cause, and believe me it was all over the bathroom counter. It wasn't clotting very quickly, and it bled through the first band-aide. I didn't think I needed a stitch, so I held my hand up over my head in the kitchen while I played supervisor in the kitchen to Zara and Brian for the rest of the event.
All in all, I think dinner turned out well and everyone seemed to enjoy it. So today I'm resting up my thumb and recovering the place from Easter. It's also a little funny that I decided today to watch my hair dry, since today is my recommitment to my points, and believe me after yesterday I have no extra points in my back pocket. I'm also looking forward to Friday morning, which will be my first session with a physical therapist to try and recover my knee. I have no idea what to expect, but I do know this - is some sort of semblance of a workout, which is what I desperately need at this point!
Listening to: Unsolved Mysteries
Mood: Good
Every so often I run into someone who dyes their hair, and have by now forgotten what their natural hair color is. I always thought that was a little ridiculous, until I realized that I have long since forgotten what my natural hair style is. I'm usually straightening it, putting it up in curlers or using a very specific combination of hair products to "enhance the natural curl" that I've totally forgotten what it looks like when I do nothing to it. Today I find myself letting my hair dry on its own to see where it ends up. So far so good. It's still curly, but still has yet to show how curly it is. And I really did forget how incredibly soft it is. After the craziness of spring break and Easter, I'm spending my last day of "vacation" watching my hair dry and doing laundry.
It had been so long since I have actually had a Spring Break, that I forgot how to handle myself and spent most of it buzzed on a variety of alcohols and chowing down on cheese burgers and sweet potato fries. (The Counter has the best sweet potato fries, if you're on the search.) I actually did try to balance it out by eating light for most days out of the week, but I certainly did have my fill of gluttonous behavior. So when Friday morning came around, I wasn't going to bullshit myself.
I knew I had totally indulged in everything fried and alcoholic and I had a total disregard to my fatness. So when I stepped on that scale of torture, I was praying that I maintained my weight, at the very least. My prayers were not answered that morning, when I discovered that I actually had gained back one pound. But that's when something interesting happened. Having gained back that one pound gave me more motivation to staying on track and counting my points then when I lost five pounds! Huh. Well, let's not make this a habit . . . .
I carefully listened to everything they talked about, wrote down some notes and burned TEEN into my memory - Try Everything, Eat Nothing. That was going to be my plan for Easter! I had decided to make Easter dinner on my own for two reasons - 1) to have more control over the menu, and thus make it healthier. That didn't work out so well. I still have a pound of butter sitting in the fridge, if you need any. And 2) Kai and Shelby, who ended up not going to my sister's after all.
Maybe if I had gone to my sister's I would have avoided the near death experience of my thumb. There I was happily slicing veggies on a mandolin slicer until my thumb decided to pick a fight with the blade . . . . . . . . and lost. After swearing and jumping up and down a bit, I ran to the bathroom to put it under water. Oh my gawd it hurt SO BAD. AND WHERE THE HELL IS BRIAN?? HERE I AM DIEING AND HE IS NOWHERE!! Oh, wait there he is. We were both kind of shocked by the amount of blood a small little cut could cause, and believe me it was all over the bathroom counter. It wasn't clotting very quickly, and it bled through the first band-aide. I didn't think I needed a stitch, so I held my hand up over my head in the kitchen while I played supervisor in the kitchen to Zara and Brian for the rest of the event.
All in all, I think dinner turned out well and everyone seemed to enjoy it. So today I'm resting up my thumb and recovering the place from Easter. It's also a little funny that I decided today to watch my hair dry, since today is my recommitment to my points, and believe me after yesterday I have no extra points in my back pocket. I'm also looking forward to Friday morning, which will be my first session with a physical therapist to try and recover my knee. I have no idea what to expect, but I do know this - is some sort of semblance of a workout, which is what I desperately need at this point!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Really, Disappointment?
Weight: 7.5 lbs lighter
Listening to: Some random, horrible movie
Mood: Mellow
This past Friday meant another meeting of the fats. Since I had lost 5 lbs the week before, I set myself up in my mind to lose another 5. Although, I did find myself begging God to give me just one pound. When I stepped on the scale of torture, I discovered I lost another 2.6 lbs.! This is where I should have felt excitement. Strangely enough, I felt disappointment. I had set myself up to lose another 5 lbs, when realistically you should expect 2 - 3 lbs a week as success.
It was great losing the five in one week, but it definitely set up an expectation in my head. Hopefully I'll know better in the future.
In any case, I'm back to elevating and icing my knee AGAIN 'cause I got too confident on it earlier today. Good lawrd this is beginning to get obnoxious.
Oh, and I also blew all of my extra points for the week on dinner with Brian . . . . and I loved every minute of it!
Listening to: Some random, horrible movie
Mood: Mellow
This past Friday meant another meeting of the fats. Since I had lost 5 lbs the week before, I set myself up in my mind to lose another 5. Although, I did find myself begging God to give me just one pound. When I stepped on the scale of torture, I discovered I lost another 2.6 lbs.! This is where I should have felt excitement. Strangely enough, I felt disappointment. I had set myself up to lose another 5 lbs, when realistically you should expect 2 - 3 lbs a week as success.
It was great losing the five in one week, but it definitely set up an expectation in my head. Hopefully I'll know better in the future.
In any case, I'm back to elevating and icing my knee AGAIN 'cause I got too confident on it earlier today. Good lawrd this is beginning to get obnoxious.
Oh, and I also blew all of my extra points for the week on dinner with Brian . . . . and I loved every minute of it!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I Could Have Had the Large Fries for That
Weight: 5lbs lighter
Listening To: Morningside by Sara Barielles
Mood: Happy and Bouncy
I'm a huge believer in the crunchy on the outside, and soft and explosive on the inside. I can spot the perfect fry, and am very picky about my egg rolls. It's incredibly difficult to find a good egg roll in this city, and I found them at a restaurant down the street that I usually get delivery from. When I drive by and take a look at it tho, I deny it's where I really order from. They also have an amazing curry, and I can usually get white meat only chicken for a buck extra. Ah, those were the days. Not much unlike today where I found myself eating an egg roll.
To understand the situation completely, I have to explain that the week was nothing that I had planned on. It started out the way I expected, but lunches morphed into something that was totally unplanned for and totally uncalled for.
On Monday and Tuesday I was working with the High School. We had set up camp at the Middle School this week to get 'em while they're young, wait that was private industry, I meant to transition the eighth graders to High School. I packed up my lunch on Monday, like the good little dieter I am, only to discover that the counselors wanted to have lunch together. Wait. This isn't what I planned! We never have lunch together! What? You want to have Mexican food? You guys are trying to keep me fat, aren't you? This is bullshit. Am I hyperventilating? Where the hell is my phone?
I reached out to those who have been a ridiculous support team for me in the whole process - Brian and my comrade, Maia. I also reached out to one of the chicklet twins 'cause I figured if I wanna be a skinny bitch, I should ask one what she would order. Yeah, she was no help. Brian and Maia did their best to help me come up with a solution. Oder and only eat half? Don't go? Then I got it! I would have the lunch I brought before we go! It filled me up enough to resist the tacos they were shoving at me but I did sneak a few chips and salsa in there, all counted in my points! I was pretty proud of myself.
On Tuesday the chicklet twins were also working at the middle school, 'cause that is their regular internship placement. They were easier to negotiate with on lunch, and I split the meal with the aforementioned twin. Bless her little heart.
Today, well, today was a totally different story. Those Glaceau guys reached out to me, wanting to have lunch on Wednesday, to return my computer and sign the final lay off paperwork. They wanted to meet early in the day, but I had a commitment at the adult school that couldn't be changed. So I told them to go ahead and have lunch without me, and I would meet them later to turn in my computer and sign the paperwork. I knew it was a tight fit, and at first I thought I could pound down one of my weight watcher meals and head out to Buena Park for the meeting. That didn't happen, and by the time I left the adult school I was starving and I didn't want to sit through this meeting starving, besides I had stuff I had to do later in the day as well. I can't go hungry. I need to dashboard dine. But where? Hmmmmmm. No tacos. Those are too hard to eat on the freeway and it won't fill me up. A hamburger? Maybe a small, simple one. I remember them being like 6 points, or something. Perfect.
I pulled up to the golden arches and took a look at the menu. Wait a minute, chicken mcnuggets. Those are even less. I'll get the kids meal! 4 mcnuggets and a small fry. Perfect portion size, and I could totally work that into my points today! Yay solutions!! And no, I don't want a drink. I don't care if 'it comes with it' lady, I told you no drink. Really? You really want me to have a drink. You got some water behind that counter? Bottled? Sure, whatever. You're really pushing those drinks. No wonder we're all fat.
As I pulled up to Panda-something in Buena, I had finished eating my fries and mcnuggets and didn't have one iota of guilt. I was comfortably full and had no real interest in Chinese food. They were supposed to have met at 11:30, so they should just be finishing up. Perfect. I walked up to their table and found, wait, what was that? . . . MENUS!!?? What the fuck, did they not eat? Oh crap they waited for me. As much as I wanted to scream bullshit, it was a really nice gesture. Dam it, dam it, dam it. What the hell am I going to do now? I can't turn down the final lunch! That would be such a bad gesture, and they waited for me. Hmm . . . lunch specials. Those should be small. Quick, look it over and figure it out. Orange chicken! It's chicken! It's a lean protein! DONE!
My now defunct counter-part arrived shortly after me and ordered exactly what I did. It made me feel like I made the right move 'cause she's stick thin. Back in the day, five months ago, I would try to discuss with her my weight loss and how I was trying to be conscious of what I ate. She would join in and tell me how fat she is, too, because she's all the way up to 130. I'm surprised I didn't get violent at times like that.
When lunch came, it wasn't small at all. Dam it, dam it, dam it. Remember, girl, split the plate in half. You've already eaten, you probably won't even eat half of it. What is she eating? Try to model it after her. She's really chowing down on that chicken. Huh. How is she so dam skinny? I mean, fuck. Wait! FOCUS! That's right! Focus! Focus on the soup and salad. Let that fill in the gaps and nibble on the chicken. Skip the rice all together.
At the end of the meal I had a cup of soup - low points, good. Salad with somewhere around a tablespoon of dressing - low points, good. One egg roll, I couldn't help it. Surprisingly low points, I can work that in - good. Let's see, I ate about a cup of the chicken, probably more like 3/4ths of a cup. WHAT THE HELL!!!?? You've gotta be kidding me? Orange chicken is HOW MANY POINTS? That's gotta be wrong. Are all the dishes that many points? Hmm . . no, no they are not. I managed to order the one item with the highest amount of points. Good job. Well, let's see how this will work out.
Yup, I've run a deficit. Well, Let's do the total math. Hmm. If I don't eat anything for the rest of the day, or use my last two extra points for today, and stay strict on track tomorrow, I should be able to come in at my point level.
I just know that tonight I'm going to be glaring at Brian while he eats the curry we made last night, and I nibble on tasteless California tomatoes. This better be worth it . . . . .
Listening To: Morningside by Sara Barielles
Mood: Happy and Bouncy
I'm a huge believer in the crunchy on the outside, and soft and explosive on the inside. I can spot the perfect fry, and am very picky about my egg rolls. It's incredibly difficult to find a good egg roll in this city, and I found them at a restaurant down the street that I usually get delivery from. When I drive by and take a look at it tho, I deny it's where I really order from. They also have an amazing curry, and I can usually get white meat only chicken for a buck extra. Ah, those were the days. Not much unlike today where I found myself eating an egg roll.
To understand the situation completely, I have to explain that the week was nothing that I had planned on. It started out the way I expected, but lunches morphed into something that was totally unplanned for and totally uncalled for.
On Monday and Tuesday I was working with the High School. We had set up camp at the Middle School this week to get 'em while they're young, wait that was private industry, I meant to transition the eighth graders to High School. I packed up my lunch on Monday, like the good little dieter I am, only to discover that the counselors wanted to have lunch together. Wait. This isn't what I planned! We never have lunch together! What? You want to have Mexican food? You guys are trying to keep me fat, aren't you? This is bullshit. Am I hyperventilating? Where the hell is my phone?
I reached out to those who have been a ridiculous support team for me in the whole process - Brian and my comrade, Maia. I also reached out to one of the chicklet twins 'cause I figured if I wanna be a skinny bitch, I should ask one what she would order. Yeah, she was no help. Brian and Maia did their best to help me come up with a solution. Oder and only eat half? Don't go? Then I got it! I would have the lunch I brought before we go! It filled me up enough to resist the tacos they were shoving at me but I did sneak a few chips and salsa in there, all counted in my points! I was pretty proud of myself.
On Tuesday the chicklet twins were also working at the middle school, 'cause that is their regular internship placement. They were easier to negotiate with on lunch, and I split the meal with the aforementioned twin. Bless her little heart.
Today, well, today was a totally different story. Those Glaceau guys reached out to me, wanting to have lunch on Wednesday, to return my computer and sign the final lay off paperwork. They wanted to meet early in the day, but I had a commitment at the adult school that couldn't be changed. So I told them to go ahead and have lunch without me, and I would meet them later to turn in my computer and sign the paperwork. I knew it was a tight fit, and at first I thought I could pound down one of my weight watcher meals and head out to Buena Park for the meeting. That didn't happen, and by the time I left the adult school I was starving and I didn't want to sit through this meeting starving, besides I had stuff I had to do later in the day as well. I can't go hungry. I need to dashboard dine. But where? Hmmmmmm. No tacos. Those are too hard to eat on the freeway and it won't fill me up. A hamburger? Maybe a small, simple one. I remember them being like 6 points, or something. Perfect.
I pulled up to the golden arches and took a look at the menu. Wait a minute, chicken mcnuggets. Those are even less. I'll get the kids meal! 4 mcnuggets and a small fry. Perfect portion size, and I could totally work that into my points today! Yay solutions!! And no, I don't want a drink. I don't care if 'it comes with it' lady, I told you no drink. Really? You really want me to have a drink. You got some water behind that counter? Bottled? Sure, whatever. You're really pushing those drinks. No wonder we're all fat.
As I pulled up to Panda-something in Buena, I had finished eating my fries and mcnuggets and didn't have one iota of guilt. I was comfortably full and had no real interest in Chinese food. They were supposed to have met at 11:30, so they should just be finishing up. Perfect. I walked up to their table and found, wait, what was that? . . . MENUS!!?? What the fuck, did they not eat? Oh crap they waited for me. As much as I wanted to scream bullshit, it was a really nice gesture. Dam it, dam it, dam it. What the hell am I going to do now? I can't turn down the final lunch! That would be such a bad gesture, and they waited for me. Hmm . . . lunch specials. Those should be small. Quick, look it over and figure it out. Orange chicken! It's chicken! It's a lean protein! DONE!
My now defunct counter-part arrived shortly after me and ordered exactly what I did. It made me feel like I made the right move 'cause she's stick thin. Back in the day, five months ago, I would try to discuss with her my weight loss and how I was trying to be conscious of what I ate. She would join in and tell me how fat she is, too, because she's all the way up to 130. I'm surprised I didn't get violent at times like that.
When lunch came, it wasn't small at all. Dam it, dam it, dam it. Remember, girl, split the plate in half. You've already eaten, you probably won't even eat half of it. What is she eating? Try to model it after her. She's really chowing down on that chicken. Huh. How is she so dam skinny? I mean, fuck. Wait! FOCUS! That's right! Focus! Focus on the soup and salad. Let that fill in the gaps and nibble on the chicken. Skip the rice all together.
At the end of the meal I had a cup of soup - low points, good. Salad with somewhere around a tablespoon of dressing - low points, good. One egg roll, I couldn't help it. Surprisingly low points, I can work that in - good. Let's see, I ate about a cup of the chicken, probably more like 3/4ths of a cup. WHAT THE HELL!!!?? You've gotta be kidding me? Orange chicken is HOW MANY POINTS? That's gotta be wrong. Are all the dishes that many points? Hmm . . no, no they are not. I managed to order the one item with the highest amount of points. Good job. Well, let's see how this will work out.
Yup, I've run a deficit. Well, Let's do the total math. Hmm. If I don't eat anything for the rest of the day, or use my last two extra points for today, and stay strict on track tomorrow, I should be able to come in at my point level.
I just know that tonight I'm going to be glaring at Brian while he eats the curry we made last night, and I nibble on tasteless California tomatoes. This better be worth it . . . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)