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Catching Up

I used to apologize to my diary for not writing in so long and promise to do better.
Nothing has changed, except that now my diary is in blog form and I let people read it. (I don't know who I was so afraid was going to break into my diary and read that I had fun at dance class that I put a lock on the thing.)
I could say I haven't written because I haven't had internet, but in spite of how it felt, I was only without it for maybe three weeks. Not 6 months. So, I apologize to my 3 faithful readers (sorry, Marcia, Erick, and Mama) and continue as if I never left.
What does it take for a house to feel like a home? The people, right? That's true I'm sure, but what does it take to make your new house feel like your home? I think it's 30% family, 20% your old stuff, and 50% time.
I LOVE our new house down to the curved corners, the rope lighting in my bedroom, and the coat closet. I even love my automatic garage door opener on my visor. I've never felt so materialistic in my life. I have a couple of things hanging on the wall already and one set of curtains up. Most of our furniture is here; the only thing left to move is basically a pile of..um, CRAP I don't know exactly what to do with. (another yard sale is in my future) But it doesn't completely feel like home yet. I still dream like I live in the duplex. Anyone who knows me (even people other than my 3 blog followers) knows I don't do change well. Or at all, really. This of course is a really awesome change that I am more than grateful for, but nevertheless, it's taking some getting used to.
Maybe blogging more will help. I'll do better. (But probably not.)

The Woman in the Mirror

I realized something today, and I wanted to know if it is just me.
When I am choosing to eat whatever I want and do (or not do) whatever I want, I'm sort of okay with how I look. I may not be happy with my size or level of squishiness, but I realize in exchange for that I'm eating all the cookies I want. So there.
However, now that thankfully I have a more realistic handle of what goes into my mouth and how many steps I take a day, I'm quite frustrated with my reflection. I really want immediate gratification. I want someone to know that I didn't eat the cake at the faculty meeting (or the doughnuts by the sign in sheet OR the cookies my hairdresser offered me, etc.) without me having to tell them. Wouldn't that be nice? For every good choice you make *POOF~!* another pound gone.
The least I should be able to do is choose where I lose first. I'm one of those lucky girls who gains an ounce and it goes straight to her FACE. I can hide a mushroom top in layers, and black pants can do wonders for my thighs. But there ain't no hidin' this soft plushy glow underneath my original chin.
I try telling myself what I've heard on Biggest Loser: you did this to yourself, now you can get yourself out of it. Yeaaaahhh....that doesn't make me feel better.
Instead, I'll keep reminding myself that if I keep it up, eventually I won't take up so much of the mirror. Until then, friends, I apologize that I will continue to inform you when I passed by a bowl of chocolates (sigh) or huffed on the treadmill.

Dear Diet

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Dear Diet,
I will not give up my sweet tea at lunch.
I will make myself ride 8 miles on the only machine in the gym without a TV (because it's the only bike left). I will eat Colon Blow cereal and drink waterwaterwaterwater.
I will also drink sweet tea at lunch.
I will wear my pedometer and log my progress on my awesome DS Weight Loss coach (thanks, Santa!). I will walk the equivalent of an Olympic Marathon in two days.
I will celebrate my victories with sweet tea.
Why, you ask, am I sabotaging myself with this sugary solution? Oh, my friend, your job is to teach people to control their cravings and binges. That is what we have in common. My job is to teach young minds to control their spasms and impulses. What you have that I do not is your invisibility cloak and your lack of feeling. You can skulk away at will while I am sentenced to sit and dine with my subjects. THAT is why I will be drinking my sweet tea.
I will eat my low-fat low-sodium low-taste soup and cardboard crackers. But you know what I'll be drinking. So just back off. I've got this.
Sincerely,
Your frequent visitor

Fitness Goals...

Erick and I joined Anytime Fitness at the beginning of the month or end of December, whichever. We felt a little goofy joining at the new year, especially when the worker asked us, "So is this your New Year's resolution?" We're like, "Yeah, well, we've been talking about it forever and just now got in here." Whatever.
Anyway, I love it so far, but after a few visits, I'm thinking that my goals are a little different from most people's.

Number 1: Become one of the gym members that annoys the snot out of me, i.e. Miss "Look at me do the Elliptical BACKWARDS without falling off OR throwing up!" or Mr. "Dude, I can't keep the sweat off of my face. I've been 3 miles on this thing and I've still got to do an hour on the treadmill." (The sweat part is an actual quote. I almost made part of my strength training for that day kicking him off his bike and saying, "YOU'RE A STINKY BOY, THAT'S WHY!" Ahem. Sorry.)

Number 2: Be able to actually lift my legs out of the bike stirrups and over the machine when I'm done. I was quite, um, svelte yesterday as my legs plonked to the floor and I dragged my right leg over the contraption and hopped with my left to get away.

Number 3: Get my vienna sausage fingers back into my wedding rings. There has been one day since about 6 months before Brynn was born that I have been able to wear them. I miss looking married. The first time I ever met Erick's grandmother she said, "Well look at your fat fingers!" My now mother-in-law tried her best to stop her, but to no avail. "Look at them! They ARE!" Love you, MaMa. Know anyone who does Lipo on fingers?

I'll probably think of some more later, but I needed to write these down so I don't forget them.
I should write an inspirational book. It would be awesome.