Arrrgh

Arrrgh. That's how I feel because my treadmill STILL is not fixed! Boo! I have not had a workout in a week because of this. Yes, I have workout videos but they do not motivate me or satisfy my need to sweat like my treadmill. I have a long and deep friendship with my treadmill. I don't think of it as a "dreadmill" because it offers me it's soothing hum of stress relief and weight loss whenever I want it. I never have to worry about the weather, my clothing, or the time of day. Maybe I don't mind the treadmill's monotony because I'm not training for a race and I've been a runner for a LONG time (regardless of the pounds I've put on and my not-so-steady running/walking schedule). I don't get bored because once my body gets past the initial "settling in" part of the run, my mind is free to go all stream of consciousness and sort through whatever needs to be sorted. Without talking to a single person or settling on a specific plan of action, this streaming is ridiculously helpful in relaxing me. I usually listen to music but I'll be honest, sometimes I get through half my playlist before I realize the music's on. So I've backed my hubs into the proverbial corner and threatened the withholding of sex if my buddy's not fixed PRONTO. I predict it will be fixed tomorrow. ;-p

So Tired

Today I woke up exhausted. I slept long enough. It wasn't solid sleep because I woke up every few hours, but that's pretty standard for me and when I wake up it's usually just to roll over and I go right back to sleep. I love sleep. I love TO sleep. I am one of those people who could spend a rainy day sleeping and not feel a bit guilty about it. But I digress. I woke up exhausted and not in the mood to get up and get going AT ALL. I don't have a work out planned for today or tomorrow because I have to work so that's at least one thing I don't have to get motivated for. I know when I get going I will actually have more energy but on days like today it's really hard. Does anybody else have this problem?

Strive for...Something

So I have this pet peeve with well meaning people who, after they find out I'm on a mission to get healthy, ask me how much weight I want to lose and then balk when I tell them. Well, YOU asked. Sometimes it's followed up with, "I'm sure you can do it." More often than not I get, "Don't you think that's a bit much to lose?" or "I wouldn't set myself up for failure like that." Uh...thanks. Wasn't planning on it. I know they don't realize what they're doing, but I want to smack them. My goal weight is 125lbs. I currently weigh 300lbs. My starting weight was 312. I'm 5'5in tall and I actually have a small frame (no getting away with saying I'm 'big boned' because at 312 I still only wore a size 7 ring and a size 8 shoe) so according to the insurance charts, 125 is my "perfect" weight. That being said, I am NOT hung up on the number. I'm a nurse for goodness sakes. I know all about body composition and fat distribution, and let's not forget that I'm going to have some excess skin when it's all said and done. I say 125 because it gives me a nice, concrete goal to work towards. I will most likely settle at around 135-140 because I like having muscles and when I was a size 10 last, I weighed 175lbs. I'm not going to feel like a failure if the scale never says 125 while I'm on it. There are people who can make goals like, "I just want to feel better" or "I want to be comfortable in my body" and that's enough for them. I have those goals along with "I want to wear a size 4 jeans" and "I want to wear size small Koi scrubs" because I am someone who NEEDS concrete goals. When I ran cross country I had days when the coach would say to us, "Go run until you think you've run far enough and then come back." Those days sucked for me. I was never able to relax and focus on the run because I was constantly worrying if I'd run far enough. Tell me to go run five miles and do four splits, and I'm happy. Tell me to lose enough weight to make me happy and I'll fail. Tell me to shoot for losing 175lbs and if I get close I'll be satisfied. I know it's a little OCD and Type A (which I'm not, really), but it works for me. I never make fun of other peoples goals or assume they will fail because they aren't concrete or they're terribly different from mine, because as long as they work for that individual they're good goals.

A No Good Very Bad Day

Really!?! That's what I've been wanting to scream at the top of my lungs ALL DAY. For starters I had to be up at the ball crack of dawn to take my dad to the airport so he could fly back to California (where I SHOULD live because that's where the rest of my family has migrated to), and because they had a two hour delay, I had to take both my boys with me (I had already dropped my husband off at work). The airport is a forty-five minute drive from my house and I was two thirds of the way home when I started hearing a loud grinding sound coming from my car. Not one to trifle with strange car sounds, I pulled over immediately and found that my tire was blown out. No, not just flat, there was a huge gaping hole the size of a half dollar in the OUTER layer of the tire. Fix-a-flat was SO NOT going to help this one. I called my husband and told him to which I get the response, "Well what are you going to do?" *blink, blink* "Uh...I just called you. THAT's what I'm going to do." Now I've never been the damsel in distress type. I was raised in a military household by a man who STILL can't talk about what he did while he was in the Army because those missions are still classified, and well, he didn't raise some cry-baby little pansy who can't figure out how to use a jack and a tire iron. I know how to change a tire and I've done it multiple times. The problem was that my husband had removed the jack and tire iron from the boot to make room for groceries and he'd forgotten to put them back. After reminding him of this fact (as sweetly as I was able to manage at that moment) he informed me that I'd have to "hang tight" because he wasn't able to get away from work for "a bit." Well alright then. I didn't really have much choice now did I? Had we been in California I could have just called my mom or my brother and one of them would have been able to come and help, but since I'm still stuck in Ohio I was screwed. All my former close friends disappeared during the time I was working two and sometimes three jobs while going to school full-time trying to get my degree. My husbands family? Busy. Although his youngest sister was willing to call around and see if she could borrow someones car to make the two hour (one way) trek up to help. He told her thanks, but we'd make do otherwise. So there I was, sitting on the side of a back country road, with a blown out tire, two very bored and fidgety boys, and now I had to pee. Since I knew it was going to be awhile I packed up the boys, locked up the car, and began to hoof it to the nearest place with a bathroom. We made it to a gas station with a minimum amount of complaining from the boys (really, I'm the overweight, out of shape one, and they play soccer and they're the ones complaining about a forty-five minute walk? unreal) and thank God, it had a public restroom. After that we walked a bit farther and found a Burger King. By this time I had heard from my husband that he wasn't even close to being able to leave so I bought the boys some lunch and myself a soda and we waited. And waited. And waited some more, until finally my darling arrived and we were rescued. At least, somewhat.  One hour and two hundred dollars (OMG! REALLY!?! ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?!?) later we had a new tire mounted and we arrived safely back home. I was very strong through the whole thing and avoided the temptation to eat poorly but when we got home I did what any normal person would do...I locked myself in my room, screamed into my pillow for a bit, and then cried a little. Then I logged on to World of Warcraft and took out some frustration on the game. I would have gotten on the treadmill and walked, but my husband needs to tighten the belt because it was sticking a bit the last time I was on it. As a result of today, we have decided as a family that we will be pushing the move to California a little faster than originally planned because I have had ENOUGH of this shit. Thanks for letting me vent internet friends. I hope this hasn't turned you off from my blog. I promise I'm all better now.

I'll Never Weigh 589lbs

I'll be honest...I've been in a slump lately. I get that way from time to time and when I do my general attitude is, "Screw it." Then Sunday night the slump went away and I was all set to set my mind back to working out and eating right. I packed my lunch, went to work, and three hours later I was ready to scream and head for the vending machine. Thankfully I got a call from the ER that I was getting an admission so the vending machine had to wait. When my patient got up to the floor I was glad I'd waited. My patient weighed 589lb (267kg) and had every complication that you can possibly have (almost) from obesity. It took six people, including me, to transfer the patient from the ER gurney to the bed and then it took me another hour to get the patient settled and medicated (including the anti-fungal powder I had to apply to each of the patient's skin folds because they were all red and irritated due to the yeast infections in each one). After all that I had to call a special company and order a different bed because the patient didn't fit into the largest bariatric bed that the hospital had. It was two hours before the bed was delivered and then another six person move. The whole time I was thinking, "Thank you God for showing me yet another reason I just HAVE to stay the course." I know it's a far stretch, and I would think I would never let it get that far, but that could be me if I don't take care of it now. So I stayed on track. Two hours later another severely obese patient stopped breathing and I was running around grabbing stuff, throwing stuff out of their room to allow for all the people and trying to get my compressions on their chest deep enough to actually pump their heart, which is really difficult on a five hundred pound person. They stopped breathing because they threw a clot that went to their lungs. They had clots because they were so big that they didn't move around enough. It was a giant flashing sign, "Hey! You need to make sure you think about THIS when you're tempted!"  I went home absolutely exhausted but with a renewed sense of determination and motivation. Last night was trick or treat in my town and my husband, dad, and I took the boys around for an hour and forty minutes. I didn't eat a single piece of candy. =)

Sometimes Impalement Really Is the Answer

So I've mentioned in a previous post that my husband is a chef. This is good and bad. The good thing is that when I print off a fabulous new recipe to try, he whips it up without batting an eye and it turns out perfectly. He's also quick to whip me up an omelet or other healthy low-carb something or other if he hears the I'm-about-to-cheat phrase of, "I'm starving." He also watches me like a hawk when it comes to eating regularly. One of the benefits of doing a healthy low-carb diet is that I'm not hungry very often and when I'm hungry enough to say, "I'm starving" it's usually been several hours since my last meal (this happens most often after a long night of work). It's not unusual for him to ask me when I ate last, several times a day. This is all wonderful, but marriage to a chef has some serious drawbacks. The obvious is that he's a chef and has only made one dish, in thirteen years, that I didn't like. He's very creative too and often will come home with a take out box of one of his "inventions" and say, "You've got to taste this!" I hate to hurt his feelings but lately I've been having to say, "No honey. Not even one bite." We've talked about it a bit and I pretty much told him that while I adore his cooking, it's not healthy for me. At least not his usual cooking. So he's promised not to bring anything too tempting home. Which brings me to a really important point. When you're in a relationship and trying to lose weight and get healthy, it is IMPERATIVE that your partner be supportive. Without that support you will most certainly feel like your journey is that much longer, lonelier, and more difficult. I feel very blessed that my husband was so open to helping me because I know others who have faced loads of resistance from their partners.  Usually this resistance is fear of change on the part of the partner, but in some cases it's just that the partner is an ass. I have, however, devised an almost foolproof was to tell the difference. If it's a case of fear of change, as you become more fabulous and healthy, the fear of change will usually become pride in your accomplishments. If it's a case of being an ass, as you become more fabulous and healthy, the desire to impale them on the nearest pointy object will increase proportionally.

I'm Not Gone

Been awhile huh? Lol. Sorry, but it's been busy for me and finding the time to blog has had to be worked into the schedule along with the rest of my crazy life. My Anniversary weekend was SO AWESOME. We had such a blast at the Creation Museum. Then we got back and I had to work the next two days. On a quiet night at work I can find time to blog but Monday and Tuesday were anything but quiet. Those days are always big surgery days and as you can imagine, post-op patients are very needy. I have been humming along though. The weather here has been rainy and cold but I love the fall weather and the cold gives me an excuse to wear my new Creation Museum hoodie. I have done really well with packing my lunch...until tonight! I still need to work on my water intake. It's not a matter of a lack of good water, the water/ice machines dispenses purified water, it's just a matter of breaking my addiction to soda. I have a serious addiction to diet soda.  I don't even think it's the caffeine. I think I'm addicted to the chemicals in the soda. I can stop drinking caffeine and aside from a mild headache have no problems.If I try to give up the diet soda though...I'm a raging beast. This alone is enough to tell me that I absolutely must get rid of the soda, but it's going to be tricky. I have to try a step down method. I'm replacing the diet soda with water a little bit at a time. I'm hoping to be off it completely in a year. On a lovely lighter note (pun intended), I went to the uniform store to buy new uniform pants and the cashier made me feel so great. I bought two pair of pants and when I went to checkout, she told me I'd pick up the wrong size. I told her that I usually bought my pants a size or two big because I liked them loose and comfy. She said, "A size or two is one thing but these are WAY too big for you." It made me smile because they were only two sizes bigger than my starting pant size. Yay me!!