I know that many of you out there believe in the law of attraction- and I may only hold on to my disbelief simply because of how much I disliked the art direction of the movie The Secret… ( I know, trivial, but so true for me!) But I often chalk coincidences up to chance and nothing more. I suppose one shouldn’t forget that given the time of year it is- and how fresh resolutions are in everyone’s minds, it shouldn’t be so shocking that everywhere I go on the Internet I find yet another article that urges me to commit to a specific plan.

I can’t help but notice just how many close friends are reclaiming this as “their” year. We are all at different stages of our lives- married, single, mothers, young, old, big, small… All women who are taking a renewed vow to seek our full potential… we’re talking real goals that require a great deal of hard work and many little decisions to make it all happen. I am comforted knowing I am not alone in making big changes- and admittedly driven by a competitive need to keep going, knowing that if I don’t, there may potentially be a living reminder in my circle of friends who has made it through to the other side… And I am not prepared to be the one left behind this time.

It amazes me that while I certainly began with a fairly good idea of where I was headed, as well as knowing what I want- that I didn’t take the time to set out more specific goals. I know this is partially to protect myself from the self-induced shame for not having followed through- but I believe it goes deeper than that… Unfortunately, I think it may fall into a self- sabotage category I often try to sweep under the rug. No specific goals equals no follow through.

It’s time to commit to some specific goals. No more wishy-washy “I just want to be a healthy weight”. That’s not what I want and I know it. Healthy weight, yes- but it had better be an ass kicking weight too. I want to skate as fast as the jammers on my team, and be physically able to jam more than once without having to sit out the next three jams. I am not wanting to be a jammer as of yet, but I do want to train like one. I want to do my hot pants justice. (I love that I totally went on a non- specific goal tangent almost as soon as I said it was time to get specific. I’m like a bird who is distracted by shiny things, c’mon, I’m female.)

I want to spend a summer in my backyard in the pool- and that means with everyone- not just my kids who can’t tell I don’t like what I look like in a swimsuit. Yep, this is a vanity thing, and that’s totally fine by me.

Vanity aside, the reality is that my doctor advised me to lose 40 pounds for the sake of my long term back health. Naturally, I took her advice and gained 10.

Having rid myself of 12 pounds FOR EVER in the past 2 weeks, that leaves me at 38 pounds to loose. Hot pants here we come.


Like a rock

Scale success.

I woke up so jazzed to weigh in and head to derby Saturday morning only to be dashed by abdominal pain that kept me in bed all morning. I slept a big chunk of the day away, and after I got over my anxiety about missing my best workout of the week (compounded with the fact that it was my cheat day)… I felt good.

Maybe it was the 14 hours of sleep, maybe it was the promise of a cheat- but I started seeing myself as so much more capable than one week ago. The domino effect kept my cheat day in check, has me considering a real fitness challenge, and living in the moment- not something I do easily.

It’s not all lollipops and rainbows- There’s still a voice in my head that nibbles the success away – the one that tells me it was just the first week and it’s all water weight or some other crap (It’s the same one that negates most of the compliments I’ve gotten in the past) but I feel I am more resilient. My immediate reactions are changing. I am beginning to feel worthy.

I am not deluded into believing that a certain weight or size is the key to my happiness. I am on a quest for strength. I want to feel and know that I am powerful beyond my identity as a wife and mother. I have denied myself the opportunity to grow strong out of a sense of duty to others. I have sought self worth through selfless acts that were based on my ego’s need for recognition… So I suppose they really weren’t so selfless after all. And here I am, years have passed and I continue to re- write the same page in my diary- until today. It will never be enough to rely on others for my self worth. It’s up to me.


I am not having any more kids.

The work I put into getting back to an ideal weight doesn’t have a “get out of jail free by claiming getting fat again was due to pregnancy” clause. This is (at the risk of sounding like a horrible Mom) so empowering to me. I love my kids, but that doesn’t mean I have to wear a fat ass like a badge of honor.

I felt pretty cheated by being at my ideal weight for the first time in my adult life for mere minutes before getting pregnant again. While I fought the good fight at first, my weight eventually creeped up way past the suggested 30-35 pounds and I had ten months to luxuriate in eating more than I should with a borderline acceptable excuse. Sure, I managed to lose some of it again, but never got back to that place- physically or mentally. And while I was pissed at being fat again it was more my inability to control myself that was upsetting. Losing weight is super hard. Gaining it is well- a piece of cake. (Or 40).

Years have passed, add another baby- and all told, with my three pregnancies I have gained a hundred plus pounds twice over, 80 plus pounds for the third bundle and well- suffice to say not lost it all… And here I am, struggling and only losing the same 20 pounds over and over again- never mind the other 30 that need to go.

With the end of my baby making days I almost feel as though it’s time for me to be reborn. I have this feeling of closure and resolve I haven’t had in many years. My body is finally mine again.

I feel some guilt pangs because I know other women mourn the end of baby days and here I am celebrating mine- but the fact that I may become pregnant again has been in the back of my mind, keeping me from putting in the effort from pure laziness. Knowing that I let myself gain so much every time isn’t exactly motivating. I feel the changes I make today are FINALLY changes that I am making for the rest of my life, not just until I get pregnant again.

And since I have yet to grace this blog with a single image- I leave you with a picture I am using as motivation-my legs. No freaky model I can never measure up to, even with my photoshop skills- but me. I am not and doubt I ever will be a long and lean type. However, I can make some bitchin’ muscles. I even left my muffin top in the picture because it’s not a muffin top- it’s a muscle too, I shit you not.

I know these legs are still under there somewhere...



Arnica gel you are my new BFF. Yes, I’m sore, and yes, I totally anticipated it. Well, if there was ever a motivator to not put crap down your gullet, it is being unable to easily walk around to get the food… Pain is a great, constant reminder…

And that will be the last of my complaining.

I’m actually feeling good to be past the first couple days of mind games that I often play with myself- those little justifications of deviating from my plan to stay on track- you know, the “One can’t hurt” mentality. Yeah, that’s what got me here. I am so easily tempted.

Brief pause while I pat myself on the back for sticking to my plan for 2 days. Very brief, I mean its only 2 days after all.

I am making a conscious effort to stay off my scale every morning too. I have a bad habit of living by what number it gives me. My Bodybugg program only gets you to weigh in on a weekly basis, I’m going to go by that- I know the siren song of the scale may get me every now and then, but if I can resist temptation for a few days at a time- I’m golden.

Ideally, I’d like to feel comfortable enough to reveal some of my stats, but until I have accepted them (Or maybe more to the point – gotten as far away from them as I can) I guess random insights are all you get. We’re talking 50 pounds here people.┬áIt’s hard admitting I have a long way to go.

I have a couple goals- basically get smaller and faster- but I haven’t really nailed down the specifics. I’m thankful I have derby to push me to improve. I just have to get over my ego and take baby steps. It makes me happy to think of a sneak attack and coming out of nowhere though…

And so, I’m starting small. 10 pounds. Land training 2 times a week specifically for derby in addition to on-skate practice. I am going to be so good at Suzy Hotrods it will blow your mind. My skip rope bearings are going to get so hot they may just explode. That is, of course once I stop walking like Frankenstein.

Tagged ,

88 keys

Did anyone else see that piano tied to my ass at bootcamp today? So sluggish, but I survived. I have a sense that I am gong to be super sore in a few hours. Serves me right.

I have a Lush peppermint bath bomb with my name written all over it. Thankfully, when I got home nobody else was here yet- I built a nice fire, boiled the kettle (neo citron take me away) and started a bath (baths take a multiphase approach since the hot water tank can’t fill it all at once I have to fill, wait, then fill again.) And now is the in-between where I impatiently keep trying the taps to see if the water has heated up again or not.

My bodybugg says I burned 1774 calories at bootcamp today- not too shabby, but I was pretty slack today. I am proud to say that when I started hurting I actually stopped so as to not hurt myself further. That cements the fact that I am turning a new leaf.

Today’s silver lining: having a nervous stomach about starting back at derby caused me to lose my guts beforehand. Yeah, gross- but if it’s the only weight I lost today, I’ll take it.





Here we go (again)

I’m on the verge of acting on some very well laid plans… So well, in fact I have been making them for about 2 years… I won’t even begin to pretend I have confidence, but here I am, restless and nervous about what may come. Like virtually every other woman I know I find myself unhappy with my looks, more specifically what I have done to my body. I fluctuate wildly from fit to fat and here I sit having had just gained back 20 pounds in 3 and a half months that I worked so hard to lose.

Well, a new derby season is but hours away (a boot camp I am SO poorly prepared for). I am anticipating some polite glances that will confirm my weight gain has not gone unnoticed, peppered with feeling shitty about letting myself go to the point I can’t do some skills I could just a few months ago.

Strangely enough I am still looking forward to it. I do feel as though this first day back is the motivation I need to get started (new year’s obviously didn’t do it). I’m coming across as a bit pessimistic, I know- but I am in essence saying goodbye to an old friend.

Boom Boom, you were rad. But it’s time to make way for a new girl.

I am not as brave as some people who photograph themselves in way-too-small bikinis and reveal their weight and measurements for the world to see while on a mission to attain some kind of accountability- it’s most likely due to my own fear of failure, but I will promise to be honest.

One last thing- I tend to go a little psycho during the first couple days that I eat healthy. I am so addicted to sugar that I get migraines and basically swear at people for no good reason. Let this be your warning.