Sprite's Keeper

HASAY: A New Month, A New Day, A New Way

HASAY: Warning, clicking this link may cause uncontrollable exercising. Please consult a doctor before clicking the link. That was the disclaimer.

July already? What the hell, June? Did we say something to piss you off?

So, Casey, the Holy HASAY'er, has decreed that HASAY postings will be reduced from every Monday to the first Monday of the month. This means my penchant for following rules to the letter will now be tested since the months like to sneak in before I can protest prepare for them.

I have been a regular at the gym for three weeks now and the instructors are even starting to recognize me. The Boot Camp drill sargeant even complimented me on my stepping (which I personally thought was lacking. When it comes to step anything, I usually take it slow so it doesn't take me down.) and then proceeded to get in my face, trying to screw up my concentration. He also demanded perfection on this exercise called side planks. Ever do side planks? You're supposed to lie on your side, raise your upper body up to lean on your arm and then bring the rest of your body up into a straight line or a plank. Guess what? It's almost physically impossible. And he wanted two minutes! A good three or four times! Yeah, I know. Crazy. I told him so too. (Muttering under your breath totally counts. As long as he's still in the room, it does.)

The Zumba class is beginning to get on my nerves for a couple of reasons. First of all, I am the only English speaker in the class. Everyone else is Spanish. Normally, this isn't a complaint for me since I need all the practice I can get to impress my in-laws, but when the instructions for the dance moves are being shouted en espanol, No, better! SLANG, I'm screwed. "Qierda!" "Recha!" Wha? I have to watch the instructor's feet closely to make sure I can keep up, but she's so busy playing up to her mirror image, I honestly thought the class was being Punked the first time I participated in the class. For her cool down, she played Beyonce's "To the Left" song and spent the entire song prancing like an MTV scout was considering her for Ms. Jay-Z's next world tour. I have to control the laugh reflex, which is right above Gag. Also, there is an older woman who also participates in every Monday session and even though I get there before she does and stake out my spot in the back of the room. she must take her place right beside me, no matter how empty the class is. Normally, I would be flattered and a little confused by this, but she has personal space issues in a class where we are constantly on the move. Every time I turn around, she's stealing the air I was going to use for my next breath. So, I started moving around throughout the class, going up one row, turning back. And it goes swimmingly for a few moves until I trip over a sneaker. "Oh, hi! You again!"
"Como?"
Did I mention I'm the only English speaker?

I'm enjoying the Spin class the most. The seat still tries to get fresh with me even though it knows I'm married, but I'm learning to mostly ignore it and focus my hatred instead on the instructor who doesn't seem to sweat no matter how many hills we approach. And perky? Honey, the rest of the class just shoved about a thousand calories out of their pores. Can you at least look a little winded?

Here's the good news. While the scale doesn't seem to acknowledge all my hard work (yet took the fiver I left for it without question), my clothes are fitting a little looser and I feel more toned all round.

STATS: John: Down 3. Up 1. Damn holiday weekends.
            Me: Even. Whatver, scale. My slacks are loose in the bum. Don't kill my buzz.

Next Monday's topic: No HASAY, what the hell am I going to write about?

HASAY: My Way Isn't Always the Best Way

HASAY: All the cool kids are doing it.

"Come on, Sprite. Let's try using the potty."

Another morning, another day of convincing Sprite the toilet is the best way to GO. (She doesn't believe me.) As soon as we walked into the classroom, I steered her to the toilet, foiled once again by one of her friends who had to show her a new puzzle or band-aid or moved doll. I lost her quickly and took a seat by the teacher who had just arrived.

We talked about the class, Sprite's development, the class bully (alleged) (although the teacher's responses tell me exactly what I need to hear and moved the bully's status from alleged to proven), and then landed on the topic of Sprite again, her weight specifically.

"I think Sprite is losing weight," I remarked. "She feels lighter, and when we were at the doctor's last week, she was about a pound less than before."

The teacher smiled. "You couldn't tell by the way she eats."

I could feel my brows furrow as I asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, she's a great eater here."

"Really? Lately, she just picks at her dinner."

"She's usually reaching for seconds at lunch."

I frowned. "You give her seconds?"

Her smile died a little. "Well, when they ask and they seem hungry, we'll give them some more."

I shook my head. "No seconds."

Our conversation ended there and I left knowing I had just given her an impression of me that she had never seen before. She knew I was the type of mom who wanted to know everything about what my kid did, but today I seemed to cross the threshold into Hovering Mom territory. I wouldn't say my tone was rude, but it was firm and definitely disapproving of their acquiescence in letting Sprite eat however much she wanted. I wanted to apologize for being abrupt, but the awkwardness was already too much and saving face wouldn't save the moment, so I just let it go.

John and I both have a history of weight issues and learning portion control and learning to lean toward the healthier options can only help Sprite in making the right choices in life. We work hard at not giving in to her every request for a cookie and giving her enough at meals that she doesn't over-eat, but doesn't leave the table hungry either. We push the veggies and fruit because we want her to reach for those first when she's looking for a snack. It's such a fine line and one I'm actually doing better at. I used to be the kind of mom who wouldn't let her kid eat anything processed and objected to candy and treats and fried foods because they would obviously open the door to "Pizza!" demands and "McDonald's!" I've come down from that ledge and just this weekend, Sprite had pizza for dinner on Saturday AND for lunch on Sunday (birthday party) and I was okay with it, mostly. I'm also okay (mostly) with the fact that she'll probably be eating the same way this weekend since we'll be out of town and at ANOTHER birthday party where cake and pizza will be prominent. (Although you shouldn't be surprised if I try to supplement her pizza slice with a cup of unsweetened applesauce that I just HAPPENED to have in the diaper bag..) Her weight is fine right now and the doctor says she's just a solid kid, but she's also very active and that plays a big role in her weight right now as well.  

So yes, I do think I was right in voicing my opinion on their lax attitude with her portion size. (I was also remembering one Parents Night Out where they gave her slice after slice of pizza for dinner and gave us the weekend from hell when dealing with the after-effects of her indulgence.) I just think I should have said it better. Nicer. Not so hover-y.

I think I should probably get that teacher a Starbucks card though. If only just for dealing with moms like me.

STATS:

John: Down 3.5 pounds! Woot!
Me: Even. What the hell, gym? John says I'm gaining muscle. (I think it's retribution for my kinda bitchy commentary to Sprite's otherwise VERY nice teacher.) (Seriously, Starbucks card? I'm thinking yes.)

HASAY: Looking for another way

HASAY: The only online weight club which will come to your home and monitor your calorie intake for you! So I've heard. And I think it costs like a thousand bucks for that service, and I'm only signed up for the free check-in plan so I'm going on hearsay alone. No, the club is not named Hearsay. It's named HASAY. Duh.

Oh, this plateau! She mocks me!

I joined a gym.

Please don't tell the Nord! I only worked out with him once this last week and he asked me what was wrong. I didn't know what to say, so I told him I wasn't feeling well, but I can only carry a cough so far before it hurts my throat..

Last week was a trial week since I wanted to focus on the classes which work on resistance training and such and felt I wouldn't be getting my money's worth to walk into a weight room only to stare at a line of treadmills when a perfectly good one was sitting still in my bedroom.

Monday, I tried Zumba. Now, I can dance. Don't expect me to break into a spontaneously choreographed routine when someone utters "Fosse", but I have rhythm. (And I did try once to spontaneously choreograph a routine when I was 18. The fact that I haven't done one since should tell you that things didn't end well.) So, Zumba, for those out of the loop, and the fact that I'm actually in the loop excites me to no end, is an hour long dance class which focuses on mostly latin and hip hop steps combined for cardio endurance. It's fun. If you like to dance. And if you CAN dance? Bonus! If you can't dance, just look for the one groupie wearing the "Zumba is my life!" t shirt and mentally slam her for the entire hour. You'll know which one she is. She knows the routine better than the instructor and has the time to throw in a hair toss during the really complex steps. Even the instructor looks to her for help sometimes. Easy to hate and easy to shoot ocular daggers at. Don't worry, she won't even look at you. She's too busy looking at her mirror image. And yes, every class has one. If you screw up a step, just blame her.

But anyway, the class went well. I workd up a sweat and had fun. I even thought I did well. Then the teacher came over and asked if I had ever taken a Zumba class before. Bolstered by the oncoming compliment, I replied that yes, I had taken a couple over the past few years, but nothing formally, then felt my smile disentegrate when she suggested I attend the beginners class so I could more easily adapt to the slower pace before I try her class again. Meh. I had fun. Next time I'll just stick to the back of the room. And maybe follow the groupie instead of the teacher.

Tuesday, I stayed home and ran on the Nord. The silence was palpable, but I filled in the dead air with TV noise. Sigh. I hope he understands why I'm doing this.

On Wednesday, I wandered into the Boot Camp class ready for an hour of high pressure aerobic activity thinking, I can go for 100 minutes on a treadmill. This guy is going to be impressed with my stamina. I think by the end of the hour, he was impressed that I wasn't crying. Loudly.

The guy kicked my ass! Upper body, lower body, thirty second rest, "No, I lied! 2 minute jumping jacks, GO!", squat thrusts, "Who said you could use your knees in push ups? I don't care if you're a GIRL!", and other exercises guaranteed to make you feel the burn well into the evening. And the next day. Maybe even the day after. I wouldn't know since Thursday brought an even more formidable opponent.

Spin class. I'd always wanted to try it, but never had the nerve. I should have known how hard the hour would be as soon as I straddled the seat. Who the hell designed those cycle seats anyway? I felt like I was sitting astride a chainlink fence. Whenever the instructor commanded the class to stand and everyone groaned, I breathed a sigh of relief, happy that I would be off the instrument of torture which was trying to get to third base with me. Oy. I did enjoy the class though and thought I would try for another go around on Saturday morning.

On Saturday morning, I marched back into the Spin class a little weary, my rear still remembering the harsh treatment from only two days prior. The seat obviously forgot because it treated me like fresh meat once more. Another student told me to give it a few more sessions and I won't even notice the seat anymore. Apparently, this class also toughens your bum, not just your legs. Well, two down. I'll believe it when I DON'T feel it.

STATS:
John: down 2. He's trying to get down 2.5% of his weight for a contest at his gym. Good luck, John! You're doing great! Win money!
Me: up 1. What the hell? John says I built muscle. I say I'm giving it a month to change my mind before I go running back to the Nord and begging forgiveness. Luckily, my fees aren't bad.
      

HASAY: Calling in the big guns..

HASAY: You really should know about HASAY by now, but in case you don't...

Thursday morning, I was standing outside Sprite's classroom window for a last wave when another mother came walking over with her son. As she started to pass, she stopped and addressed me. "I just wanted to say you look great. I've been wanting to tell you that for a while."

I looked over to her and smiled as I searched for a response. ("Huh?" "Are you talking to me?" "Do you need glasses?")

"You lost a lot of weight, right? I think you're doing great," she went on. (Uh, when? Last week or last year?)

I finally settled on a reply. "Thank you."

She moved on with her life while I stood stuck on that moment. I know we've crossed paths before at the school. It's not that big a place. While her son and Sprite are a few years apart, our timing at Drop Off is usually the same. She's seen me at my biggest when I first started bringing a 3 month old Sprite-ling in and I'm positive she should have noticed that the weight loss I was speeding through came to a standstill around the beginning of fall and hasn't gone anywhere since. (Of course she would have noticed. I am that important, right? That important that people would take the time out of their own lives to look over and say, "Hey, did Jen drop another half a pound? Damn!" My narcissism has no limits, it seems.)

This journey through HASAY has been an experience, a great one for the people involved in it, although I should be slapped on my keyboard for not surfing the mailing list like I'm supposed to. (What can I say? Monday's are nuts and I'm almost certifiable by the time I get home.) However, I can't ignore the disappointment I feel in the nonexistent weight loss I thought I would see.

I can't blame it on HASAY since I've been sticking to the same schedule and diet since January, 2008. People who stay on the status quo are known to plateau after a certain point and I am no different. I keep running on the treadmill, but after hearing the 100 minute sessions were actually doing nothing for me, I brought the time down to 40 minutes and while I haven't gained due to the less strenuous activity, I haven't lost either. Sigh.

I tried on bathing suits on Friday since we, I mean Sprite, had swimming lessons on Saturday. (One good point to this embarrasment was that my old swimsuits are too large and I would risk Northern Exposure if I jumped into the pool. But at least I would have floaties..) John could hear the criticism in my voice as I modeled the contenders for him in the family dressing room. (Dude, Target offers it for families in situations just like this. Sometimes you need a spouse to justify an item of clothing before you pull out the charge card. They're practically making money off of their large dressing rooms. I would have walked out without anything if John wasn't there.)

"Ugh, look at this cellulite. John, close your eyes, please."

"Jen, how am I supposed to tell you what I think when my eyes are closed?"

One of the reasons I married him was for his smarts. Damn it.

"I just don't understand why nothing's happening. I haven't gained any weight, but I look in the mirror and see more. Why?"

"I keep telling you. You need to change it up."

"Yeah, but you already have a gym membership. We can't afford another."

"We'll find a way. You just need to change it up. The treadmill alone isn't going to give you the results you want."

He's right, he's right, I know he's right.

Damn it.

The STATS:

John: Even. He hasn't been able to do much since he got back, but the BBQ he indulged in still has not made its presence known, so yay for him.
Me: Even. (What? This post is about how disappointed I am in my lack of loss. Did you think I would surprise you with a drop? Uh, RIGHT.)

HASAY: There's a child in the way of my diet..

HASAY: You'll find smarter people than me over there.

Reason # 894758659 to stay married to John: single parenthood is hazardous to one's diet. Especially when the parenthood concerns a child under the comprehending age of "Don't touch that!".

While John dealt with the daunting task of deciding which restaurant he would eat out at for dinner and if he would exercise in the morning or in the evening, I dealt with getting the child out the door in the morning and getting the child into bed at night.

My diet remained the same. It seems that no matter what obstacles you throw at me, as long as you do it on a weekday, I can deflect any temptation. (This does not count the weekend or my cheat day. On those days, if there is something I want in your hand, you better count your fingers after I'm done.)

My exercise is what suffered. Whenever I heard the excuses from other people who claim there is no time for exercise in the evenings or the kid never leaves them alone so they can exercise, I would think, Why don't they exercise in the morning? Why don't they wait until the kid is asleep or hand the kid off to the other parent so they can make the effort to get or stay healthy?

I am sorry. I am very sorry. I am also very stupid sometimes.

Getting out the door in the mornings was not so bad. While I did have to add twenty minutes to our routine, subtracting twenty minutes from my sleep, we were able to arrive at school and work on time. It was the evening routine that suffered.

With John gone, and then Mom having to split, Sprite knew it was just me standing in the way of her chaotic kingdom. So, my plan of putting her to bed at 8, which is typically her bedtime, fell short when she pulled every request out of the toddler's handbook. "Read a book?" "Go pee pee on the pink potty?" "I need a drink." "Not water, juice." "Ju-hu-huice!" "Read a book?" "Go see Daddy on the computer?" "Read a book?" (In fact, recycle the "read a book" request five more times.) We made it to her room every night by 8 PM, and I didn't get to my room until 10 PM. Every single night. Time to tread? I felt closer to dead. I immediately headed to the showers, calling my day quits.

After Tuesday's failed attempt to see the Nord, I set the alarm an hour earlier that night so I could make up some time on Wednesday morning. And promptly slapped that intention out of my head when I slapped the snooze for daring to interrupt my REM before I absolutely had to get up.

While I did get some exercise in on Friday and Saturday with getting Sprite to the park both days and promptly chased after her for most of the time, and of course, the weight resistance exercises of lifting her up over and over, the rest of my week's endurance relied mostly on my vow to take the stairs up to my office instead of the elevator so I could claim SOMETHING for success.

How easy it was to have someone to hand the kid off to! Our set up was perfection. He would get in a walk on the treadmill after dinner and then handle Sprite's bedtime while I busted my move. With him (temporarily) out of the picture, my move was busted. Trying to alter the schedule to fit in a workout became impossible when the important things like dinner and keeping Sprite away from the breakables took precedence.

My assvice to other dieters dealing with toddlers? Don't listen to me. Ever. (Which technically would be listening to me. Meh. Semantics.)

STATS:

John: Even. He was able to get in his exercise every morning and even sometimes in the evenings while in Texas, but he also owned up to his culinary transgressions at some Italian restaurants and BBQ joints. (By the way, he managed to say the word barbeque at least ten times on Sunday, even once in a conversation about sleep. I don't remember what prompted the mention, and neither does he. I think he just snuck it in to make sure I was paying attention.)

Me: Up 1. No exercise and a cheat day makes Jenny a bad dieter.

HASAY: While John's Away, The Diet's Okay (So far..)

HASAY: The only club that can keep you in line even when you're on the road! Can Weight Watchers meetings nag you through the blogosphere? I thought not..

So, John is in Texas this entire week learning something Geeky. While we miss him already, we know he's fine. In fact, what worries him most is the possible lack of healthy food options. Seriously! I'm not just tying his trip in with HASAY to get a post out of it! (Okay, maybe a little bit, but I miss him! My judgment is skewed right now!)

(Memo to self: This may be a good week to take a blogcation since I can't seem to write anything logicalistic  logicallally coherent... Nah. Might as well bitch  moan  scream vent my frustrations.)

Sure, when you're on vacation, you can make special arrangements to go to restaurants where there will be the better options like a salad or grilled chicken breast with the steamed veggies, but what about when you're out of town on business and the only options around you are the "express" restaurants and fast food places that rely on people like you who will most likely not be staying longer than 10 minutes to chew your food? When time is of the essence? When you're driving around a strange town in a strange rental which smells somehow of overripe cantaloupe?

Pop quiz, hot shot. You have thirty minutes for lunch. Your options are a mall nearby, a Chik-Filet, and a Burger King which really won't allow you to have it your way. They just say that to get you in the door. What do you do?

This is what John is up against this week while in a small offshoot town near Dallas. Last night, after he arrived, he did a quick tour through the city and didn't find much near the training center. He agreed that he would find a grocery store to at least get himself some snacks for the hotel and those 3 PM "take a bite or take a hostage" sugar lows, but after an exhausting trip, he sounded ready for bed when I spoke to him last night.

The last time I was out of town on business, I was on a diet and scrutinized the restaurants within 5 miles of my hotel. I actually went on line, checked out the menu, ordered my meal exactly as I wanted it, and picked it up without stopping to peruse the dessert display or the appetizer specials. While this kept me in line, it also killed any future cravings for A Chili's grilled chicken salad since I played it safe almost every day I was there and memorized their phone number for a quick stop on my way back to the hotel. (I still haven't been back to Chili's since then, over 3 years ago.)

So, John is going to try to be as good as possible for the duration of this week, especially considering he had such a great weigh in last week. He's been watching his food and increasing his cardio sessions by jumping on the treadmill every night before me. He has checked out the hotel amenities and the gym looks promising. (Although, I have seen the pictures of what looked to be a large gym on hotel sites before and was very disappointed when I walked in to a room with one treadmill, one weight machine, and two out of order signs placed on each one. Major let down.)

If you have any tips for John, leave them here! Whether it be an idea for a quick breakfast, a low fat, high protein snack, or just a quick guilt trip for having the audacity to leave his wife and child for 6 days, he'll love to read it! (Except the guilt trip part. Speaking of, I may have already taken care of the guilt part..)

Stats:

John: Down 6. That's right! SIX! In one WEEK! (Told you it was good!)
Me: Even. Meh. I'll just take one of John's. He'll never notice it missing.

Revised Stats:

John: Down  6 5.
Me: Down 1. Woo hoo!

HASAY on Holiday

Good morning, America!

I emailed Casey last night, both of us aware that the Internet would be filled with more movie listings finders and people looking for directions to parties and parks, and less blog surfers, but decided to move forward with a HASAY post anyway. Want to know what it's about? How long have you been reading this blog anyway? Okay then, click here and find out why I devote my Mondays to Casey and her Crusades.

But I will make it short today! I know everyone out there will be celebrating Memorial Day, some for the right reasons, some for other reasons like an excuse not to set the alarm on Monday for once.

This last week was supposed to be pretty tame. Supposed to. Unfortunately, an unexpected ER trip (That story is coming on Wednesday, thanks for the kind words here and on Facebook, it really wasn't that bad, and Sprite had to hit the first ER visit milestone at SOME point, right?) curtailed the exciting plans of treadmill time and offered generous helpings of quick bites here and there, not minding exactly what the food was for once, and my cheat day, normally relegated to Saturdays and the occasional Sunday morning breakfasts, (Come on. When faced with a menu of cinnamon swirl french toast versus egg white omelets, wheat toast and tomato instead of hash browns, what will you do? Some more treadmill time, of course. Pass the syrup.) turned into a cheat holiday weekend.

With my parents in town as well, and life throwing its usual twists and turns, I found only one day to work out and ended up with a moderate headache for my troubles.

This morning, I faced the mirror and thought I looked thicker. Of course, at certain times of the month, EVERYONE seems thicker to me. Normally thin people that I would see and admire for having a beautiful sillhouette suddenly seem to take on a slight bulge in the midsection or thighs, as if the camera suddenly added ten pounds. It seems when I retain water, either my eyesight does as well, or everyone else does. I've always noticed this, but thought it was my own strange way to cope with the onslaught of cravings and iron deficiencies. Typically, when my body returns to normal, so does my view of my surroundings.

Anyway, as soon as I was done critiquing my reflection, I stepped on the scale.

Dead even. How is that? Is it in my head? Sometimes I confuse myself. (I know I must be confusing you..)

John has reported another pound loss and I'm happy for him. He actually took the week off from the gym and used his mornings instead to clean the house before heading to work. I'm happy for that too.

Today, John's parents will be joining us for some family time during this holiday and I hope to make the most of it, savoring one more day of freedom with Sprite before she returns to daycare and I return to work.

And if a munchkin happens to find its way into my mouth today, I won't fret about it so much. I'll just blame it on the water weight.

HASAY: My post is like a toddler, cute, but hard to explain.

HASAY: Fun stuff about weight loss, although I can't promise it won't rhyme. I can make a guess-timate, give you a 50/50 probability of no rhyming, but if you're looking for confident wagering, you won't find it here.

My eyes flick over your form and stare with invitation,

Knowing that within minutes, you'll want my full participation.

The kid's in bed, the tv's on to tamper down our noise,

Since when I'm with you, I forget myself and tend to lose my poise.

Finally, it's time for you and me, where no one else can interfere,

Your promise to put me through my paces is exactly what keeps me here.

We start off slowly, meshing well, a connection I can't forget,

(In fact, sometimes, just thinking of you, I break into a sweat.)

My heartbeat raises dramatically, pushing me out of my comfort zone,

And throughout it all, you're still there, assuring me I'm not alone.

You demand nothing less than my full attention, until my legs are weak,

But I always rise to the occasion, your approval is what I seek.

And when it's over, I float down in a wave of satisfaction,

And look forward to tomorrow night with you, my man of action.

You've become the ideal partner that I'd ever hoped I'd find,

And the best part about it all? My husband doesn't mind.

It's strange how you've affected me, in my heart, you've struck a chord,

I will run through life with you endlessly, my love, my heart, my Nord.

(A poem about a treadmill? You probably want your money back now, dontcha?)

(Also, did you know this post about the Nord was written while I sat in bed right next to it? When I could have been running? I think that counts for a bit of irony, don't you?)

STATS:

John: Don't know. He was out of town this weekend and hasn't been able to weigh in.
Me: Down 1. Maybe after the Nord reads this poem, he'll get me down another five before BlogHer..

HASAY: In sickness and in health..

A HASAY a day keeps the doctor away. The ole' apple myth has been debunked. So Casey says..

I hate being sick. It saps the strength both physically and mentally and just makes for a generally sucky day. Or week. In my case, it's been a week.

You all know about my little phlegm fling last week, right? Yeah, I'm still a little red in the cheeks over that. Well, with the doctor's visit came a prescription for a Z pack, a coupon for Musinex D, and the command to avoid strenuous activity until the antibiotic round was finished.

No treadmill.

No 30 Day Shred.

Major suckage.

I am a person of habit. I don't half-ass anything, so John's suggestion of an easy 30 minute "mosey" (anything under a 3 mph setting is a mosey in my book) just wouldn't cut it for me. So, I took the free pass, turned the Nord off, and hid my running shoes so as not to add to the guilt factor.

Unfortunately, hiding my sneakers didn't take away from the guilt factor either. I could FEEL my legs getting heavier every time I sidestepped the treadmill to relax on my bed and catch up on some not-so-great tv. Once in a while, I would lookover and see the silent Nord, just collecting dust, which probably wasn't helping my cough either.

I was still good to the diet for the course of the week, but Mother's Day brought my family over to my home along with my sister's baked goods. (Uh, Lee? Yummy for the tummy, but it slips onto the hips. You are now advised, or warned, yeah, warned is good, that you must ask permission before you bring any sweet treat over. That's right, sister of mine. John and I have agreed that your brownie bites are amazing, but we are hereby banning your bakery from our home. You are welcome. Your cake pans are not.) (Unless it sounds too good to pass up. Then, we'll talk,.)

Luckily though, for the majority of the week, the antibiotics gave me an upset stomach so eating just wasn't as much fun as it normally is. (Considering I'm dieting right now, eating has always been a hoot.) Also, the sinus infection itself took all the taste out of everything, so I was going on autopilot (and texture) for the most part.

As of now, the antibiotics are done, I can breathe (and taste!) again, and I've officially given myself the okay to get back on the Nord tomorrow and start up the exercise portion of my evenings once more.

STATS:

John: Down one. (Another loss! He's really making me look bad while making himself look good.)
Me: Up two. (So, it turns out that even though I couldn't taste and didn't feel like eating half the time, I still gained.) (But, I am blaming one of the pounds on my sister. Or her oven. At least, the oven can take the heat..) (What, the sinus infection took my humor too? Bah!)

HASAY: I am beautiful, no matter what I say.

HASAY: These people say "bless you" when you sneeze, they're THAT nice.

Today, I'm going to hit on two forums, my usual Monday favorite HASAY post and a newer forum called Beautiful Like Me hosted by Wicked Step Mom over at Life and Times of A Wicked Step Mom (which she so isn't. I don't think there is a wicked bone in her body. Every time I read one of her posts, I think she is one of the nicest people in the blogosphere. But she's never released her name. Which is a little wicked, I guess. So her name should be Life and Times of a Not so wicked she'd scare small children but wicked in a omitting kind of way Step Mom, but then that title would be way too long and she'd probably get the strangest Google hits, so leaving her moniker the way it is would probably be best.).

I've been watching WSM's project take form and wanted to contribute, so as sickness and my desire of health (in the purest form of health possible, you know, being able to breathe out of at least ONE nostril..) have kept me from exercising this week, I have nothing new to offer on the weight loss front. (Plus, I'm still waiting on Casey to let me know she's made it back alive from her PA trip.) (Still dealing with the air travel butterflies.)

The topic due today is "What features/qualities would we like today’s children to see as beautiful?"

I have hips. In fact, I believe they're called "child bearing hips" as my grandmother liked to put it. (And she had seven kids. I guess that would be an expert opinion.) Hell, if Sprite didn't have a big head AND hadn't gone breech, I'm sure birthing her would have been like throwing a pencil down a hallway. Yes, I have hips.

I've never considered these hips to be beautiful. When I was in high school, I still had no chest to speak of, but my hips had already begun to widen and take on that vuloptuous tone certain guys found appealing. I would get some stares, but I never saw these stares as flattering. I always thought I was being critiqued for my hips being too wide.

I would get dressed for gym next to these skinnier girls whose pelvic bones jutted out farther then their actual physique and be jealous of them. In my mind, the comparison was a no brainer. I always lost the vote, even though I was the one voting.

As I grew older, I dealt with the weight loss issues that plagues so many people out there, and my hips were always a priority on what I would prefer to trim down.

I still focus on my hips as being too big for my liking, but I've also grown used to John's compliments. He LIKES my hips. He likes the curves I have. He's seen me at my heaviest and loved me then. He sees me after losing all the pregnancy weight and loves me now. This has helped quiet those inner voices of ridicule over the years, a little at least, especially after running into some of the girls I went to high school with and realized it just took them a few more years to catch up to the rest of us who grew into our bodies.

Watching Sprite slim down out of her baby weight, I can't help but hope she doesn't have the same body image issues that I did. Her hips are exactly what a toddler's should be, nothing to them. I'm pretty sure this will change since she has sturdy legs, muscular legs like mine. These legs will most likely become shapely far before she's ready to embrace curves emotionally, and her hips will curve much like mine did, but I will use my past mistakes and lessons learned to remind her of where beauty lies. I will remind her that even if her hips don't match the cheerleader whose locker is near her own, she has qualities of her own that are just as beautiful.

Plus, she'll be snarky. I'm almost positive of it. I find that beautiful too..

STATS:

John: Down three! Damn! He was so proud of himself this week and he's being so good!
Me: Even. I was sick. I still am sick. Achoo! See?

Bless me.