Progress Update

Hey blog fans!

I realized this morning that it's been some time since I measured my weight-loss (or, more accurately, inch-loss) progress. Two months, actually. So I dusted off the ol' measuring tape and got to it.

Here are my results since beginning this wellness journey back in November:
Chest (or, "the girls", as some folks would call them): 1 inch lost
Rib cage: 2 inches lost
Waist: 4 1/2 inches lost
Tummy (what I affectionately refer to as my "overhang"): 4 inches lost
Hips: 3 inches lost
Thighs (each thigh): 2 inches lost

For a grand total of ... drum roll, please ... 16 1/2 inches lost since November! Yay, me! :)

This started, as you may recall, by walking on the treadmill. I believe I started slowly, at maybe 15 or 20 minutes, and worked my way up to 30 minute walks, 5 days per week. In June, I enrolled at my son's Taekwondo school, and the treadmill, I'm ashamed to say, has sat idle ever since. This is because a) beginning Taekwondo took a lot out of me physically, so I decided to take it easy on the days between training sessions, and b) the kiddies were home for the summer holidays, which makes "me time" hard to come by (unless I wanted to wake up at 5:00AM ... ummm ... no).

Well, the rugrats are back in school now (Trouble only goes on alternate days, being in Kindergarten this year). So my mornings, once the bus turns that corner and before I have to work at my paying job, are once again my own. I intend to reacquiaint myself with the treadmill once the kids and I are in some semblance of a routine - i.e. putting Trouble on the bus is no longer an aerobic routine on its own. Boy, who'd a thought one 40lb kid could put up such a struggle? I mean, I know that some kids don't handle the transition from home to school very well, but I've had to wrestle Trouble into the school yard, onto the bus, into his clothes in the morning... The way this kid bolts when that bus comes to pick him up, I think we'll be signing him up for track really soon.

Anyhow, so the treadmill is going to be revisited at some point in the next few weeks. As for my diet, I'm still trying to drink more water than soft drinks, eat more fruit and veggies on a daily basis (lemon pie counts as a fruit, right?), and limit my chip intake to the single-serving bags. Yeah, I've broken that rule a couple of times. Kind of hard to have movie night with one tiny bag of chips to call your own while the rest of the family is chowing down on M&Ms and Fritos by the bucket.

Taekwondo is going very well. My short-term goal was to make it through class without uttering the words "Please, God, make it stop!". I'm pretty much there most nights. Except for when the instructors come back from some sort of seminar or are preparing for a tournament. Then they seem to become even more excited about training than they usually are, and they get creative with the styles of push-ups and crunches and kicking combos they make you perform by the hundreds. It's all good, though. No pain, no gain, right? Although, sometimes I prefer the saying, "No pain ... woo hoo!"

My biggest hurdle right now (other than not being able to perform the more acrobatic kicks because I'm being weighed down by my age and my back-side)is that I seem to have a mental block when it comes to sparring. We're wearing full padding, so I techincally shouldn't have an issue kicking the bejesus out of my opponent, but I do. I can't kick a person with the same force as I kick a target or a heavy bag. Kind of makes for a one-sided fight, with me standing there getting my butt handed to me on a platter. But, like with any martial art, it's more about the journey than anything else, and this is just part of my personal journey. Here's hoping I turn a corner soon, though. My kids are beginning to think my skin tone is naturally purple and green.

Time Flies

Holy Moley! Has it really been 2 months since the last time I posted?! Geez, time sure does fly when you're ... ummm ... what's the phrase I'm looking for here? Having fun? Nope, that's not it. Broke? Exhausted? That's getting a little warmer.

Anyhoo, here I am, three months into the whole Taekwondo journey. Yes, I passed my first belt test. I actually double-tested, which means I skipped over the yellow-stripe and went straight to a yellow belt. I've since tested for my green stripe, and I find out tonight whether or not I passed. I honestly have no idea whether or not I did, because the whole testing experience is a blur to me. I was so nervous through the whole thing that I've managed to block out the memory completely. Not a very effective training technique, to go through the whole experience in a terrified trance. At this rate, I'll never make Ninja Queen.

You can't blame me, though. I had a large audience and fan club in attendance the night of testing. My brother and his family had come to town for a visit. Since he and his children are Karatekas, they thought it would be interesting to witness a TKD testing event. My sister and husband also came. My husband, the man who is supposed to love me unconditionally, brought our video camera. It was supposedly to take video of our son, who was also undergoing testing that night. He completely ignored the daggers shooting out of my eyes and took video of my testing, as well.

So how can I have video of the event and still not be able to remember how I did, you ask?

Because about three seconds into the video, my husband has to wrestle the camera out of my hands as I am overcome by the urge to hurl said video camera through the nearest fifteen story window.

Why, oh why, do martial artists wear WHITE uniforms?? I look like freaking Cartman from South Park wearing his mom's bath robe! I look like the Queen of Marsmallow Land! I look like the Creature Bride of the Michelin Man! It's downright GROSS!! Especially since the manufacturers of these uniforms seem to think that anyone with hips the breadth of mine must also be seven feet tall. The result, even with some creative hemming, is that I have the pants pulled up to my pits a la Erkel while my feet are hidden beneath four folds of the material. The top would hang down to my knees if it wasn't being held up by my belt, which then creates enough of a fold around my upper body to clothe a small African village. And all this is done in WHITE ... the one colour/shade that makes Naomi Campbell look pudgy.

But, white is the colour of the school uniform, so I will have to grin and bear it. At least until I lose enough weight to buy a new uniform that isn't cut for a sumo wrestler.

Moving Off The Plateau!

Yup, you read it right, folks! I've moved off of the dreaded plateau. You know ... that really awful wasteland of despair where you land when you've stopped making any weight-loss progress for a period of time. Well, after almost a month of TKD classes, I mustered the courage to take my measurements again, and sure enough, I've dropped another couple of inches! Yay me!

It isn't much ... basically an inch or two around my waist and tummy area. Probably from the hundred or so crunches our Master has us do in every class. But, hey, I'll take it! :)

Add to that the increased stamina I've picked up over the past few weeks, and it adds up to some real progress! Sure, I'm still sweating like Homer Simpson at an all-you-can-eat buffet, but at least I'm no longer collapsing in a heap when I get home.

Last Friday's class was a bit of an eye-opener, though. I've been suffering from shin splints since I started this martial journey. Nothing new there. My shins are notorious complainers whenever a new exercise regime comes into play. Just grit your teeth and work through the pain, ice them when you get home. It'll get better once I've built up a little muscle in the area. But, last Friday I made the mother of all rookie mistakes. During a so-called no-contact sparring match with (of all people) a black stripe (meaning he'll be getting his black belt soon), I smashed my shin into his knee. Apparently, we tried to kick at the same time, and neither of us thought to pull back in time to avoid the collision. Being some 20-odd years younger than I am, the black-stripe limped around a bit and went on with his life. He tells me that he recovered that same night. Me? I'm sporting a bruise about the size of a small dog. A very tenacious small dog at that. It refuses to fade, or diminish in the amount of pain it delivers every time I make the mistake of hitting it against something...like the car door, or someone's fist during other no-contact sparring sessions (can you hear the wry laughter whenever I say "no-contact"?). I've learned yet another important lesson about aging. It takes the body a while longer to recover from simple, minor injuries. Fantastic.

Oh, well. Live and learn, right? If I was concerned about a little bruising from time to time, I should have taken up knitting. Who am I kidding? I probably would have impaled myself with the needles. At least with TKD, I can wear padding from time to time.

Now, on to the next challenge. Belt testing this Friday. Am I nervous? You betcha! But, if I wasn't nervous, then I'd really have something to worry about, right? At least, that's what people keep telling me ... I'm not sure what it means. Wish me luck!

Derailed

Hi there, folks. It's been a while, so I thought I'd check in.

I'm sorry to say that a rather severe cold has forced me to fall off the "fitness" bandwagon. Well, in all honesty, it wasn't so much a "fall" as it was a running leap with a flawlessly executed swan dive.

It started on Superbowl week-end, when we gathered at my sister's house to watch the spectacle that was the defeat of the undefeatable Patriots. This gathering began with a bowl of pasta with meatballs, and ended with large bowls of chips, peanuts and cashews. I figured, after being so good since November, one night of extreme over-indulgence wouldn't really hurt, would it?

By the time we finished stuffing our faces, I felt a little tickle threatening the back of my throat. Oh, I knew full well what that meant. Sure enough, Monday morning dawned, and I felt like I was breathing through a straw. So, no treadmill for me on Monday. This feeling progressed so that by Wednesday, it felt like my lungs were filled with wet cement. Oh, it was a lovely sight. Kleenex everywhere, a nose to rival Rudolf's during the deepest Christmas Eve storm, and watery eyes reduced to slits the size of a paper cut. Very attractive.

So, I've had one week of inactivity, except for the tremendous effort required to cough or sneeze ... or breathe, for that matter.

I'm feeling much better today, though I'm still coughing a little. I therefore promise to claw my way back onto the fitness bandwagon to reclaim my tenuous perch on Monday. I'm really not looking forward to finding out how much damage my little junk food binge and the following week of phlegm production have caused, but I'll just have to deal with it like a big girl ... otherwise I'll never stop being a "big girl", right?

Back To The Ol' Grind

Happy New Year, folks! I hope everyone had a great holiday, filled with fun, food, family & friends.

Now that THAT's over with...

It's back to the ol' grind. Not only are we all (well, most of us) back to work, it's also time to assess the damage that the Holiday eating binge did to the relatively new fitness regime.

Surprisingly, I didn't fare as badly as I thought I would after what felt like a solid week of non-stop eating, and my trusty treadmill sitting idly by, approximately 600km away. Only a half-inch gained here and there. It could have been a lot worse.

Seriously.

Have you ever celebrated Christmas with an Italian family? We go "back home" each year for the Holidays, where my mother feels it's her maternal duty to make sure we all eat as much as (or slightly more than) is humanly possible. After all, she's not here with us for most of the year, so we must be starving, right? The fact that I could pass for Rita McNeil's stunt double has apparently escaped her notice.

If the lasagna, manicotti and canelloni aren't enough for you, you could also have some soup, meatballs, sausages and other various animal body parts that are thrown into the pot to make the sauce for the pasta. We managed to convince her for the first time this year that we absolutely DO NOT need a roast of some sort to go with our salad at the end of the meal.

But no amount of arguing could get Mom to limit herself to two cakes for the night. Cheesecake is a must, after all. It's tradition. And so is the sponge cake she makes every time we visit, insisting that it's my husband's favourite (to his immense surprise). But the one that really took the cake, so to speak, was the double-decker chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for the kids, even though the smell of chocolate makes her gag. They NEED chocolate cake, she will vehemently argue every time. Not want ... NEED. Mom refused to listen to our arguments that children do not NEED chocolate cake at 11:00 at night, which is when dinner is over, because it takes that long to eat Christmas dinner at Mom's house, after all.

So, yes, I'm quite surprised and pleased to find that I've only regained half an inch in a couple of spots over the past couple of weeks, all things considered. But, now the holidays are over, the leftovers have been dealt with, the New Year has begun, and my battle of the bulge has resumed. Hello treadmill, old friend. I've picked up a couple of Friends episodes on DVD to make our time together pass a little more quickly. Next week, we introduce my butt to the floor for some leg lifts, crunches and push-ups.

Happy New Year, back-side. I hope I'll be seeing a lot less of you from here on in. ;)

Progress Report #2

Well, blog fans, it's been 2 weeks since my last progress report, so I thought I'd check in with you again.

Since I started my new "get off my behind once in a while" program back on November 21, 2007, my measurements have decreased by the following:
* Bust: 1" (hubby's not going to be too thrilled about that one)
* Rib cage: 1"
* Waist: 1 1/2"
* Tummy: 1 1/2"
* Hips: 1/2"
* Thigh: 1/2"

Not too shabby, eh? Although you'd think the hips and thighs would show a little more progress, since they're the parts that move the most (if you don't take into account all the jiggling that's going on everywhere).

I had a little scare yesterday, though. Just as I got off my ol' faithfull treadmill (you remember, the one that's been sitting in various corners of my house collecting dust for the past several years), it gave me an error message on the display. "E2" ... whatever the heck that means. Possibly, "Lady, lay off the cookies, would ya? You're killing me here!" I tried clearing the screen, I tried pulling off the little safety key - nothing happened. Fabulous. Just as I decide to get back into shape, my equipment dies and now I'll have to convince hubby that I need to spend another $1000 on a new treadmill - smack in the middle of the Christmas season.

I decided to unplug the machine, as I do every day to avoid power spikes and the like. Just like with a computer - if all else fails, reboot. I came back to it a while later, plugged it back in, and all was fine. I didn't get any ominous error messages this morning before, after or during my daily walk. Whew!!

I Is So Smart!

Hooo, boy, am I in trouble!

You all remember Trouble, right? My 4-going-on-20-year-old? Well, we've finally gotten him toilet trained, after what felt like years of cajoling, bribing, threats and deal-making. As I had been explaining to everyone all along, it was completely his idea. He just decided one day that it was time to give it a try. Great news, right? I never thought I'd be pining for the Pull-Up days.

Trouble has decided that he is dead-set against wearing underwear. That's right, he goes commando on a daily basis. I don't know why. It's not like he ever had a bad experience with underwear, other than everyone asking him why he won't wear them. He has all sorts of wonderful undies - Spider Man, Bob the Builder, SpongeBob SquarePants, Diego, as well as a wide assortment of dinosaurs, trucks and wildlife. None of these characters have enticed him in the least little bit to wear undies.

Well, I thought I'd pull one over on him this morning. While getting him dressed, I slipped a pair of underwear into his pants and pulled the whole kit and kaboodle on and immediately got him involved in some activities before he could notice that something was different. Oh, I was so proud of myself! I sent a text message to hubby, who was extremely impressed. I sent an e-mail to my sister, who immediately called to congratulate me on my cleverness. Yes, I was feeling like quite the Cheshire Cat this morning.

Trouble came over a few minutes ago for a little hug. I took advantage of his proximity to check on the underwear situation - make sure things aren't bunching up on him and the like. But ... wait a second ... I don't feel any undies at all. Where the heck did they go?

"I took them off," was his quick but firm reply. "I don't want any underwear."

And here I was, labouring under the delusion all day long that I had finally outsmarted my 4-year-old. Shoulda known better!!

An Inane Observation...

Generally speaking, I envy birds. I love to watch them as they swoop and soar, dodge and dive. Watching them in flight can uplift your spirits. Their command of the skies is truly awe-inspiring. Their grace and beauty, poetic.

Except for ducks.

Hubby and I were driving to my sister's house the other day when a mallard flew by overhead. We watched it flap frantically until it disappeared over a stand of trees.

Ducks really look like they're not having a good time up there. If I could hazard a guess as to what's going through a duck's mind as it flies along, judging by it's body language, I would say it was something akin to, "oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit."

Next time you see a duck flying by, pay closer attention to it. Tell me that it doesn't look like it's in a bit of a panic. Kind of reminds me of the poor, harassed parent who straps on skis for the first time in their life because the 10-year-old apple of their eye thinks it would be a fun thing to do together. The look on that parent's face as they careen down the hillside is very reminiscent of the look on a duck's face as it takes flight.

Then, of course, there are the landings. Geese don't land particularly well, either, but they're still cool about it. They'll come in on a body of water somewhere, ski in on those gigantic flippers of theirs, settle in and look around with their beaks in the air, as if to say, "Dude, I totally meant to do that."

Ducks will aim for the water and flap desperately in an attempt to avoid a face-plant. Once they've safely established themselves on top of the water, they will continue to paddle around in the same way that a person might pace nervously after narrowly avoiding a near-fatal accident.

"Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit."

Clearly, they're not enjoying the experience. It's almost as if they were wishing that God would have made them penguins instead. Or, if you prefer, that evolution went horribly wrong. "We have to use these flappy things on the sides of our bodies to do what?! Are you out of your mind? Whose brilliant idea was that?! I'll bet it was someone on your side of the family."