Vacation...all I ever wanted...

For the past week or so I've been doing a lot of this...

This is actually the husband, but you get the point.

And this...

And a little of this...

And this...

That's right...my family hit the beach for our now annual vacation. Now, when I say family...i mean F A M I L Y. Me, the hubs, the Lulu (my daughter), my mom, my step dad, my dad, my step mom, my brother and his future wife.

Yes, you read that right. My parents...my divorced parents...vacation with each other and their spouses. I know...we're weird, but it works for us.

This post isn't about my family dynamic though. (That's a whole other issue!) Before I left, I was unsure about how I was going to handle my food/exercise routine while away. I hemmed and hawed about bringing my trusty WW journal, then never took it out of my bag. I debated about what I would do for exercise, and then let the opportunities find me.

This week was an experiment in control for me. I ate different foods than I normally would at home (pretzels, snacks, etc.) but I had reasonable portions. Any desserts were 3 bite tastings. I drank more alcohol than I would normally during the week, but tried to balance each drink with water. Exercise came in the form of walks on the beach and canoeing with the hubs. I went with the flow and I didn't stress about it. I wore tank tops and sleeveless shirts, which is huge for me because I am always self conscious about my arms. I didn't freak out about being in my bathing suit. For that week, I let the choices come naturally and I didn't stress.

The result? My clothes don't feel any tighter than when I left. I honestly haven't stepped on the scale yet, so I don't know if there is any change in the numbers. I am back journalling, P90X-ing (damn you Tony Horton and your one armed pushups), and kickboxing. I have a new perspective and attitude...for now at least. I have the same goals and motivations, but I have left some of the overwhelming pressure that I put on myself subside. I am doing my best. I am working hard. I am moving forward. Triumph over these damn fat pants will be mine!

Does Motivation Matter?

The title of this post is rhetorical...of course motivation matters....that is a given. But does the TYPE of motivation matter? Does the WHY matter as long as it gets you where you need to go?

As far as my weight loss journey goes, I do have the "normal" reasons for wanting to drop my excess weight. I want to be healthy. I want to be a good example for my daughter. I want to be able to run races and feel like an athlete. These are my public, run of the mill, standard answers to the "why" behind what I am doing.

I'll let you in on a little secret though...there are other reasons...reasons that might not be the "purest" of motivators, but they are there all the same. To be honest, most times these "dirty" reasons are more motivating for me than the stock answers.

Confession time....I want to lose weight/get fit because...

1. I have a friend/co-worker who is one of those women that you (well me) wish that you were. (I really wish that I could post a picture of her here, but I wouldn't do that to her.) She's little and cute, always perfectly dressed and accessorized, and super smart and nice to boot. When I'm standing or sitting next to her, I feel like Godzilla. I so want to be able to sit with her and not feel like she is a city dweller fleeing frantically as I try to devour Japan.

2. My daughter has a signature saying "Ha ha now!" It's her equivalent of sticking her tongue out and saying "Nyah Nyah Nyah." I really want to have a "Ha ha now" moment with a couple of my exes...the more jaw dropping the better. During my runs and kickboxing classes I sometimes visualize whole scenarios where I get this moment. I know it makes me petty...oh well.

3. I have a group of friends that I affectionately call "The Rowdies." These girls are a little younger than I am and who I go out with when I feel like I want to recapture some of my youth. These girls are always coiffed, tanned, and dressed to the nines. When we go out I feel like the older sister (which I am, but still...) I want to go out and feel like a TRUE Rowdy...coiffed, tanned, and dressed to the nines. (Again, I wish I could post a picture of my Rowdies...)

4. CLOTHES. I want to be able to able to go into the Gap, Banana Republic, and Ann Taylor and be able to buy anything I want and not have to worry about if something is going to be too tight, or not button or zip. I want to look DAMN good.

This is my short list of motivators. I know they aren't the ones that would get published in Shape, Self, or Fitness, but truly they are the ones that get me through. So, does the WHY matter if it gets you to where you need to go?

Tools for Triumph!

At first I was going to title this post, "Secrets to Success," but I figured that I would be a tad bit more creative with it....not TOO much more creative. I have the mother of all headaches (more on that later) so a tiny bit of alliteration is all I could manage. (I was also going to put a picture of "The Situation" under the heading "Tool #1, but the aforementioned headache prevented me from figuring out how.)

Tool #1

My Weight Watchers Journal.

Hidden inside this snazzy cover is both my 12 week Weight Watchers journal and and my weigh in "passbook" that I hand over every week at my WW meeting. Journalling works for me. I know that when I am diligent about writing down what goes into my mouth, I not only am (usually) successful on the scale, but I also FEEL in control of my eating. I know when I'm lacking in certain areas...when I'm eating too much...or not enough.

This being said...am I perfect at keeping my food journal. Nope...not really. There are days (primarily the weekend) when I don't journal at all and there are days when I stop writing after lunch. But, for me, this is about the process...about getting better, rather than being perfect all at once.

Tool #2

My 32 oz Nalgene Water Bottle

(BPA free thankyouverymuch!)

Drink water keeps things...ummm...moving. And when I'm drinking water, I am not drinking diet soda. (Coke Zero...oh how I miss you so.) I'm really bad about drinking my water in the winter, much better about drinking it in the summer months. Although I try to drink a majority of my water plain, I do use Crystal Light-ish packets. Right now I am LOVING the True Lemon raspberry lemonade packets. Not too much sweetness, just a little "oomph!"

Tool #3

My sneakers.

(In this case, my nasty Mizunos that are starting to spring a hole by my little toe. Be thankful that blogger does not have a smell-o-vision option)

Exercise is a huge part of my life now. Every morning I drag my ass out of bed at 4:45 to walk four miles with my mother. This takes us about an hour and centers my mind for the day. Later on in the day I have a second workout of the sweat dripping variety---P90X, kickboxing, running, TurboJam...anything to supplement the way I start my day.

(Side note on those Mizunos...I got them off of eBay--brand freaking new--for like $15. The seller had bought them without trying them on and they were too narrow. I saved like $100 because of this poor woman's mistake! It's worth your while to do a quick search if you are in the market for some new kicks. You never know what treasures you might find!)

Ummm...I can't lift my arms!

I re-started the P90X rotation yesterday. For those of you who have not yet experienced the *pleasure* of workouts with Mr. Tony Horton, Day One Week One of the rotation is Chest and Back. What this workout entails is ninety bazillion pushups , chin-ups, pull-ups..all sort of different kinds of "ups." I sweated. I swore and the next morning...it hit. Holy soreness, Batman. My A R M P I T S hurt. Well, not really my armpits, but that area that leads into your armpit where you can tend to get those unsightly fat bulges when you try to wear a cute summer dress to a wedding. Yeah, those. SUPER DUPER SORE. I never really realized how much I use those muscles...little things like....oh....I don't know...getting dressed??

Today was "owie" to say the least. But I will not let a little discomfort...or Tony Horton's lame jokes dissuade me. I am on a mission people!! What is a little armpit soreness compared to looking fabulous at my brother's wedding??

Mirror, mirror ... on the wall

At this stage in the game, I have an adversarial relationship with all things reflective. I go out of my way to avoid full length mirrors, store front windows, dressing rooms...you get the picture. Now, before you start worrying about me, I don't go off to work without taking a glance in the mirror in the bathroom. The mirror above the sink...you know...the one who shows my reflection approximately to my collar bones. I rely on my husband to let me know if the region from collar bones to toes looks ridiculous. (Really...think about what a risk this is.)

I don't know exactly when my mirror and I began to fight. What I do know is that I started placing all the blame on the reflective surface rather than the "reflectee" (me.) Last August, my family and all of my parents (both original and step versions) travelled to the Cape for vacation. The mirror in the beach house bathroom was quite a bit lower than the one at home. On the first day of vacation, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "Daaaaamn..." I thought "This mirror is weird. Makes me look really thick around the middle, not like the mirror at home."

Ummm...that mirror at home...remember, stops at the collar bones....misses out on the "middle" section entirely. What did I think? That the mirror was broken or something? Needed new batteries? I am not even going to mention the fact that it didn't really dawn on me what the truth was until TWO months later in October when Mike and I went to the beach house for our anniversary.

The point of this tale is not to prove how dense I can be sometimes. I have MANY more stories that prove that point. The point of this story is that I would truly love to make up with my mirror and start our friendship anew. This is going to take a lot of work on my part...I have many amends to make, but it is my hope that come this August, that beach house mirror and I will be on a little friendlier terms.

Losin' Ain't Easy

I have a wedding in October. Not MY wedding, mind you, that happened almost ten years ago. This would be the wedding of my little brother...the cop..the gym rat...the runner. His fiancee? Works at a gym part time. Closes the gym at the end of her shift and works out for two hours.

Yeah. And guess who is in the wedding. Yep...that would be me.

I want SO badly to look awesome in this bridesmaid dress. I want to be able to look back at the pictures of the weekend and love what I see, not feel like I have to avoid the camera.

I have a little under five months.

I am working hard. I turned myself into the WW police and have been watching my food intake. For the first time in many weigh ins, the scale is I N C H I N G downwards. I have started strength training and am starting to see muscle tone. But . . . its slow.

As I write this, I am watching the Biggest Loser finale. I love the show for its inspiration and the amazing transformations, but when you see people dropping 10, 15...30 pounds in a week, it gets hard to be all WOOHOO!!! about a .5 loss on the scale on a Saturday morning.

Also as I sit here, I hear my Grammie whispering in my ear, spouting little bits of wisdom..."Slow and steady wins the race" and "For Pete's sake, Beth Ann, patience is a virtue!"

I answer her back (in my head of course), butchering one of my favorite lines from one the wise men of our time and say..."But DAMN Gram, Losin' Ain't Easy!"