Motivate Me

As you may recall, I’m currently in the midst of an intervention.  And, as interventions may go, it’s moving along quite nicely, if I do say so myself.  As with anything in life, finding the motivation was half the battle, really.  You know, that whole mind over matter thing.  To be quite frank, I tend to struggle with a little condition of “matter over mind”.

Recently, though, I’ve reacquainted myself with my inner strength and motivation.  I thought perhaps you all might benefit from some of these highly technical tips and techniques, too.

Money.  As you probably already know, money can be motivating.  I encourage you to consider financial punishments and/or rewards when setting up a personal goal.  If you’re like me though, this alone is easy to lose sight of…like the cost of my gym membership.  The thought of wasting that auto-drafted chunk of change every month has never once been motivation enough for me to drag my lazy bootie to the treadmill. 

Public humiliation.  When in doubt, plan your own roast.  I did and I really hope I get to cancel it.  I REALLY hope I get to avoid that.  Really.  I don’t know if I can survive that.

Circle of friends.  Peer pressure is a good thing…after about 21 or so.  Get a partner – or more – and put them on speed dial.  My partner in crime and I have talked each other down from the ledge more than once already.  With her support, I was able to resist the temptation of the fresh, hot pizza calling my name.  She, with the assistance of my psychological prowess, was able to throw away a completely untouched small fry from McDonald’s.  Together, there is nothing we cannot resist.  Last year, I had a workout partner…until that crazy chick moved without my permission.  While we ran our mouths, and laughed till our sides ached, we worked our booties off multiple days a week – despite our busy schedules and irrational harassment from a tacky gym patron.  Everything’s more fun with a friend.

Tunes.  Not only does music keep your energy level up while your working, but it’s been known to keep me going a little longer, too.  For instance, I may be in the last two tenths of a run when a favorite song comes on.  All of the sudden, I go all music-Nazi-slave-driver on myself and make a rule that I can only listen as long as I’m running.  If I quit, the music goes off.  Usually, a great song will be worth another few minutes of weary muscles and chest pains for me. (Then again, I’ve often said I want to find a gym where it’s completely normal to bust out in song and dance while you’re on the treadmill.)

Open your eyes.  If fitness is your goal, take a good hard look in the mirror.  Naked.  Recently, I started my own ritual.  After arriving at the gym, I drop off the girlies in the play area and head straight for a private dressing room.  Then, I strip.  Nothin’ but skin, babe.  I stand there in the obnoxiously poor lighting from the one pitiful 60-watt incandescent hanging overhead and try to disgust myself.  I look at all the places I usually suck in and cover up.  Then, I suit up and head to the torture chamber, ready to do battle.

Jealousy…I mean “role models”.  Choose the treadmill, elliptical machine, or mat right next to the hot chick.  Watch her.  Get jealous.  Really, really jealous.  Like – bitter and mean jealous.  Let the envy soak in deep until you feel like a fat pig.  Then, push harder, run faster, lift stronger – because you can be that flaming hot, too.  Show that biotch what you’ve got!  Yeah!

An audience.  Be aware of the men watching you.  You may think you look awful – sweaty, stinky, ragged and pale.  Apparently, they don’t agree.  Either that or they just don’t care, because men watch women working out.  That’s all there is to it.  Married  men, single men, old men, young men – they’re all looking at you.  Feel the heat of their eyes boring holes into your arse.  Imagine what they see.  I don’t know about you, but if somebody’s going to be looking at my backside, I hope they see a nice, firm buttocks with just enough softness for a good pinch – not a bowl of jell-o and orange rinds.  Somehow, I think you might agree.

Eye candy.  Look right back at those men.  Sometimes, you get lucky.  Just today, this totally hunky Tim Tebow look-a-like pulled up to the elliptical right next to me. Wow.  Not a minute before, I had begun to back down and woos out.  Miraculously, I got my second (third?) wind, found a little more strength, and stuck it out through the remainder of my mission.  And, as an added bonus, I also noticed a nice looking man downstairs who, through squinted eyes and the red metal handrails of the stairs, looked an awful lot like a scruffy Chris O’Donnell. I was thoroughly entertained. 

Sweet success.  As a friend of mine said recently, nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.  No pain is worse than the sting of defeat.  The miles never look more doable than when you’re looking back over your shoulder.  You never feel fat and lazy AFTER you work out.  Focus on these things. 

I don’t claim to be an expert – by any means.  But, I’m pushing.  I’m hurting, I’m sucking it up, and I’m trying everyday to do better than the day before.  And, that’s all anyone can ever ask. 

 

 

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/d_vdm/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Gettin' Groovin'

Recently, I wrote about the bad habits I've discovered in myself once again.  Perhaps it was the reflection, perhaps it was the number staring back at me on the scale, perhaps it was the not so cute "muffin top" sprouting around my waist, or, perhaps it was the humiliation accountability of publishing such habits in a medium as public as the World Wide Web.  Whatever the reason, I've been making a DAILY which is really good for me because I "don't do daily" effort towards getting my groove back.  

What does that mean?

Well, put it this way...did you know you have muscles on the back side of your ribs???  Wow.  Neither did I, until the past few weeks, at which time I've become PAINFULLY aware of their existence.  Thanks to Tracy, my Wii Fit trainer gal.  

Would you believe that home-cooked meals REALLY DO taste better than fast food or restaurant meals?  And did you know that a classic, homemade fast food (peanut butter and jelly sandwiches) costs less and has LESS CALORIES AND FAT (especially when made with reduced fat peanut butter and on light bread) than more modern fast food "healthy" meals (a.k.a. grilled chicken from Chick-Fil-A or Mickey D's)?  Another startling re-discovery around the neuroclassy household recently.

Or, how about this one, did you know that Weight Watchers Online now has a MOBILE site...suitable for Blackberrys!!!  And there's more, there is even a gadget for my iGoogle!!! Woo-hoo!   My prayers have been answered!

Accompanying these recent positive discoveries, unfortunately, some reveals have NOT been quite so happy.  

For instance, when you get to the gym before 4:30 AM, you're tired by the time you get yourself dressed, your kids dressed, everyone shuttled to their respective locations and, finally, settle into your desk for your morning prep time at work at 8:30. 

When the time changes, you can no longer rely on the sun to tell you when to feed your children dinner, give them their baths, or put them to bed because you're completely obsessed with completing your workout routine on the Wii Fit.  (Must...unlock...one...more...yoga pose....and then trying it a few times before I done...and then I'm really quitting....I mean it this time.)

Drinking a gallon or more liquid per day in addition to my triple venti skinny vanilla latte and Diet, Caffeine Free, mind you, Coke is resulting in a ridiculous number of quick potty breaks.  I can hardly keep this up - and by this, I'm referring to my pants!

Oh, and, thanks to Tracy, my very professional and devoted Wii Fit gal, getting up and down when I make those quick potty trips is much harder than it used to be.  

But, as we've established before, I guess I'm just shallow enough to make it all worth it.  

And with that, I'd better get back to groovin'.

Author's Note:  Oh, the photo?  Yeah...um...that was TOTALLY ME...back when I was a blonde.    Hardee har har....

Bad Habits

I have GOT to do something about my bad habits!

For one, I've developed a very bad habit of NOT waking up in the morning. Well, I guess technically I do EVENTUALLY wake up...but not until an hour to two hours after my I.W.T. (Intended Waking Time). I used to be good at this. Just a few short years ago, I was heading out the door to the gym by 4:15 AM every morning Fire Daddy was on the premises. Yes, you read that correctly. FOUR. A. M.

Now, I faithfully set my alarm - correction, alarmS (I set my clock and the Pink Lady each night) - for four, 4:15, 4:30...and repeatedly press snooze on both alarms until nearly 6:00 AM (sometimes later). This, as you can imagine, does not delight Fire Daddy. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect he might be a bit annoyed with this recent change in my morning routine.

Another bad habit I really MUST do something about involves candy. A lot of candy. Have you ever noticed how addicting those cute little bite-sized candies, like M&Ms and Skittles, are? Oh. My. Gosh. I can eat WAAAAY more of those each day than I care to admit.

I partially blame my work environment. I am a teacher. Schools -- elementary schools -- have more candy than Carter's has pills! I am surrounded by it! Wherever I go, there it is, ready for me to snag another bite, another handful, another Fun Size bag. Perhaps it's my coworker's cutie-patootie little bubble gum machine candy jar, or the bottomless bowl of sugary sweets in the mail room, or the permanent jar of M&Ms that resides on that desk I walk past fifty times per day in the office, or my own candy basket in my own classroom. And it doesn't stop when I leave school for a meeting or inservice. Little chocolate fairies seem to sprinkle tiny treats everywhere I go.

I MUST remember how to say NO. I am no longer 16. (Oh my goodness, I'm almost twice that.) My high school days of sitting in television production class after Second Lunch, surrounded by a flock of boys, as I popped my Skittles (sorted, first, by color) one by one - are gone. No longer can I be "The Skittle Queen", as they so lovingly dubbed me. I must rely on something other than sugar to get me through my afternoons without a bad case of The Slumps or The Grumps. (Those sweet boys were so thoughtful. They quickly learned to recognize the symptoms and never failed to send a runner for that all important red bag on days I was without. ...I wonder what happened to them. Maybe I can find them on Facebook....but that's another post.)

Finally, I know you might be shocked to hear this, but I seem to have developed a rather crippling addiction to caffeine as of late. One day last week, I realized just before dinner that every beverage I had consumed that day contained caffeine. I mean every last one of them. I began my day with a triple venti skinny vanilla latte from some cute little coffee joint I frequent. I chased that latte with a series of Diet Cokes from my office mini-fridge. As I finally found myself choosing a drink to accompany my evening meal (probably something terribly healthy, by the way), I was at a loss. I was ashamed as I reflected on my day's liquid intake.

Consequently, I made a decision to REDUCE (no cold turkey for me) my caffeine intake to one beverage per day. (Note: A triple latte is still, technically, one beverage. It is served in one cup.) I am thankful for my Caffeine Drinkers Anonymous support network on twitter. They encouraged me to stick with it through the headaches, use Excederin as a crutch, and they, inevitably, overlooked my falling off the wagon on Day 3. And Day 5.

In short, I am severely lacking in the Self Discipline Department lately. I really must do something about this.

I'll start tomorrow. Better go set my alarms.

A Dash of Bitterness, Tempered With a Sprinkle of Gratitude

I shared an engaging conversation with my Big Brother (we'll call him Abner) last night. (By the way, this is someone whom I hope to, one day, invite to write a guest post.) Our conversation ranged from hopeful gratitude to resigned bitterness. This conversation was on my mind for a while afterwards, and still today. So much so, in fact, that I've decided to take a few moments to wallow in a bit of bitterness and gratitude.



Bitter To the Bitter End




I'm not bitter about much, but there are a few things that really chafe me, a few things of which I just cannot let go. Here are three off the top of my head.




1. Badly behaved stars who STILL make millions of dollars on each movie/album. (Side note: I have no idea if it is appropriate to refer to them as "albums", since NO ONE that I know of produces vinyl anymore. I considered calling it a CD, but then I realized that many people skip those now and download straight to the iPod. So, forgive my ignorance and insert whatever it is you call a collection of songs nowadays.) I mean, please, people. Think about Tom Cruise's embarrassing behavior towards sweet, cute, smart and simply wonderful Matt Lauer a while back. Doesn't he deserve to be dropped down a notch on the Pay Scale o'Super Stars after that embarrassing display? Or, for another example, Brittany Spears. What a disaster! Don't you agree her "albums" should be placed in the Bargain Bin after such a rediculous series of events? Russell Crow's repeated outbursts and anger fits. Lindsay Lohan's drunken and drugged escapades. Naomi Campbell's temper tantrum and cell phone throwing. Come on, people...are there no consequences in this world?




** I'm sure you can understand why Tom Cruise, in particular, ticked me off in this clip. As a former sufferer of post-partum depression..and currently require said psychiatric drugs to function in life, I beg to differ with his opinions. Besides the fact, Brooke Shields is my girl.


2. Calories in chocolate. PLEASE, PEOPLE! Chocolate should be considered PHARMACEUTICAL and, therefore, CALORIE FREE! I mean, scientists can clone sheep, concoct triple cocktails to sustain life with HIV, make seedless watermelons...but you can't muster up the brainpower to take the calories out of chocolate??? I feel certain there is a demand for it. Perhaps I should start selling brown, magnetic ribbons to put on the back of our cars in support of Calorie Free Chocolate Research. (Please note, I do NOT in ANYWAY intend to belittle the need for supporting other, very valid and important causes, such as Breast Cancer or Autism. I just think the Calorie Free Chocolate Movement deserves respect, too.)


3. The Fall of 80's Dance Moves. I know you've heard the phrase "white men can't dance". HELLO??? In the 80's, EVERYONE COULD DANCE! Now, don't get intimidated, folks. I'm not necessarily referring to the slightly more tricky moves, such as the Roger Rabbit, the Running Man, or the Robot. Nor am I referring to the complex, specialized form of dance referred to as "Break Dancing". That stands alone in a class of its own. I'm talking about the classic bounce, clap, side-step combo that allowed every man, woman and child acceptance on a dance floor. If we can just bring those moves back into popularity, Fire Daddy may actually dance with me in public (without having a pitcher of a certain brewed adult beverage first).


Gratitude: It's a Good Thing.


Readers, I know we all have stress in our lives. You don't want to read a blog filled with such depressing negativity. In an effort to leave you on a positive note today (I couldn't bear to lose one of my eleven, precious followers) I feel compelled to demonstrate my gratitude for the good things in life. Of course, I could go on for days about how grateful I am for my family, friends, children, home, country, blah blah blah...but that's a given, right? You already know how eternally grateful I am for the Pink Lady, the Hornet, Starbucks workers, and my drug-induced sanity, so I won't bore you with those details again. Here, though, are a few items I think you might appreciate.




1. Completely immature comedies. I admit it. I am a BIG FAN of stupidity on the silver screen. I mean, one of the movies that made me laugh more than any other I can recall is Waiting (not to mention the fact that cute, adorable, funny Ryan Reynolds played one of the main characters). You would be hard-pressed to find more grotesque and inappropriate humor than that found in this movie. I also simply ADORE nearly any movie that Will Ferrell, Ben Stiller and/or Adam Sandler make. I am not so proper that I cannot laugh at bodily functions and embarrassing mishaps (that may, or may not, involve indecent exposure). For those of you who are, I say - get over yourself, lighten up, and live a little.





2. Music videos on the gym televisions. Are you ready for another confession? I do not yet own an iPod, or even a generic MP3 player. Yes. Me. Twitterer, blogger, Blackberry-addicted ME. I recently bought an 8 gig chip for my Blackberry, in hopes of using it as an MP3 player, but I've been experiencing some technical difficulties and haven't had a chance to drag my busy bootie into the phone store for technical support. So, in the meantime, I rely solely on Bailey's Gym TV. Thank goodness for that! Without this, albeit predictable, mix of Madonna, Avril Lavigne, Gwen Stefani, Olivia Newton John, and various other artists that I do not know by name (I'm horrible with names of famous people...until they're badly behaved and they make it to the black list), I would be stuck. Alone on the treadmill with muted Fox News, ESPN, CNN, infomercials (at 4 AM), reruns of X-Files, and various versions of cheesy law enforcement reality shows. I wouldn't make it past the first mile. Ever.


3. Mrs. Paul's, Tyson, Campbell's, and cereal. Aaaaah...how I love thee, let me count the ways. 'Tis better to serve junk than serve nothing at all, right? As a working mother, I cannot count the nights when I have been without resources, energy, or withitness to plan a proper meal for my pretty princesses. However, thanks to Mrs. Paul's, they can eat fish (in the form of a stick). Thanks to Tyson, let them eat chicken (nuggets). A hearty bowl of Disney Princess or Dora soup, on occasion, courtesy of Campbell's. And, when all else fails, Froot Loops it is.



I suppose I should have included Nabisco, as well, in appreciation of their breakfast options. Is it bad that my two year-old refers to Fig Newtons as "breakfast cookies"? They're filled with 100% real fruit....



4. Uniforms and Foreign Accents. Need I say much about this? Isn't it fairly self-explanatory? Either of these two attributes is enough to make nearly any man or woman a god/goddess of love in the eyes of the opposite sex. Let's just say...if I keep practicing my Mary Poppins accent with the Little Princesses, and happen to take up volunteering at a local hospital, I'd be beating them off with a stick!

Love-Hate Relationships

I have learned that my life is filled with love-hate relationships. Dang it! There is nothing more frustrating!

For instance, I HATE to go to the gym. Yet, I love it. When I haven't been in a while, I dread it like a trip to the OB/GYN. However, when I'm in a groove, it can be invigorating and uplifting. WHY THE HEE-HAW CAN'T I GET THROUGH THESE SLUMPS, THEN??? Am I really that short-sighted? Do I have memory issues that prevent me from remembering the high of endorphins flooding my bloodstream?

Perhaps that memory condition is the same memory condition that makes me consider, one day, having a third child. As I watch friends and relatives blossom with child, planning for their own blessed events that will soon change their lives forever, I reflect on my own pregnancies and start to daydream about another baby. WHAT AM I THINKING??? I guess my memory must be failing me again. Don't I remember how my body felt as it buckled under the pressure of my little miracle? Have I forgotten my own post-partum insanity so quickly?

On that note, I recall my shopping trip to Target yesterday. OH. MY. GOD. Have you ever wanted to be Elizabeth Montgomery and wiggle your nose to make something, or someone (perhaps yourself) disappear? I love my children. They are, I promise, the light of my life...and all that stuff. Yesterday, though? I was ready to be rid of (at least) one of them!

I was in a completely LAZY mood. (I attribute this to my recent avoidance of exercise. Currently, I'm completely submerged in "fat and lazy" mode.) I didn't even want to get dressed. However, my darling Baby had run out of diapers. Poop! (Pun intended.)

After approximately 30 minutes of necessary preparations required for any dash away from home on a cold day (sweaters, jackets, sippy cups, emergency snacks, blankies, pacie and books), we were finally off. We made it to Target and the trip went downhill from the moment we were in the door.

Any normal folk can just saunter into a store, grab a cart or basket and they're off. Not us. My girlies have to have a "train". (This is their pet name for the Big-Mama-Daddy-People-Pusher/shopping cart. You know, the one with the enormous red plastic two-seater platform attached behind the cart? The one that is next to impossible to push when its empty, much less loaded down with kids and goods?) Fine. We'll get a train, I reluctantly agreed, hoping this would buy me some peace and quiet.

Uh-oh. No trains on side number one. "No problem. Mommy has to return something, so we'll check at the other door." After making my returns, I was disappointed (yet, not surprised) to find that there were no "trains" at this entrance, either.

Fortunately, my eldest was perfectly content to ride in a regular cart. She's really getting too big for this, so she rides in the bottom of the basket. I am aware this is not the safest option, but, as the oldest, she is generally a very obedient child and not at risk of bailing out unexpectedly. My youngest, however, is a completely different story.

"No! I no want to ride! I want free ride!"

"Free ride" is an old family term for being carried by Mommy or Daddy. No slings or carriers will do, either. It is ONLY the real deal.

"Baby, you're too heavy! Mommy can't carry you! You can walk or ride." My attempts to persuade her to conform were in vain. She's freakin' stubborn. So, I tried to be sly. I carried her in front of me, resting her bottom on the top of the basket. This did not go unnoticed. She would scream, tightening her death grip around my neck and straightening her body so she slid off the cart.

I, calmly and lovingly, would explain to her (again) that this was not safe. She is too heavy to be carried throughout the store. I'd present the options over and over again, wasting my breath.

Now, fast forward to about...oh...6 minutes later. I'm breaking down and beginning to resort to threats. I've learned that time out may work at home, but in public it is nearly impossible to enforce. However, Daddy had some luck (relatively speaking) with spanking lately...dare I threaten this? What the heck! It can't get any worse, right?

So, I put it on the table and she -- why was I surprised? -- CHOSE THE SPANKING!!! She called my bluff!!! I quickly realize that there is NO WAY I am going to haul off and pop her a good one right in the middle of Target. Not wanting to back down (yet), I start to make my way to the family restroom. I could get her in there and issue the punishment.

I chickened out. I circled around and decided to go home. Through the checkout I would go and this nightmare would be over.

Enter Princess Number One. I had promised her a treat for being so good. (She really was being remarkably good. Not only was she minding me, but she was attempting to help persuade her sister to mind, too!) Crap. On to the cereal aisle for a little snack-sized bowl of Fruit Loops. On the way, I decided to crack open a can of teacher talk.

"Thank you SO MUCH for being such a good little girl today. Mommy is SO proud of you. I LOVE the way you're SITTING ON YOUR BOTTOM and riding so nicely! You deserve a special treat for your behavior!!! What would you like, honey? Some Fruit Loops?" Of course, IMMEDIATELY, Little Sister pipes up.

"Mommy? I want Fuit Woops. I want wide in de caht."

I felt low. I felt like a sucker and a doof...but I took what I could get. Into the cart she went and I zipped around the store, quickly gathering the items on my list.

Crisis averted, right? WRONG.

The tasty diversion worked for a while, until Baby decided she was finished. Fortunately, she remained content to ride...but she was now charged with sugar. Lord, have mercy. There were Fruit Loops flying all over that store! Squeals and screams, of joy, mind you, filled the store! I spent my shopping time scooping cereal from the floor each time she accidentally tipped the bowl. Sorry, Target, for the ones crushed under the wheels of the Cart O'Giggles. I left my broom and dustpan at home.

I love my daughters dearly, especially my Baby. But, I HATE shopping with them, especially my Baby.