Never fly with PMS

I'm here. I have something to say. I'm sure of it. I just have no idea precisely what it is I am here to say. Let's ramble...

I cut my hair off last week. To just below my chin. I left the salon feeling really, really great about my hair and how cute and sassy it looked. I felt younger. And thinner. And then I showed off my awesome new haircut to my husband. Who said, "I like your hair long."

Wind. Sails. Pffftttt.....

My hair is no longer a valid topic of conversation at our house. Ever. In fact, I am thisclose to paying homage to Batshit Crazy Britney and shaving my head. Then I suppose I'll have to get a rapper wannabe baby daddy and a really good umbrella. It might be more work than it is worth.

Bah. I suppose I'll keep the hair I have left.

Summer is supposedly coming soon, but you couldn't tell by all the snow we've been getting. The next person to utter the words "Global Warming" is going to find themselves abruptly seated on their ass via the back of my hand across their cheek. I mean it, too. I have PMS this week and that means I am legally absolved of any and all responsibility for both verbal and physical attacks on stupid, insufferable people.

What else...hmmmm...what to talk about...AHA! Airlines! We'll talk about airlines! Let's specifically talk about Alaska Airlines and their fees for bags. Granted, I am sure they are not alone in their attempts to alienate all airline travelers everywhere, but they are the airline I am forced to fly most often so I shall pick on them. I'm mean like that.

They are charging $15 to check a bag. Not your second bag or your third bag, but the first and only bag you wish to check. Here's how they get you - I am convinced it is totally sexist, but can't prove it yet - they force you to fit all of your toiletries into a quart sized ziploc bag and if you can't manage this logistical feat of sorcery you have to either throw said toiletries away or check the bag. THEN...since they know us women aren't about to throw away a half-empty tube of our favorite face cream that cost a bloody fortune...they charge you $15 for the bag. WHO TRAVELS WITHOUT TOILETRIES? Seriously? WHO? Well, actually, I think I may have sat next to that guy once or twice, but that is beside the point.

I have an idea for all the airline thieves who come up with these ridiculous charges - how about you start charging for the seatbelt? How about it? It's required that we wear them so why don't you just go ahead and start charging us a fee for seatbelt usage and for maximum impact go ahead and charge by the minute. Alrighty?

Freakin' bastards. I'm just sayin'.

However, I must say, Airline People, those little cookie thingies you serve are divine. I had two packages. Not cause I wanted them, but because I wanted you to have to give them to me Mr. Smiling Flight Attendant... a flight attendant who is clearly a robot given the fact you never, ever stop smiling...it was kind of creepy now that I think about it...what WERE you smiling about anyway?

I suppose I don't really want to know. I would, however, like some more of those cookies...

Hurry up and order your Ab Shake Gazelle!!!

Exactly how many diets are out there? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Or, millions? I am putting my money, and my cellulite, on millions. I am truly amazed, and not just a little frightened, with how many different ideas and versions of how to lose weight you can find. One little Google search and you'll see what I mean.

I have been trying to lose weight for what seems like forever and I have reached out on more than one occasion to "experts." I have been told to eat more. Eat less. Only eat this. Never eat that. I have had a lot of people telling me lately to eat six or seven times a day and I'll magically lose pounds seemingly overnight. However, anorexics never eat and look how skinny they are. OK..I'll admit...bad comparison, but my point is no matter what someone tells you there is someone doing the exact opposite and getting fabulous weightloss results.

I am not a great dieter...I'll admit this. I enjoy eating what I like. My theory? This is life. None of us is getting out alive so we might as well enjoy ourselves, right? Now, don't get me wrong. I don't sit around and eat bags of cookies and drink a two liter of Pepsi every day. I actually eat relatively conservatively. Case in point: dinner last night was 4 oz of chicken breast, 2 cups of steamed broccoli and half a cup of macaroni and cheese (gotta keep the 7 year old happy). I drank a shit ton of water yesterday and I had no soft drinks. Today I have had some yogurt, some coffee with a bit of fat free creamer and a handful of Cap'n Crunch (gotta keep the inner 7 year old happy). I have an apple, peanut butter, a cheese stick and a Luna bar awaiting consumption. There is nary a Snicker's bar on the menu and yet I still cart around enough ass for me and all my friends. I swear I look in the mirror and see the robot Aunt Fanny from the movie Robots.

I just wonder when someone is going to clear up all the confusion. Do I eat meat? Don't eat meat? Sugar? No sugar? Bread? No bread? Are eggs good or bad? How often do I exercise? 30 minutes three times a week, right? Wrong. You need to work out, cardio only every day for an hour. And, on the second full moon of the year you hop one foot from noon until 2 and then turn in four circles and eat a loaf of bread with mayonaise and cayenne pepper.

ARGH!!! It is so confusing and so frustrating. It really is no wonder our society is obese. All these evil fitness people are out there cramming the latest Ab Roller, Sauna Belt, Gazelle, and my personal favorite, the Shake Weight, down our throats trying to convince us that withabsolutely no effort whatsoever (!) we will all have six pack abs! Just send 87 payments of $19.95 and you will be beach ready the moment the UPS guy delivers the box! Hurray!!

I guess I will just keep plugging away. I enjoy the fitness classes I am in and that keeps me going every week. I guess I just need to learn to accept my body as it is. I need to learn to be nice to it and maybe it will thank me by slimming down.

But, just to be safe, I should probably order a Shake Weight.

As an aside: I want to point out that in what has to be the best example of irony EVER -- the current ad displayed on this blog is for the South Beach Diet. I'm just sayin'.

Burpees = Death

It isn't all that often I sit down and whine. Well...not too often...I mean, I don't do it every day. Seriously. I don't. Really. OK...maybe sort of often.

Damn. I hate this self-awareness crap. I prefer to be blissfully unaware of my faults. Same way I prefer to be blissfully unaware of the number of calories in a Snickers bar; but, I digress.

My original point was to whine...let's get on with it...

Those of you who know me are aware of the fact that I have really, really bad knees. Knees that make it abundantly clear the level of disdain they possess for the weight and girth of the ass they are required to support each time I heft myself from a seated position. Knees that have been through one surgery each and possess scars and screws and, if that wasn't quite enough thankyouverymuch, are arthritic. Oh yeah - and for the record - I am only 35. And have arthritis. 35. Arthritis.

Yeah. It sucks.

Anyway, last night I finally made it back to tae-kwon-do and Crossfit after two weeks away. I would think Matt, our fabulous instructor, would take it easy on me and ease me back into things. I would think wrong. Frankly? I think he decided torture was an appropriate way to ensure I think twice the next time I decide to go out of town for work. Or get sick. You know what? I am most certainly thinking. I am sure my new boss will understand when I tell her I can't fly down to San Jose because Matt will take it out of my hide in sweat as soon as I return. Right? Stephanie?

Anyway, here is the Crossfit workout from last night. Don't let the simplicity fool you. It sucks ass. HARD.

21 - 15 - 9
(I do believe the numbers are arbitrary and selected just for maximum frustration. Have you ever tried to stop counting at an odd number when your brain isn't working due to lack of oxygen? Harder. Than. You. Think.)

So - you do 21 chin-ups, 21 burpees (here is a link for those of you who are wondering what in Hades a burpee is) and 21 of these things where you throw a medicine ball at the wall with one arm from several feet away. It has a name, but I'll be damned if I can remember it. If you survive doing that you start over and do it again 15 times and then 9 times.

What does all this have to do with the whining and the knees? Well, it is the reason I was both unable to walk and unable to sleep last night. My knees were ON FIRE thanks to those burpees. Eric offered to buy me a motorized scooter. I was thisclose to finding an infomercial for the Little Rascal and taking him up on it. Instead I took a poorly timed sleeping pill and went to bed. I am so groggy today that I could feed coffee directly into a vein and I would still be half asleep.

On a more serious note -- I am having a hell of a time staying motivated to work out. All I seem to get is pain. I have more muscle than I have had in years, but my weight isn't going down and that was the whole point because I have to get weight off to get my knees to quit with all the bitching. I am not wearing smaller clothes. I still don't look good naked. Seriously? Bulimia is starting to look appealing.

Who says getting fired can't be AWESOME!

The last several weeks have been such a whirlwind of emotion and change that my head hasn't stopped spinning for more than a second or two. I am currently sitting in a cube in an office in San Jose, California having just completed my first week of employment with a brand new company. Not only am I new to the company and the position, but the position itself is new to the company. I am tasked with building out a successful effort around nothing more than a basic job description and a kick-ass idea.

No pressure. Right?!

This kind of "fly by the seat of your pants" stuff is what I thrive on. I have found myself in this type of role on more than one occasion. I think that makes me some kind of sado-maschocist, but whatever...I suppose I can live with that. I've been called worse.

The whole journey started about 5 weeks ago when I was relieved of my responsibilities at my last job. The company, of course, shall remain nameless and faceless and...just to be really safe...let's all pretend they are a figment of my imagination. Alrighty?

Anyway, the job was really a poor fit and if I had been smart I would have turned it down in the first place because I knew going in that I would be something akin to oil in their water. Hardcore IT headhunters don't become corporate yes (wo)men easily. In my case, my body vehemently rejected their attempts at assimilation. In gratitude to my body I have provided it with cookies....and an occasional brownie.

So, I find myself heading off on what we shall all, heretofore, refer to as Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. I can't wait to see where it goes! I have this feeling I am about to have some of the most challenging and exciting experiences of my career...I'll keep you posted...

Repost - Death by M&M

This is a repost of a blog I put up back on February 11 -- I took it down because some ass goblin with no sense of humor took offense. I am reposting it because my life has changed in such a way that my blog is no longer under the watchful eyes of said ass goblin; well, they may be watching, but I no longer care. However, I made a few minor changes. I'm snarky...not evil...or stupid.

At the beginning of the year I was very excited because I got accepted into a weightloss program NOTE: this is a totally generic weightloss program that may or may not exist in real life and any persons mentioned with generic titles as being associated with the generic weightloss program that may or may not exist may or may not be real people. In order to get in you have to meet all these requirements and agree to meet with a health coach and personal trainer so many times a week and keep a food journal and stuff - they even provide all of it for you. I was STOKED! It was going to be AWESOME! I was going to get totally skinny in no time and have six-pack abs and a firm butt and NO JIGGLY PARTS!!! Whee!!!

I lasted less than a month.

It really had nothing to do with not being motivated. I was really, really, REALLY motivated. Honest! I was supremely motivated right up to the point that my health coach gave me a lecture because I ate 10 peanut M&Ms one day. Ten. TEN! ONE ZERO. Not 10 bags. Not 10 handfuls. TEN INDIVIDUAL PEANUT M&Ms. During the entire lecture I managed to smile serenly while imagining all kinds of horrible ways to torture and maim her. Preferably, using a peanut M&M.

I know it would be one of those really weird things to have an overweight health coach. I get that the whole point is for us fat people to get a skinny health coach to help us figure how to be skinny, too. However, there is something irritating about getting guidance from someone who has clearly never met a treadmill she didn't like and has no idea what it means to struggle with weightloss. I think I would rather have a health coach who used to be fat or is still maybe just a little bit fat. You know? Someone who can RELATE. Someone who has sat down on the sofa in front of the television and somehow managed to consume an entire package of raw cookie dough in one sitting. Instead? I got Miss Buns of Steel.

I got someone who told me that I should treat myself from time to time with non-fat frozen yogurt with fresh fruit topping. Someone who advised that when eating Mexican food I should decide how many chips with salsa I am going to eat and then keep a tiny corner of every chip in order to keep count. All I could think at that moment was, "Are you shitting me? You want me to be so freaking MILITANT that I have to count my chips? And, while we are on the topic, exactly when did nonfat yogurt become a TREAT? I'd rather binge and purge you psycho."

I quit the very next day. Since starting my Tae-Kwon-Do class back in the summer I have managed to lose about a pant size, a fair amount of body fat and much of my self-loathing. I have also enjoyed every minute of it. Granted, there are times (like today) that my muscles hurt so badly I want to hire someone to kick Master Edgington's ass...well, to TRY to kick Master Edgington's ass...but, most of the time it is great fun and unless I pass out in class from lack of food no one gives a flip what I did or didn't eat that day.

I think I'll stick to the TKD. Someday soon I will be both skinny AND capable of kicking butt. And when I am? I plan to find that militant health coach and kick her ass. While eating Peanut M&Ms.

I am so NOT a yuppy.

I would have to say that for much of my life I had things pretty darn easy. I grew up having everything I needed and a good portion of the stuff I wanted. I got good grades in school with little effort, got into college, had wonderful friends and ended up in good jobs. I now have a great husband and a great kid and I still have wonderful friends and a good job.

I was not raised to be one of those people that is very motivated by money and belongings. I think that owning a house bigger than you need is ridiculous. I think spending $50k on a car is completely stupid. Fancy label clothes and fancy jewelry? What a waste! I have always felt like the point of life is to LIVE and all the fancy crap is nothing more than ego. People buy fancy stuff and huge houses for no reason other than to prove to everyone else how much money they have and how fabulous they think they are. There is no real value to it at all - it's just yuppy bullshit.

I suppose you are thinking that is just something us poor folk say so we feel better about being poor...WELL, my financial goals are pretty darn simple: DON'T THINK ABOUT MONEY. That's it. I want a roof and food and a little fun and I don't want to have to think about how to pay for it. If that makes me poor then so be it. I'd rather be poor than a jackass. I'm just sayin'.

What I have learned over the last six months or so is how much we, as a society, obsess over things that don't really matter at all. I am guilty of it. I worry about bills and house payments and cars. I worry about this project or that project at work. I worry about my weight and my hair and wrinkles. What have a gained from all that worrying? NOTHING. NADA. NOT A THING. Unless more wrinkles could be considered a gain. Oh, and let's not forget the gray hair.

Instead of all the worrying I should be kicking back and counting how lucky I am that my marriage is incredibly solid, my husband and my son are both healthy, I am healthy. I have a very caring and supportive group of friends in my life. Eric and I have jobs when so many others don't and we get to tuck our son into bed every night and hear him say "I love you."

Why do I tell you all this? Well...Eric and I just made some decisions that will change life as we know it. And you know what? I feel more relaxed and content than I have in months even though I know our decisions aren't the ones we would ever have expected to make.

I have watched friends lose their jobs and lose their homes. I have watched friends literally have their lives yanked right out from under their feet. Having just decided to turn my life upside down I have said NO to all the stress and fear and frustration so many of us have invited into our lives as we have become adults. I have just given the world a big giant "FUCK YOU." And you know what? IT FEELS GREAT!!!

My laziness DOES make me smarter!

Drew, Eric and I have become completely obsessed with the TV show How It's Made on the Science channel. The last 48 hours or so they have been showing a marathon and I now know how they make everything from fur pelts to halogen headlights for cars. The upside of all this TV watching is I now feel slightly smarter for my effort. The downside of all this TV watching is I have accomplished absolutely nothing of value today. I'll muster some concern as soon as this next episode is over.

Brawl in McCall

Every year the league Eric co-directs holds a hockey tournament in McCall, ID, a small resort town about two hours north of here. Eric was tasked with doing league director stuff and I got asked to be scorekeeper. We stayed in a rental house with the main league director, three refs and one of the players. I, as usual, was the only girl.

Here are a few of the things I learned during my weekend adventure at the Brawl in McCall:

1. In order to become "one of the guys" when you are the only wife in a house full of guys who really don't want there to be any wives/girlfriends/whatevers -- you have to blend. My chosen method of blending is to be as loud and obnoxious as they are and to drink as much, if not more, beer than they do. The lesson? When one consumes a half rack of Miller Light and only sleeps for two hours it results in waking up still drunk.

2. When you wake up still drunk from the night before the best cure is to begin drinking again sometime around 10:30 a.m. Since I was the scorekeeper this resulted in lots of entertaining commentary and beer thievery by players in the penalty box. The lesson? When surrounded by hockey players, keep one eye on your beer at all times.

3. A wild coyote will chase a drunk hockey player down a dark, snowy street until the hockey player yells obscenities at it.

4. When you are dead ass tired on the second night of a three night tournament and at 3:30 a.m. the rest of your housemates are still partying, and you have to get up in 2 1/2 hours -- do not, I REPEAT, DO NOT open your bedroom door to yell at them. I now have, forever seared into my brain, the sight of our league director in his underwear.

5. When you are yelling at your housemates at 3:30 in the morning because they are still partying, the most effective choice of words is as follows, "It is 3:30 in the morning. I have to get up at 6:00. SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Then slam the door.

6. When you yell "shut the fuck up" at your drunk housemates at 3:30 in the morning they will, in fact, repeat said phrase to you at every possible opportunity for every imaginable reason for the remainder of the weekend.

7. A Laborador Retriever can run faster than a Honda Accord on a snow packed street.

8. At 7:00 in the morning, on too little sleep, with a hang-over, the funniest thing you could possibly ever hear is, "Dude! You just got passed by a dog!"

9. When you are staying in a house filled with guys and you are standing in front of a window naked after a shower, it is important to always, ALWAYS, be sure the blinds on the window are not completely see-through.

10. An all-wheel drive Volvo will slide down a steep driveway, hit the side of a house and get stuck. Four drunk hockey players are not capable of pushing a stuck Volvo out of an ice rut. Four drunk hockey players will try, repeatedly, to push a stuck Volvo out of an ice rut.

And lastly,

11. Keeping score for 22 hockey games in 2 1/2 days in a freezing cold ice rink with too little sleep and too much beer results in a sinus infection.