Dairy Free: Day 1

I'm doing the Dairy Free Challenge.   The site says:

"What is the worst that could happen? Absolutely nothing…you have no reaction, no change, you go back to your cheesy habits. What is the best that could happen? Your migraines subside, your cholesterol plummets, your energy increases, your body seems lighter, your stomach calms down, you just FEEL BETTER." 

And, they're right… It is comprised of a 10 day dairy-free diet.  The first seven days are the initial dairy break where all of the dairy enzymes are being eliminated from your body.  The beginning includes documenting your feelings, physically and emotionally… after the 10th day, you can reintroduce dairy.   And for the next three days you once again document your feelings.  The idea is that you'll feel overwhelmingly better on the days that you are not eating dairy. 

Many people who have taken the challenge - whether officially, or on their own, have reported reduced joint pains, aches, migraines, bloating and better sleep.  With that information, I've set a couple of goals for myself in the hopes of linking some of my chronic problems with my diet.  The initial and ongoing journal assessments list categories to measure and monitor changes in your health.  You rate various details of your digestive, respiratory and integumentary (skin) systems, as well as sleep and psychological factors.  Interestingly enough, I have chronic symptoms in each of these categories. Therefore, I've chosen to list a goal in each:

1. Decrease congestion.  For nearly six months, I've had congested sinuses.  I saw an ENT, had a scope, and all looks good. I've also been wheezing occasionally - which is new for me.   I have an epi inhaler for emergencies, and have been prescribed some nasal sprays and Singulair (which I stopped taking).  I've opted for more holistic solutions like a Neti pot, saline spray, sinus massaging, a humidifier and increasing my fluid intake.  I haven't seen any progress, so I wonder if the dairy consumption has anything to do w/ this...
2. Healthier digestion.  It's pretty much a norm for me to feel full until I'm starving.  I have a disorder called gastroparesis - which literally means "slow stomach."  I don't know if it's all connected, as my gastroenterologist didn't seem to bothered by it, but I also have acid reflux and not so healthy or consistent "emptying" if you know what I mean.  
3. Clearer skin. While I've never really had acne, I do get MASSIVE pimples.  Usually one or two at a time.. but always those giant ones that I end up trying to pop way too early, which leads to weeks of red spots.  I never learn. 
4. Improved sleep.   Lately, I've had poor sleep.  I think it's related to the fact that I can't really breath.  But, last night I woke up in a cold sweat... it's happened a couple of times in the last month.  I think this could be related to stress, but maybe not. 
5. Reduce aches.  I carry my tension in between my shoulder blades.  My knees ache sometimes and my headaches never ease. I'm hoping removing something that may be toxic to my body will help.

And so begins day one.   Coffee w/ soy creamer and some Nature's Path Organic Flax Plus Maple Pecan Crunch w/ Blue Diamond Vanilla Almond Breeze.

And the very TMI stats for my pre-dairy-free day 1 (yesterday).

Don't Say "Cheese!"

Grumble….gurgle…blerghhhhh.   Ahh the sound of dairy + me.  Like everyone else, I am, to a degree, lactose intolerant.   That really puts a damper on my cheese eating, I tell ya.  Well, no it doesn't.  And therein lies the problem.  

I'm Italian.  I could - and pretty much do - live on a diet of cheese, bread and wine.  Sadly, my body doesn't agree to this regimen.   I can't handle the dairy.  Oh, and I have a gluten intolerance to boot.  Well, a girl can't live on wine alone….

A few years back, when I first learned about this gluten issue, I tried to go gluten free.  You know what sucks?  Gluten free bread products.  Disorders like Celiac Disease can be quite dangerous, if gluten isn't avoided.  Luckily I do not have Celiac, but an intolerance.  It's mostly just uncomfortable.  Sometime debilitating.  But, not dangerous.  So, after a few weeks without gluten, I just gave up.  The quality of life was just not worth it.  Opportunity cost and all that…

Over the years, I've gotten much healthier in my eating.   But, I still partake in dairy and gluten.  I would actually rather give up gluten than dairy.   I can eat cheese by itself, you know…. I love me some Chobani.  And sometimes a girl just needs some chocolate milk.  I don't drink a lot of milk, and what I do in my home is lactose-free.  Cheese, on the other hand… and yogurt.  I think yogurt's bacterial flora helps to balance things out, mostly, but not entirely.  (gurgle)

I'm trying to pay better attention to my body. I'm not feeling so hot.  My weight is stagnant.  And I'm overly tired.  So, I'm gonna try to get rid of the dairy.  I purchased some Blue Diamond Almond Breeze for cereal and cooking and stuff.  I got some Silk creamer for my coffee.  I'm ignoring the fact that I just bought a twelve-pack of Chobani at Costco, and that cheese drawer doesn't exist. 

I think, in the past, I've focused on too many eliminations at once.  I've done South Beach/Atkins where I eliminated or greatly reduced my carb intake.  That means no bread, no cereal, no oatmeal, no rice, no grains, no potatoes….. not for me.  I've tried to go vegan, before taking a step to go veg.  It's just too much.  Focusing on dairy only should give me a good balance.  Now, instead of cheese and crackers, maybe I'll go for some hummus.   My coffee's fine this morning - in fact, I prefer soy milk in my coffee anyway.  

I came across the website www.godairyfree.org.  Many people are opting for this lifestyle change as a means to overall better heath.  It's not just about lactose, but dairy in general.  While there's little convincing research that links dairy definitively to cancers, there have been some connections.   So what's to lose?

To Speak to a Representitive, Tweet Now.

I decided to switch from my $49.99/month internet service with Cablevision to an "upgrade" with Verizon - FiOS TV & Internet for $69.99.  Seemed simple enough, no?

That was on May 25th.  When they came to install the service - which they failed to mention would take 8 hours - the guy planned on installing phone service as well, which I didn't want.  But it seemed simple enough to remove that. 

Then I didn't have service - TV or internet for six weeks.  In the eight or so hours I spent on the phone with Verizon's customer service, they sent me a router, told me to jiggle the cable wire (yeah, for real), and dispatched three tech guys to come to my house - not one of which actually showed up.

Then I got the first bill, which was double what was promised.  But a 2 hour long call to customer service and they swore the bill issue had been fixed.  Until I got the next month's bill which was double the price of the first.

And you know who helped me?  Twitter.  Seriously?  The only way to get support was to go stand on my internet soap box and publicly complain via 140 characters.  Even that wasn't 100%, but they eventually got someone out to me, and placed follow-up calls.

Remember the days when we used to yearn to speak to someone in person?  Now we need to pray that the company takes social media seriously.  It's quite obvious that the small pool of people who seek support via social media, at least at Verizon (and Geico), are getting far better customer service than the masses.

Too bad that didn't work for Avis recently...  More on my car-rental from hell later. 

Giving My Marrow

http://getswabbed.com

Bone marrow is the spongy part of some of your bones that contains stem cells.  Stem cells are basically starter cells - they can transform into any cell in your body.  Hence the science community's push for legislation that allows for harvesting said cells. 

Specifically, the bone marrow stem cells can be made into new blood cells.  The new blood cells can save the lives of patients suffering from blood cancers like leukemia, lymphoma and myeloma. A bone marrow transplant saved my boyfriend's father's life a few years ago, when he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, an aggressive and highly fatal form of blood cancer.  He's now been cancer-free for over two years.

Today, I decided to join the National Bone Marrow Donor Registry (Be The Match Registry).  There are several campaigns urging people to give, but little information about the process is publicly known.  After reading this article in Marie Claire, I decided to just do it.  According to the article, the author joined the registry at a marrow drive.  She swabbed her inner cheek w/ a Q-Tip, and then went on her way.  A little while later, she was contacted and a package was sent to her.  She was a potential match for an 8-year old girl with leukemia. After committing to the donation, the process involved laying off of aspirin and alcohol for a couple of weeks and taking a med that increased her body's production of white blood cells.  On the day of the harvest, she spent a couple of hours at the hospital, then took a nap and was back to normal.  And the little girl lived.   The little girl beat cancer.

Wow.  I signed up online.  Since you can't swab your cheek online, they'll be sending me the at-home swab kit.  I'll need to send that back and then, just wait.  I'll be on the donor list until I'm 61 - for more than thirty years.  It's possibly that in that time, no one will match my genetics, but it's also possible that someone will.   And I hope to be able to save someone's life one day.

Keep me honest

I need support now more than ever.  I was so lucky to be a part of a weight loss competition with a local radio station.  They gave us six weeks to work with a group of personal trainers.  I was there four times a week doing strength and cardio.   They helped me monitor my nutrition and everything.  It was incredible.  But it's over now. 

At the end of the competition, my team won.  Together we lost 46 inches and 55lbs. I only lost 7lbs, but that was all in the last two weeks.   I did, however, lose 9.5 inches.  2.75 of which were from my waist alone. 

I don't want to stop.  But, the competition is over, along with the free training sessions.  And I can't afford a trainer on my own.  I wish I could.  Having someone there routing you on is incredible.  Even knowing that someone is waiting for you for that 6:45am appointment makes hitting the snooze button less of an option.

I'm fearful that I won't be able to keep going alone.  Let me rephrase that.  It's not about ABILITY.  I'm afraid that I won't be motivated to keep it going.  That I will just fall back into my lazy cycle.  I am, however, trying to make small changes in my entire life.   Like, I'm trying to make my bed every morning.  I know that sounds stupid and trivial, but I never have made my bed (and I'm a nurse, go figure).  My mom just did it for me.  And I've always lived alone, or at least had my own room since then... But, it's one thing I'm trying to do every day.  Next step, put my laundry away as soon as I take it out of the dryer.  Oh, do I dread that.

But, with this exercise and weight loss journey, I really  think support from others will be the biggest help.

Cee In Training

I've been working out.  I'm not really seeing the results I want, but hell…. I gotta do it.  Monday and Friday mornings I work with a trainer.  She's good.  She makes me feel sore for the next 24 hours.  We do a lot of work on my arms, butt and trunk/abs.  It's like the total chick-needs workout.  We do some cardio, like the treadmill or the bike or jumping on that half ball thing. 

Wednesday I'm with a guy I don't know to well, but he seems like he knows what he's doing.  It's better when the trainer knows you better.  I think my morning  trainer has a better feel for my capabilities and needs.  Thursday, I work with the owner of the gym.  He's good.  You can just tell.  He pushes me.  Maybe it's a little too much because my body gives up.  But is that what he's supposed to do? I really have no clue.

After 5 weeks, I'm only down 7 pounds.   That just sucks.  Realistically, I'd like to get ride of another 40.  It's hard.  I've dedicated so much already and I'm just not seeing what I'd like to see.  And what's worst of all is that this free membership to the gym is running out.  I'm almost done.  What do I do after that?  How do I keep moving?

By The Numbers

When AIM first came out and chatting it up with strange guys didn't get much more personal than a/s/l, I was up till the wee hours of the morning talking about myself.  I remember one time transposing the numbers 124 to read 142 lbs and thinking "I will KILL myself if I am ever 142 lbs!"  Now, I'd kill to BE 142 lbs. 

Perspective is a strange beast.  Every time I've stepped on the scale since I was 14, I've declared that this is the heaviest I would ever be.   You know what?  I'm a big fat(ter) liar!

But, even a few months ago, seeing the scale read 199, I was happy to at least know it wasn't yet at 200.  Until I hit 205.

I guess I have delusions of myself.  I mean, I think I'm gross in an internal world.  But I don't see myself and huge.   I wear a size 14 and that pisses me off.  But then I think, well, it's not a 24.  But, I'm over 200 lbs.  Men shouldn't even weigh that much.   I feel gross.  Disgusted with myself.

I've been seeing a trainer four days a week for the last three weeks.  I am part of a weight loss competition for some radio station.  I have a team of three other people.  We are competing against two or three other gym teams. And in two weeks, we have our final weigh-in.  As of last week, the one guy on our team has dropped 20 pounds.  His 128 lb fiance is down to 120.  And the other girl is steadily trucking along.  I, on the other hand, have only lost 2 pounds.  Figure that out.

I mean, fine.  I had beer and bbq over Memorial Day.  I downed pitchers singing karaoke.  I made and ate chocolate chip cookies, and might have had stuffed French toast one morning.  BUT.  The bottom line is that I have been going to the gym four times a week.  I have been sweating and lifting and doing squats!  And planks!  And strange combinations that I am not coordinated enough to do using machines that scare me.  But I'm doing it and doing it well.  And aside from the four days that I didn't count my calories, I've been steadily eating a protein-rich, low fat, low carb 1300 calorie diet.

So, they tell me I need to do more cardio.  Ugh, but when??  And right, that's a stupid question.  I could do it before my morning sessions or after my evening sessions at the gym.  Or, I could do it on my three off-days.  But, God, I don't wanna!

I'm trying more with the food.  In general I eat well.  But when I'm off, I'm off.  So, I need to be more mindful.  I really thought, after years of random dieting, that the only way I'd lose would be to exercise regularly. (PS, I can't even spell exercise correctly without spellcheck!) I'm doomed!

Stress Related Obesity

I've only lost weight twice in my life.  Once, when I was fourteen and stopped eating.  And once when my ex and I broke up and I was too distraught to eat for three weeks.

Prior to The Break-up of '08 I never understood those women who couldn't eat when they were upset.  Nothing soothes me better when I'm feeling blue than bottle of wine and some fresh chocolate chip cookies. Or mac and cheese.  Or just cheese.  But I guess I never had that crushing sadness before The Break-up. 

Of course, it was absolutely the right move to end the relationship, but I couldn't believe that at the time.  After three weeks of mourning, I pulled myself out of bed, put on some newly-loose pants and stepped on the scale.  I'd dropped 11 lbs in three weeks.  Sweet!  I made sure everyone knew that, too.  I was proud.  Proud at 175 lbs.

By the following year I put on 5 pounds.  That was about my average - 5 lbs a year.  It doesn't seem like a lot, and really, one wouldn't ever notice it.  But, when you look back 10 years - holy crap, that's 50 lbs!

Then I started nursing school.  That was two years of extreme stress, vending machine dinners, late night study snacking and wine.  In my two years of school, I gained 19 pounds.   And I was officially a cow.  And taking off that weight ain't easy.  I don't even know where to begin.

It's Never Really Gone - Like Herpes

In college, one of my new best friends had been recently hospitalized for complications related to her anorexia.  Instantly I was jealous of her for having the will power to not eat.  (I know, it was insane). My dabble in anorexia was short-lived, and only took me to a slightly underweight level.  And then I discovered my love of food and vodka.

But this new friend, she was so GOOD at it.  I resented her for it.  I fancied myself "recovered" but that was a sham.  I think my constant focusing on what she ate actually helped her in the long run.  Your average Anorexic doesn't typically want others to notice her eating habits.  She wants you to think she eats like a bird naturally. She wants you to see that she didn't clear her plate, but she doesn't want you to observe her scraping up the last bits of blue cheese dressing and licking it clean.  I think the "I know what you're doing" eyes I gave her did help her after all. 

She's very strong and healthy now.   And we're still great friends.  I don't think she ever knew that I was jealous of her eating disorder though.  It probably wouldn't have helped her back then.

Sometimes now, I wish I had the "will power" to avoid food.  Instead, I usually have a snack.

Remember How I Finished Nursing School?

That was over a month ago.  Remember how I was supposed to spend all my free time studying for the NCLEX?  Remember how I was gonna ACE it?  Yeah, well, I'm looking at the test just a few weeks away... and I haven't even started preparing.  I'm an idiot.

Time to do some questions.  God!!

Dr. Cee's Theory On The Booze And The LBS

I don't know what an average college girl drinks, but my friends and I weren't messing around.  We blacked out, passed out, fell down, and one of us chipped her tooth on the floor of the bar.  We were in it to win it.  I easily consumed 1500 calories in a night out drinking.  Jack and Cokes and Jaager shots added  up.  Not to mention the 3am nacho fiesta we'd prepare when we got home.   But, here's the thing: after I awoken from my spinning fog, i'd spend the next 24 hours vomiting.   Alcohol bulimia - binge drinking and projectile purging.   It sounds crazy,  but I'm pretty sure that's why I didn't gain any weight in college.   This is not a diet I recommend for anyone's stomach, blood-brain barrier, optic blood vessels, throat or tooth enamel.   Or dignity. 

Dabbling In Anorexia

As I started growing taller,  I was still fat.  In eighth grade I made some new friends.  And I decided I wanted to date boys.   Remembering the fond words of a family member "you're getting FAT" on Christmas Eve, I knew the time to hesitate was through.  Clearly, the only thing I could do was stop eating.  So, for about a year I ate bagels.  Well, one bagel.  One cinnamon raisin bagel per day, to be specific.  I started eating it when I began to feel dizzy in the morning at school… and nibbled on it, pulling the skin layer off first, then the insides.  That would last me throughout the school day. If I was hungry, I'd swallow the piece of gum I'd been chewing all day.  That gave my stomach something to work at as it tried desperately to pull nutrients from my ten calorie stick.  I'd come home and have a lovely nutritious iceberg lettuce and tomato salad with fat free Hidden Valley Italian dressing.  I dropped 40 lbs that year.   My doctor applauded my hard work.  Dumb ass couldn't spot an eating disorder staring him in the eyes.





Word to the wise... when a 14 year old girl drops 40lbs in a year, ask her more than "are you eating?"

But, screw it, I landed a boyfriend!  And I bought a bikini.  Va-va-voom.  The Goodyear Blimp was now dating boys, breaking up with them and picking up new ones, turning down guys she'd been in love with in middle school…. all that in a lime green mini skirt - size 5, bitches! 

Then I discovered alcohol. Surely binge drinking didn't have anything to do with the weight gain - actually I have a theory on that. 

Movin' and Shakin' and Jigglin'

That same summer when Lauren sent my fat ass running home, thighs rubbing together, my family moved.  Ahh a new start.  And stress.  And gaining weight.   When I started fourth grade, I thought I was hot stuff.  (I even wore a fire engine red skirt and matching striped shirt to school on the first day.  The look was completed with slouch socks and Keds.  Not to mention the fact that I slept with curlers in my bangs for the perfect poof.  Hot.)  Until this giant boy started referring to me as the Goodyear Blimp.  I didn't even know what that was, but I knew "blimp" was not a flattering term.  He said it a lot.  I hated it. But, then I got boobs later that year, and started wearing a training bra, so his opinion didn't matter so much anymore. But, I was definitely still fat. 

During that time my brother was way too skinny.  He's three years younger than me and was a string bean.   So, my dad would make him egg nog every night.  With whole raw eggs, milk, ice cream, peanut butter, bananas and chocolate syrup all blended up.  And you bet your ass Fatty Cee always gulped down a glass.  You'd think maybe Pops might have thought to encourage the fat kid to abstain.

Over the next two years, I got eight teeth pulled, leaving my four front top and bottom teeth in a partially-toothed smile.  Sexy.  Oh, and poofy bangs.  One year, for Christmas, I asked for jeans from one of my favorite shops in the mall.  I wanted green jeans, and purple jeans and red jeans and yellow jeans, and of course white jeans.  It was 1993.  I told my mom over and over again that I was a size 5.  I don't where the idea that I was a size 5 came from, but I was sure of it.  I'd probably heard Brenda Walsh ask for a size 5 or something.  I'd never tried on a pair of jeans before that. 

I was sorely disappointed come Christmas morning when not one of the rad new jeans zipped up.   I cried.

A few days later, my mom took me to the mall to exchange my jeans.  The 7's didn't fit, nor the 9's.  And I remember telling my mother that I would NOT be wearing any size larger than that.  This was just the first in a long history of fitting-room-provoked-tantrums.  I left the mall without anything but a receipt for returned items.

And I began wearing my mom's hand-me-down acid washed stretch jeans.  Cesca fondly reminds me that they had no pockets, and had lace up the side.  I really was sexy. 

one of the many reasons I will never raise children in manhattan

I’m sitting at a nail salon on the Upper East Side in NYC ($50 mani/pedi btw.  Ridiculous).  There’s a mom in her forties sitting next to at the pedi station.  She’s yelling across the room to her six year old daughter who is receiving a massage.  Because six year olds are stressed, you know.  The mother tells me to look over, saying that, at six, she had never even heard of a massage.  I laugh - you know, because she sees who ridiculous this is as well, or so I thought.  I said something about how my mom wouldn’t have allowed nail polish in the house (mess!)  Mom goes, “ahhhhh, but it’s all part of the New York City lifestyle.”

After I vomited, she tells me about the woes of having to bring her daughter with her for her weekly mani/pedi/massage appointment.  Gross.  Later, she’s yelling “precious baby, don’t smudge your nails!  Oh goodness!”  Remember, she’s six.  Later she’s advising the child to start a weekly blog (six) about the different nail polish colors she’s tried.

It’s all very magical until I’m interrupted by “YOU PAY NOW” and I scrounge around in my purse with wet hands for an outrageous sum of money.  Have I mentioned that I hate the city.  Not that the interpersonal skills at nail salons are any better in the burbs.

Anyway.  As I’m leaving, I hear the mom telling the manicurist that her daughter’s prink finger is smudged and it should be fixed.  Immediately.  She has alot of errands to run, after all.  Because it’s important that your nails are pristine when you’re playing in the sandbox.

Fat Kid

Backing up a bit. I remember having weight issues as young as 8 or 9. I lived on the kind of block where all the kids ran wild until our respective mom's screamed "DINNNNNNNNER!!" and we disbursed.

Dinner usually consisted of some meat, breaded, and cooked in oil with a heaping side dish of cheese or butter drenched veggies. Nutrition wasn't a focus in my fam.

There was always a mixed bag of children of various ages around. I was in the second tier. There were a few of us around the same age in that 8-10 range. Then some younger kids and some older almost-junior-high-age kids.

I remember one girl, Lauren. She was heavy. So was her twin brother. And they were probably three or four years older than me. That instantly made them the coolest people in the world. Looking back, they were obnoxious. But in our kingdom, they reigned.

We played this game. I don't know why. Basically it was "See Who Can Push Someone The Furthest." As the pushee, you'd stand with your back to the pusher. They'd then see how far they could lunge you ahead. I still have a scar on my left elbow from when Lauren sent me flying to the blacktop. I remember her asking me "How much do you weigh? That was hard!" I answered with "65 pounds." That was untrue. I don't recall my actual weight, but it was probably closer to 90. She scoffed and called me a liar. I ran home and have no memory of seeing her again.

And so it began... I was aware. I was a fat kid and I knew it.

By The lbs

I always fancied myself "athletic." But, really, that's a lie. Sure, I played softball as a kid. On the town rec team. In left center field. Until I was 13. I sucked. I played field hockey too. But I was cut from that team before hitting Varsity. I made my basketball debut on the freshman team - when they were actively recruiting enough players to make having a team justifiable. I don't even know the names of the positions. Our uniforms were cute though.

I went to my college's state-of-the-art gym about 10 times in my four years as a co-ed. And I've been a member of various gyms since entering the real world. I'm still paying for a membership to a gym I've seen twice. I don't even know where the locker rooms are.

And needless to say, I've steadily gained weight since the days of field hockey pre-season ended.

I was 121 at my lowest. I was 14 then. And I had just spent the summer between middle school and high school starving myself. My hip bones stuck out, and I loved it. In the morning, I could weigh around 119. Ohhh the teens. How I loved them.

I sucked at sports, but I played. Then I stopped. Then I got fat. Then I stopped eating and got skinny. Then I started drinking. Then I graduated college and sat on my ass for 8-10 hours a day in front of a computer screen. Then I weighed 200 lbs.

Can't Find a Betta Man

That year or two after college is a time for nothing more than trouble. You don't quite know how to be an adult. You're not quite supposed to be out partying every night. You don't really know what to do at all. But, what you do know is that you can A) still hold your liquor, and B) afford way more of it than you could in college.

My girlfriends had fun after college. And during that time we came across an array of interesting young "men" while living and partying in NYC. From 5pm Friday night through the wee hours of Sunday morning, we let loose on NYC. After several months - and several "$3 deals" (a Pabst and a shot of tequila only available after 2AM) we decided it would be well worth our effort to document the series of guys we encountered.

And so, sometime during the summer of 2005, the Can't Find a Betta Man book was born. Its little black book-sized pages were quickly filled with the nicknames of men we dated, danced with, made out with, and ran back to tell each other about.

And, for your reading enjoyment, here's taste, with some commentary on what I can remember about these guys:

Indian Nelly
We ran into this gem in DC. He wore a Band-Aid on his cheek around the time that Nelly was rocking that look. Oh, and he was from India.

Doodle
During a party, Doodle was munching on some Cheese Doodles. After his tasty treat, he strolled over to one of my girls and tried to hit on her. He had orange crumbs all over himself. Including in his eyelashes. Somethings you just can't get past. Clearly, the relationship was destined for failure. For, he would never love her as much as he loved his Doodles.

Batman
Sometimes we went to the South. Sometimes we went to bars in the South. Sometimes these bars had Country Music Karaoke. Sometimes men dressed up as Batman performed renditions of Garth Brooks songs. Sometimes, we fell in love.

Stay tuned for more...

Cee In Training

I've been working out. I'm not really seeing the results I want, but hell… I gotta do it. Monday and Friday mornings I work with a trainer. She's good. She makes me feel sore for the next 24 hours. We do a lot of work on my arms, butt and trunk/abs. It's like the total chick-needs workout. We do some cardio, like the treadmill or the bike or jumping on that half ball thing.

Wednesday I'm with a guy I don't know to well, but he seems like he knows what he's doing. It's better when the trainer knows you better. I think my morning trainer has a better feel for my capabilities and needs. Thursday, I work with the owner of the gym. He's good. You can just tell. He pushes me. Maybe it's a little too much because my body gives up. But is that what he's supposed to do? I really have no clue.

My cousin, J (from our poor attempt at bootcamp) entered us in a radio contest. Now, I have satellite radio, so apart from Opie & Anthony and Cosmo Radio (nice combo, huh?) I don't really delve much into the on-air world. Needless to say, I had never heard of the station, let alone the competition that J was interested in. Basically, it's a take on 'The Biggest Loser' where three teams of four are each assigned to local gyms, given trainers and compete against each other. Six weeks of free personal training, after two years of eating out of a vending machine during nursing school? Uh, yes. Sign me up.

I still don't know what the prize is. And I don't care. I have six weeks (I'm in week 5 now) of training for free. Final weigh-in and measurements are next week. The scale isn't making me happy, but I do feel toned. The fact that I'm not losing weight sucks because I had zero problem putting on 19lbs since Aug 2009. Hi, I'm fat.