Friday, May 25, 2007

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. (and so on)

Countdown to Mar's Big VACAY: 1 hour and 4 minutes! Squeeeeeee!

Can you tell I'm a bit excited? And I need a drink?

Be afraid.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Flush. Rinse. Repeat.

The cleanse is over.

The bad news: it was GROSS. I was hungry. And grumpy.

The good news: I'm down EIGHT pounds. That's a lot of gross stuff that came out of me! Wheee! My stomach is noticeably flatter. I have less appetite. My skin looks great.

In non-toilet related news: we are gearing up for the annual family exodus from the Southland/Land of Plenty to the Lands of Origin/of Many Beverages with Alcohol Inside: Wisconsin!

We will go out on Friday night with our local friends in celebration of my 7th annual 29th birthday, and then drag our behinds home in the wee hours to snatch a few hours sleep before loading all the kids, their clothes, their toys, their movies and games, swim gear and the poor Boober's ashes in the family roadster so that we can leave at the heinous hour of 8:00 am in order that Hubby has a chance (a wee, wee chance) that we will make it to Milwaukee in time to go to the Dentist Jam with our friend Chris on Saturday night. It's a long story. Don't ask.

More stories and photos to come. You believe me now, right?

Friday, May 18, 2007

The Big Purge

Q: How's the cleanse going, Mar?

A: Swimmingly. As in swimming right down the toilet.

I'm currently enjoying day six of the great intestinal scourge of '07. My progress has been augmented by what may or may not be the joys of the shigella bacteria which may be helping to cleans all the crevices of my colon. Needless to say, I have become very well acquainted with all the bathrooms within running distance of my desk.

On the brighter side, I'm pretty sure I'm losing weight. I won't weigh myself until the big cleanse is over on Monday night.

A Caution: If you have seen me or my children in the past two weeks, you may want to go ahead and clean your toilets extra well this week. You may be becoming very dear friends with the old porcelain bus in the near future.

Sunday, May 06, 2007


Remember when I told you, just last week, that I would post again soon and tell you all about my crazy dietary plan, and you TOTALLY DIDN'T BELIEVE ME? Well, look who was wrong! Tra la la!

So, it began with an idea, (a reaffirmation, this is not new) that I should quit bitching and whining about how I've developed quite a fat ass and wishing that I could have brownies every day and only work out like once a week and somehow look like my 16 year old self, and I realized that I should like, I dunno, DO SOMETHING about it. And by DO SOMETHING, I mean do several things and do them on a regular basis, as in DAILY. Damn.

I'm just about two weeks into the project "How the Hell Did This Happen to My Butt" plan.

So the things I do regularly are:

1. Cardio. This is the one that I am typically the best at, so I'll list it first. The NEW ME does cardio AT LEAST four times per week and I actually make myself SWEAT for the bulk of it. I've been known to get all geared up and strap on my ipod and then casual saunter about the neighborhood with brief illusory periods of jogging (downhill) to feel like I did more just walk. But in reality, I've been a big fan of the "working out should be fun and never be uncomfortable, much less painful" club and I have heretofore rescinded my membership. Today I PURPOSELY ran three miles even though it really didn't FEEL like much fun until "Sister Christian" came on my ipod and then I ran and hurt and KICKED ASS because that song is so damn awesome. But it still took me over 35 minutes to run three miles, so...I've got quite a way to go.

2. Strength Training. This is the one where I feel like a complete dumbass because I have no idea what I am doing. I work out frequently at the Wellness Center at the school and all these buff young twenty-somethings come in and heave enormous pieces of metal around while glistening prettily and then hook themselves up to space age contraptions with names like "Nauti-glider" and "Cyber-myo-tonalator" and I am certain that if I were to experiment with any such paraphernalia I would like rip off a limb or knock myself unconscious. So, I convinced one such young buff student type to "train" me. Which generally involves my trainer explaining how to do basic activities like bend my arms properly and then stifling the urge to fall on the floor laughing at my expense when I can barely move the contraption BEFORE any weight is put on it. And I still am grunting and sweating (NOT glistening prettily) and barely escaping knocking myself out. So, I am thusly humiliated twice a week at six o'clock in the morning and then limp off to work. What a way to start the day, eh?

3. Classes. Group classes. The only thing more humiliation that having a young buff man watch me be unable to complete a sit up? Having a whole group of people watching me be unable to perform basic activities. For those of you who know me IRL, you probably remember that I am not known for my COORDINATION. For non-family members, I am the child who was sent to the emergency room at least every other year because I was always jumping on rusty nails, and breaking limbs, and falling down wells and the like. Why? Because, to put it delicately, I lack GRACE. As in NONE. But I now voluntarily go twice a week to classes which involve doing dance-like predetermined steps and exercises which reveal my plump and hearty ass in wrap-around mirrors. It is waaaay fun. There are some yoga positions which should be banned for those who weigh over 110 pounds. I'm just saying.

4. Dietary Restrictions. I know this stuff. I know what to eat and what not to eat. I know that saying yes to Starbucks every single day just because "I had a rough day" is not healthy. Especially when I am picking up that Starbucks at 6:30 in the morning on my way to work. Even with skim milk. I know that raiding the kids' bucket of Easter candy is not in my best interest. I know that chips and margaritas and all the yummy ways I prefer to treat myself are not the appropriate way to develop a healthy relationship with food. I know all this and yet...I do not have a good history in this area. So now I am convincing myself daily that FOOD IS NOT A REWARD and that I DO NOT CARE THAT MUCH ABOUT FOOD. Seriously, I say this to myself about 20 times a day. But it is working. I had three tiny pieces of Dove chocolate on Friday and that was the first time in almost two weeks. And I stopped after three pieces!!! And I drank wine instead of margaritas. (It's a small step, but hey, it's something!)

5. The Cleanse. This step will begin sometime this week once my magic potions come in the mail. I will be doing a nine day detox/liver cleanse/metabolism jump-starter-thingy which I am assured will clean every little corpuscle and crook and cranny of my innards and will allow me to experience the grossest poop this side of muconium. But much bigger. Cool, eh? You're REALLY gonna be checking back for that blog post, aren't you? Oh, and also I'll hardly eat anything and will become a waif overnight! (Right.)

I'd love to treat you all to a BEFORE picture now so that you can oooh and ahhh over the AFTER (slated for sometime late summer when I will appear on the cover of Maxim magazine), but I am just not THAT big of a glutton for humiliation. I mean, I know I am the queen of TMI in so many ways but you'll just have to imagine my zaftig proportions and settle for the airbrushed AFTER which I will release publicly. I just don't feel comfortable with the size of my backyard being spread graphically across the internets. Perhaps I'll post a photo of my flaccid and noodle-like arms and shoulders. Would that do it for you freaks out there who just really need to visualize my progress?

In reality, I'm not so huge, which is exactly what I've been telling myself for far too long to excuse my lack of motivation to do this thing. I'm about 30 pounds over my goal weight. A full 40 pounds over my hs/college weight, but I don't know if that is even realistic at this point in my life, so it not currently in the plan. I'm trying to be realistic although ambitious. I've never been really FIT, even though I was once really thin. So, now I'm gonna try something new. I'll keep you all posted. Swearsy.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007


Ahhhh! MAY!

This May brings Popsicle stains, wet swimsuits on the hall floor, a discolored lawn where only the weeds dare grow big and strong, and lovely Georgia red mud tracked everywhere. We've been kicking the kids outside (NO MORE video games until you inhale at least a ten square yards of fresh air! I MEAN it!) and I've had delusions of gardening but I have only managed to pull a few stray weeds and ogle a few garden catalogs. But the ice cream truck (the rotten bastard) is back on his route and the kids have been indulged at least once, so IT's ON!

I have been traveling again. One weekend was actually hosted out of a hotel in Atlanta, so Hubby brought the kids so we could have a "nice family experience" between my work obligations. Oh! And did I mention the part wherein Hubby and I forgot what HAVING KIDS actually means and planned to partake in "nice family experience" and "trapped in a hotel room" simultaneously. Needless to say, this ended badly and with much lost sleep, although the kids did get to go swimming twice.

Quin had photo day at ballet school last week. I left work early in order to prep her for such an auspicious occasion. The written instructions said they were to be dressed in their recital outfit, with slippers, buns and "light makeup". LIGHT MAKEUP? On four-year-olds? In a crappy dance class? I bit the bullet and put lip gloss AND hairspray on Quin. The rest of her class was painted up like they were the opening prima ballerina at the Rockefeller Plaza. But Quin managed to prevail. When it came time for her individual photo session we (photographer and I) were cajoling her to pose and not cry and whine. I asked her to show us how she can point her toes (a favorite accomplishment of the last 12 weeks of extensive dance training). She immediately got with the program: She lay on one side, pointing her top leg high into the air and oriented herself spread eagle toward the camera. I told the photographer not to worry, that she was simply channeling a drunken burlesque ballerina.

I'll post photos soon (ETA: did it!). There are some quite cute ones and I have been remiss. And then maybe I'll tell you about my new training program. That is once I can walk again.