Not your average suburban mom. I’m more your typical, normal, commonplace, everyday, garden-variety suburban mom. With a thesaurus.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

The Trifecta of Oscars. Also *my* trainer feeds me gummy bears. The BootKemp Sessions - August

Not *those* Oscars.
Firstly, thanks for the love about my basement woes. Special thanks goes out to Jessica, who left my favorite comment ever: "You make waterlogged look SEK-SAY!" (In fact, as I was ankle deep in sewage I was all, "Good thing I'm so sek-say.")(I also reminded Brian of this whenever he was tempted to snap at me for nagging him about when we could turn on the fans already.)("Babe, don't be mad. I'm sek-say." Totally convinced him.)

I'll update further about the mess downstairs later. Today is a happy post dedicated to my favorite workout of the month = the BOOTKEMP SESSION. I was scheduled to meet with Kemper Wednesday night at 7:00. Traffic in southeastern Michigan is hit or miss due to the aftermath of the flooding. Some roads are still closed, while others have increased traffic due to re-routing. I wasn't entirely sure how driving to Kemper's house was going to go, but I ended up pretty much sailing through and getting there a few minutes early.

Kemper, however, was coming from work and either got stuck in traffic or was just running late - OHYLANTA - STOP THE BLOGGING PRESSES. I JUST CAUGHT/SMOOSHED A FLY IN MY BARE HAND.  That totally just happened as I was writing this. It is as gross and as rad as it seems. That was some total Karate Kid shiz right there.

So, Kemper was late which turned out to be completely awesome, because I ended up achieving a lifelong goal I didn't even know I had in his absence. Kemper has a dad named Oscar. I'd never met an Oscar in my whole life until I met Kemper's family. Then, because knowing them is like the gift that keeps on giving, I discovered that not only is Kemper's dad named Oscar, but so is his older brother, Kemper's Super Fine Brother Oscar. (Although the family just calls him "Oscar".) BAM! I suddenly knew two Oscars. BUT IT GETS BETTER. Because as I was hanging out with Oscar Sr. while waiting for Kemper, there was a knock at the door, and in walked another man named Oscar.

Just when you think that meeting three separate Oscars in your lifetime is the pinnacle of Things I Never Thought Would Happen I discovered that Kemper's Super Fine Brother Oscar was in the basement waiting for Oscar Sr. and Oscar #3 so they could rehearse for an upcoming gig because: they are all in a band together.

The band
(I'm feeling really impressed with my
internet sleuthing lately. It's
like I possess the ability to operate a
basic search engine
 elite hacking
capability. #stillcantfigureouttexting)
I totally crashed their basement band practice. It was just like high school. It made me feel like I wanted to go get more bad tattoos and piercings and probably find my Van's and baggy jeans because I am still so hardcore. But this time the basement band practice I was watching was comprised of a trifecta of Oscars, and they were playing a Collective Soul cover. #justcheckedoffmybucketlist

(Also in the band is a man named Luis.)(And Kemper's mom Renee who I didn't realize is a bad-A rockstar singer.)(But she wasn't there when I was there.)(So now I have to see them gig so I can get my groupie on with the whole group present.)

When Kemper got home it was a total buzzkill I was super happy to see him because I look forward to training all.month.long. I was especially excited to see him because he promised we could work on my bench press and my form for rear delt raises.

Take a moment and pray blessings
on Kemper because he had enough
compassion to replace the original
seat with an Old Lady Butt padded
seat. Amen.

He started our session off by introducing me to his new baby - the spin bike from hell. After two days of hauling up waterlogged possessions from my basement my quads were fried, so I did my best to warm up without complaining too loudly. (Meaning I tried to use my Inside Voice when I was all, "DUDE. KEMPER. MY QUADS CAN'T DO THIS." I'm pretty sure I smiled sweetly when he adjusted the resistance, so yeah, I'm a darling of a peach to train.)

After warming up my arms with resistance bands it was time to bench. I've been feeling a little better about bench press lately. A huge part of my problem of not progressing like I want with bench is fear when I don't have a spotter. I'm afraid to go heavy because I know I'll get trapped under the bar. Lately I've been doing my bench day with Rachel Who Looks Like Meg Ryan, and she's been spotting me. I've really seen some gains* in the last few weeks. The last time I benched with Rachel, I did 1 set of 5 reps at 75 pounds (1x5@75), 2x5@80, 2x5@85, and 1x3@90. Those 90 pound reps were huge for me.

Don't hate, but I just can't with
the Hodge Twins.
(*Kemper doesn't make fun of me at all when I say things like, "make gains.")(Also, the previous sentence is a LIE.)

I was looking forward to benching with Kemper because it's my weakest lift. Kemper has been talking a lot about the importance of power in my lifts. He really wants me to explode on the lift. So during bench he really pushed me to go for all I was worth. The crazy thing was that those "power" reps with Kemp yelling at me felt heavy but not crazy heavy. I handled the 85 pound sets like nothing. As it always seems to go in Kemper's gym, I ended up doing my last set with what I thought was an impossible weight: 95 pounds. It's those moments of training when I believe someday I could be really strong.

Totally how I look without skin.
After bench we moved on to standing shoulder press. I recently moved to 30# dumbbells when I do these at Lifetime, but have only managed to consistently do 6 reps a set. Kemper got three sets of 8 reps out of me. Hoorah. Next we superset rear delt raises with lateral raises. We spent a decent amount of time on form here, which I'm super thankful for. I've watched Youtube video after Youtube video of rear delt raises, and every one leaves me confused. It was awesome to have Kemper walk me through them, keeping his hand on my actual rear delt so I knew where to squeeze with the raise. I hate feeling like I might be wasting my time at the gym, so I now feel confident I can do these on my own and hit the right part of the muscle.

We finished up with push-ups superset with tricep pushdown. Push-ups have gotten so much easier; I've really seen a vast improvement in the last few months. Kemper had to help me with the last few reps of the pushdown set. I think he really just wanted to be done because he had an extra special cool down planned. And if you thought that cool down included eating gummy bears you would be totally correct.

Probably 17 of the regular size gummy bears have 30
grams of carbs; maybe stick with only 1 or 2 of The
Party Bear for the same macros*.
*Kidding. Kids, don't try that at home.
Kemper discussed really scientific things like the effects of dextrose on glycogen stores verses the effects of fructose on glycogen stores while we noshed. He quoted nutrition facts; 17 gummy bears have 30 grams of dextrose rich carbs that will basically feed your muscles after a heavy workout = GAINZ. We shared a total bro moment (and are decent gummybear-eating partners because I eat the white ones and he eats the reds). (The only downside to him knowing I like the white ones is that when if all the white ones mysteriously disappear he will know who to blame.)(I'm blaming Oscar because there are three of them to sort out, which should give me adequate time to make a get-away.)

Another awesome happening is that this girl got herself a Bootkemp t-shirt to wear proudly at the gym. The Meathead clothing collection has officially begun...

Until next month, Bootkemp. 29 more days and counting.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Up a creek (yep,*that* creek - literally) without a paddle. Also, when it rains it pours.

Y'all - try to contain your excitement
Here is a video to prove how Midwestern I am.
Also, just send me some love. For real. It's crappy here. LITERALLY.
(Sewage jokes, already? Too soon, Kel.)

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Weigh-in Wednesday: The Moment of Truth

Last week I celebrated Weigh-in Wednesday with a lovely four pound weight gain after an impressive three day binge session. I knew I had to get my crap together because Saturday was the initial weigh in for the Lifetime Fitness 90 Day Challenge (which I am participating in once again).

I decided to do the Transformation Challenge instead of the Weight Loss Challenge because I really, really, really want to see my body fat at 19%. When I did the Weight Loss Challenge this spring I went from 37.1% body fat down to 23.5% body fat. (And 168.9 lbs down to 149.) Now that I'm strength training, I'm not entirely interested in dropping body weight. I'm more interested in dropping FAT. I'm finally at the place where I could stay close to the same weight and be mentally okay with it as long as my body fat was dropping. Because a maintained weight + a lower body fat percentage = MUSCLE GAINZ.

Participating in the 90 Day Challenge requires $25 and a cute smile a fifteen minute initial session with a trainer who will weigh you in and then try to sell you everything under the sun. I don't hate on that part too much because I understand it's part of the curse of being a trainer at Lifetime Fitness. (Pros of the job include: the opportunity to hang out with yours truly, which I'm pretty sure we can agree is why the trainers still show up to work.) Since Trainer Corey can't seem to shake me (because Powerlifter Sara is officially my friend and those two are like peas and carrots) I signed up to weigh in with him.

I was nervous. Like, seriously nervous. My weigh in was at 9:30 on Saturday morning. I knew from past experience that trying to mess with your weigh in through dehydration (don't hate, you know you've done it) negatively affects the accuracy of your body fat measurements. So I went in well hydrated (like, please let's hurry this up so I can pee already), prepared to see any sort of number on the scale.

Trainer Corey (who used to work at Merry-Go-Round in high school)(#baller) unveiled the moment of truth for me Saturday morning. Thankfully he also captured the unveiling via the camera on his phone (hence the glare) and emailed it directly to me so I could share it publicly. So, here it is: the unveiling of my current stats:

Let me decode this for you. Basic stats on the top. Let me direct your attention to my current weight of ONE FORTY THREE POINT FIVE. Down three and a half pounds from last week. YES. More of *that* please. Also, check that little box in the lower left corner where it says "Obesity Analysis". See PBF? Percentage Body Fat = 21.6%. My body fat has gone down almost two whole percent since I started Kemper's strength training plan six weeks ago. 

I planned and charted the mess outta my diet between the end of my binge on Sunday morning and my Saturday weigh in. That's six full days of hitting my calories and my macros (mostly). I followed my training plan as written (meaning I didn't add a ton of cardio as "penance" for the preceding week)(and I actually substituted a shorter HIIT rowing workout for a longer steady state run). I will take it and be happy. Following the plan WORKS, y'all.

Linking up for Weigh-in Wednesday with Heather, Erin, and Ash.

Monday, August 4, 2014

Recovering From A Binge In 4 Easy Steps

Picking yourself up after a dive off the deep end slight stumble in your quest for healthy living takes a few purposeful decisions. I've found that the best way to regroup and get right back on plan is to follow these simple steps.


Seems simple enough, right? It's totally not. Because you will still want to eat allllllllll the crap. Why? It's delicious. Crappy food tastes wonderful because fat and sugar are stupid good, and when they are combined it's like happy chemicals explode in your brain. Literally. That literally happens. And since they are in your system (because maybe after your binge party if you were to spontaneously evaporate it would be in the form of Iced Cappuccino) your body will crave that mess until you fully detox. So get ready to suck it up and live out a Basketball Diaries-type withdrawl (pretend you're Leonardo DiCaprio)(but without, you know, the prostitution) and just.stop.eating.crap.

Seriously. STOP.

2. Meal Plan like a mother. A really organized, anal retentive mother. Who likes to eat.

Just because you fell into a vat of chocolate covered Doritos doesn't mean that getting back on track needs to be full of Punishment Food*. (*Can all my Fat Mom ladies out there please acknowledge the existence of Punishment Food? This is the super strict diet you follow after you eat too much to make you feel better about your choices while still allowing you to feel defeated and miserable because it is all bland and tasteless. An example of this is broiled, unseasoned, boneless, skinless chicken breast served with plain, broiled asparagus. There are only two benefits to this meal: 1. You can feel like a martyr eating it because you are suffering for a greater cause (this is a popular benefit if you happen to be a bit Drama Queen-esque)(*looks around innocently at who this might be because it's certainly not yours truly*) and 2. Asparagus pee.

Coming off a binge is the perfect time to fall in love with real, healthy, good food again. I plan out my meals for the week and prep them. I choose meals that I really like; ones that I will look forward to eating. That way I'm not tempted to stop and grab something that may be part of my regular eating plan as a splurge every once and a while (not pointing any fingers, but McDonalds Southwest grilled chicken salad, that one's for you). Coming off a binge, the extra sodium, artificial ingredients, and elevated sugars in those splurge meals are not something you need to have messing with your detox.

Here are some of my meals from last week. Don't get too jealous of my food photography skills, plating ability, or adorable orange toenails that sneaked into the first picture 1970's Corelle dishes.

Breakfast everyday. 2 eggs, 2 egg whites. Trader Joe's sprouted bread (you hush your mouth), 1 Tbs Meijer natural peanut butter (not pictured: tea with sugar free creamer)
365 calories, 12 carbs, 20 fat*, 29 protein
*the fat thing = I eat most of my fat during the day. I also eat a high fat diet. Breakfast usually has about a third to a half of my fat for the day, which is both tasty and hugely satiating.

Lunch option #1 = 2 cups of broccoli coleslaw with 5 oz grilled chicken. (Not pictured - Pure Protein shake)
308 calories, 11 carbs, 6 fat, 55 protein
I season the snot out of that chicken with dried herbs and spices and grill it; the broccoli slaw I just saute with water in a non-stick pan to soften it. (You could totally add oil or salad dressing to dress it up, just adjust the macros.) (Fun Fact for Free = My counter top is Corian and may have been chosen (a.k.a. was chosen solely) because the color is called "Granola". Clearly, there was no other appropriate choice for the kitchen.) (And yes, I chose our wall color for it's name: "Sweet Cream".)(This is why I did not go into interior decorating.)

Lunch option #2 = Parmesan meatballs and 1 cup broccoli.
255 cals, 9 carbs, 13 fat, 23 protein.
I can not say enough about this recipe. AMAZING. I could eat this every day. My macros are slightly different from hers because, well, I entered all the info using my own ingredient brands, and then weighed each meatball, so, yeah, #science.

Dinner = Post Deadlift Feast. 5 oz grilled chicken, 1 serving veggie kabob, 1/2 cup brown rice.
381 cals, 29 carbs, 13 fat, 49 protein
Truth? Normally I'd eat double the amount of rice post workout. Dem carbs. But GNC has a sale on Quest bars this month and this is probably what my dinner looked like if I'd snarfed an entire Cinnamon Roll Quest bar on the ride home from the gym. Quest bars - you complete me.

I loved all of this food. It filled me up, nourished my body, and helped me get back on track. I didn't have to think about what I felt like eating, which, really, is only an opening to dwell on foods I shouldn't have right now, and an entirely unhelpful event for my goals. I just ate what I already had. Done.

3a. Drink all the water. Every drop of it. (Unless you live in Toledo and are under the water advisory.)(Then travel with everyone else in your city up to Michigan and buy our bottled water.)(Especially Absopure water.)(Because they pay our bills, yo it's the best water around.)

Water is seriously the best friend a girl can have, post-binge. It rehydrates after all the salty and processed foods have stripped your body. It flushes you out (pardon the pun). DRINK ALL THE WATER. Added benefit? If you drink enough water you will be too busy going to the bathroom to think about sneaking chocolate chip cookies. (Mostly.)

3b. Sweat it out.

Deadlift bruises in various stages. Lifting
ain't always pretty when you're clumsy.
Also - jammie pants sighting #1
I'm going to be honest here, working out is not usually something I have a problem with. Even when I'm shoving treats in my mouth like Twinkies just got discontinued again I'm still at the gym almost every day. I truly enjoy working out. But if this is you who slacks off in this department, get up and move your tush. You will feel so much better after you sweat a little. (Similarly to post-binge eating, this is not the time for Punishment Exercise. You know these workouts. This is not the time to #killit #beastmode #gohardorgohome if you don't feel like it. This is a time to simply show up. Do something you like to do. I did a deload for the first two days post-binge. Per Kemper's instructions I kept my weights high but my overall volume low. I love HIIT training on the rowing machine. So I did that instead of the steady-state cardio my training plan called for. Why? I enjoy it. Good food and exercise are a gift to my body; the post-binge workouts I choose are like Christmas morning.

4. Order crap from the internet and schedule the delivery for your first few days recovery.

Okay, full disclosure: this was totally a happy coincidence. My internet buys just happened to come last week and thank you, Jesus, because it was such a happy moment to get not one, but two packages in the mail.

The first was a birthday present from Lauren (who actually gave me a TYR gift card a whole month before my June birthday because she was worried that with the birth of her first child my birthday would get lost in the shuffle)(she is available for How To Be An Awesome Best Friend lessons). I finally got around to ordering a new suit and swim cap.

The people at Lifetime Fitness will forever be grateful that I finally have a new bathing suit. I also got a sweet Lycra swim cap because I passionately *hate* (yeah, I went there) regular swim caps.
"Hey, Kel, look at you gettin' all fancy staging that shot on your wood floors."
*puff of hot breath on my fingernails, rubs them on shirt*

Also, powerlifter/Youtuber Chelsea Karabin, my internet best friend* (*probably she has no idea who I am) sent me the t-shirt I ordered and I may have flipped balls when it came I was so excited.

Picture me fangirling to Brian, "BRIAN. CHELSEA KARABIN WROTE MY NAME." Also, jammie pants sighting to your left.

One: this is as real life as it gets. Yep, that's my hair. Yep, that's my breakfast pan still chilling out all filthy on the stove. Over my shoulder? Garbage. #Betterhomesandgardens Two: this is the most comfortable shirt I've ever owned. Three: NSV; it's a unisex small. Whaaa?

So that's my official guide to Recovering From A Binge in 4 Easy Steps. To end this, here is a selfie with my sister who is awesome. Just because.

This is totally not accurate. I'm waaaaaaaay taller than her. Also, waaaaaaaaaay taller is the new way we describe about a quarter of an inch.

Happy Monday!

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

When you *totally* fall off the wagon. Like, way off. Like, fall off the wagon and then get on another wagon headed straight down Gluttony Avenue.

This is the deal.

There are times it's awesome to be a weight loss blogger. When the scale is in your favor, your "after" pictures get accolades, or when people ask for advice and you feel like you have something helpful to share - it's great to be a weight loss blogger.


There are days moments when you fall completely off the wagon and you feel powerless to stop it. In the back of your brain you think, "I'm going to have to blog this crap," because you can't pretend it didn't happen, and you think about allllllll the people that you are accountable to through your little corner of the internet. Instead of feeling inspired you feel crushed by the accountability and guilty that you may be letting someone down.

But here it is: I had a terrible week, and I ate to cope. I ate a lot. And I ate a lot of foods I never eat. Like, once I ate a piece of leftover pizza while dishing out Chinese food because I couldn't wait the thirty seconds it would take to get fried rice in my pie hole. If you are what you eat then this last weekend I was Birthday Cake wrapped in pizza while wearing Lucky Charms and sweating Sweet and Sour sauce. (A.K.A. Everyone's Best Friend.) (Sorry. I know it's not funny, Kemper.)(But I joke around when I'm uncomfortable.)(IT'S A DEFENSE MECHANISM.)

So, how much did I truly eat? I ate a weight gain of four pounds in three days much. It was so bad that at one point Brian, who has never policed my food (even when I've asked), actually took hold of me by both shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said, "KEL. Snap out of this."

I am so disappointed in myself. I was at 143, so close to my Holy Grail of 140. Now I'm hanging out back at 147. This is literally the story of my life.

I hate excuses. An excuse leaves no room for responsibility. An excuse says, "Look at what happened to me," and not, "Look at the choice I made in response to my circumstance." Excuses cut out any opportunity for growth, and excuses foster weakness. They are a way to say, "Don't worry, you poor thing. It's not your fault. Anyone would have reacted that way."

That's a big fat lie. I am not powerless over my thoughts. I am not held prisoner by my emotions. And *I* am the boss of how I react to difficult situations. Huzzah.

I do believe in reasons. I want to know the reasons behind the choices I make. Knowing these reasons teaches me, and helps to prepare me for handling situations, should they reoccur. And they always do.

So, Reasons I ATEALLTHETHINGS last week:

1. I was discouraged. It can all be boiled down to that. I had some really crappy workouts last week. I felt weak, I felt tired, I felt fat, and I felt like I was sick and tired of working my tush off just to be "normal". (Can I get an Amen from all my FAT MOM sisters out there?!) I don't want to look like Barbie. I don't want to be a figure competitor. I just freaking want to *not* look fluffy. Why do I have to work so hard to accomplish this? (*the world's smallest violin is playing in the background*)

I came home from Wednesday's awful workout to indulge in the worst timed cheat meal in the history of the world. I cheat meal every Wednesday night. In hindsight following the plan was not the best decision this time. Next time I'm discouraged I will reschedule cheat meal. I already know cheat meals for me are a really sensitive thing. The occasional indulgence helps keep me on track, but they also have the potential to usher in a tsunami of binge eating, which is exactly what happened this time. My cheat meal turned into a three day nosh fest.

Then a friend's mom died very unexpectedly Thursday morning. She was only 49. Instead of being all, "Wow, I should look at life as a gift and live it to the fullest," I was like, "What's the freaking point of going to all this trouble to track my macros/deny myself pizza/work at the gym? At the end of the day I'm still fat and I could die at any moment." I didn't feel out of control. I felt defiant. I felt like no matter what I do I'm never there. There seems to be this mythical land where I am no longer the Fat Mom, and I work my heart out and it shows on both the scale and my body. I get momentary glimpses of there in my daily life, and normally those glimpses give me the hope I need to persevere. But feeling so discouraged made me want to RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE. It's like my brain decided to show my body who was boss by eating my rapidly gaining weight in Combos. Because logic.

"Kel, THEHECK is this?"
That, my friends, is a vegan vanilla LEGO cake with
vegan soy buttercream frosting. And it's purple,
per the birthday girl's request. This is what happens
when you try to get fancy because vegan cake
crumbles, my kids are allergic to fondant, and vegan
buttercream refuses to set.
2. Baking. One of my kiddos had her birthday party on Saturday. Since she is one of my sweet "food allergy" kids, I had to bake her cake from scratch. Then I had to make her frosting from scratch. Then I had to decorate her cake. (Which, I'm not going to lie, was a spectacular Pinterest fail.) Then I had to cut and serve cake and ice cream to 15 people. That's a lot of opportunity for bites, licks, and nibbles. (Or, giant slices of cake eaten when self-control finally reaches it's threshold after you've touched cake and ice cream fifteen times.) Next time I'll chew gum while I'm decorating and ask Brian to cut and serve.

3. I was physically in need of some rest and recovery. I needed to pay attention to my body and take some notes from Wednesday's workout. Eventually I did. I took two full rest days (Thursday and Friday) and went light on Saturday. I ended up squatting my 5x5 program, but only did 135 pounds. I lightened my leg press, hamstring curls, and lunges each to about 75%. I messaged Kemper about deloading, and he told me what I needed to do, which was not actually lighten my weight, but decrease my volume.

I actually wrote Kemper a joke about eating a ton of simple carbs being a part of a proper deload and he wrote back "Haha, I don't think so." I sat and looked at his response for five minutes wondering how I could communicate that I was serious and falling the heck apart. But at the end of the day Kemper is not my babysitter. He's not my AA sponsor. I am a grown-@ss woman and cannot cry to my trainer when I'm in a spiral. I can't expect him to drop his life to hold my hand and tell me not to eat crap food. (Although, now that I think of it, gyms really need emergency training sessions and/or hotlines for people in this situation. #milliondollarideaoftheday)(Kemper, you can have that one for BootKemp for free.)(You're welcome.)(Lollipop gift.)

I know - because I've read my share of weight loss blogs - that this is a common post to read, but it's not one I've ever had to write. It is scary, embarrassing, and shameful. And it's not okay. I know what I want. I know my goals. I know the path to get there. I am worth the time, effort, and hardship it will take to get there. It's not fair that I have to work so hard for something that comes naturally to other people, but that's life. Everyone struggles with something. This is my thing.

I feel like I need to announce, "My name is Kelly and I'm three days back on track," or something. Getting out of bed at 5:30 on Sunday morning to go do abs and HIIT was sooooooooo hard. But I did it, and everything else seems to be following suit. On Sunday I planned and prepped my food, and for three days now I've followed/enjoyed the plan. (*Check my new Pinterest board "dem macros doe" for the most amazing Parmesan Meatballs ever.*) Monday's bench day was awesome; I felt really good so I did my normal training plan, and even did 3x6 at 30# per dumbbell for shoulder press. I dropped in on a yoga class on Tuesday. I feel like I'm me again. It's still hard, but I think it always will be.

I survived this one, friends.

Thanks for the accountability, Internet.

Linking up today for Weigh-in Wednesday with Heather, Ash, and Erin.

Monday, July 28, 2014

That time I got put in Time Out at the gym

Saturday is my squat day. I mentally prepare for this, like, at least a day in advance. I daydream about the barbell on my shoulders, the weights I'm going to crush, and mentally rehearse the feeling of pushing up from a squat. What can I say? I'm a giant nerd I love to squat.

Last Saturday I slept in a little, drank some coffee, and headed to the gym. "SQUAT DAY," I may have been singing in my head. (Also, picture me twirling and doing heel kicks, because in my head I have both coordination and agility.) I felt so good as I walked up the stairs at Lifetime. Really good, I noticed as I was warming up with some foam rolling. In fact, as I prepared to find a squat rack I started to wonder about why I felt so good; I wanted to pinpoint the reason so I could repeat it in the future. My preworkout coffee was the same. Maybe the extra sleep? But man, I felt like I could FLY. Would simply having extra sleep have that effect? If only they could bottle that up and sell it in pill form ... ohmylanta.

I suddenly knew why I felt so good. It must have been the early morning muscle relaxer I took for my neck. The same muscle relaxer that would probably completely ruin my squat plans for the day. Maybe I was just being a drama queen; I could squat on muscle relaxers, right?

Powerlifter Sara was vehemently opposed to that plan. And unfortunately so was her trainer, who had the authority to ban me from squatting for the day. It was like I got put in time out but as a grown up. I straight up stomped my foot and probably announced I was having an internal tantrum. Trainer Corey did not care. I grudgingly substituted Sunday's Ab and HIIT workout for Squat Day and sucker-punched my bad attitude in the throat because First World Problems, anyone? (Also? My workout was AMAZING. Muscle Relaxers as Pre-Workouts 4 Lyfe (except on heavy lifting days)(which are actually the only days I take a pre-workout)(because Kemper tells me just to drink coffee)(but I already bought Cellucor C4 and that mess is expensive so Imma use it up)(but daaaaang, did I feel good doing Battle Ropes a tiny bit relaxed.)

(I came home from the gym and wrote a hilarious* (*this is subjective) post about how I'm an accidental druggie. I was all set to post it last Monday. But then I read Jennifer Weiner's book We All Fall Down and it is about a suburban mom who gets addicted to pills and it all hit too close to home and ruined the joke for me. So I trashed that post and now have this drivel up a week late. Thanks, *Addiction*. You've ruined it for everyone.)

The moral of the story is: Never let a trainer overhear you ask about muscle relaxers and heavy lifting. Also, "You're not the the boss of me," actually holds no persuasive power at Lifetime Fitness. You'll thank me for both of those tidbits one day. Probably.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Fat Mom Brain

Did someone say, "RIVER OF CHOCOLATE?"
There are moments as a mother when you will completely lose your shizz past any level you ever thought possible. Like, kick a hole in the wall/throw gracefully toss a frying pan to the floor/screaming banshee lose your shizz. In those moments you will want nothing more than to walk away and pretend these little spawn of Satan are not yours, you have no responsibility towards them, and you are free to live in a bubble where, if someone is rude to you, or throws something at you, or ignores your instructions for the millionth time, or hits/bites/pinches his sister again, you have the freedom to just walk away without a care. Permanently.

But you can't. It's irresponsible at best and illegal at worst.

I'm sure a holier person, a Godlier person, a more grounded or centered or patient person would handle these moments better than I do. Maybe they excuse themselves from the room to "regroup" or grit their teeth and pray, "Jesus, take the wheel," as they handle the situation du jour.

But what really happens in those moments, if you are a Fat Mom (which is more of a mindset and less of a physical description, I'm learning), is that you will want to self-soothe with spoonfuls of the frosting in the refrigerator leftover from a recent birthday cake, or fistfuls of the Doritos allowed in the house because they normally don't tempt you, or entire cases of the 100-calorie snack packs you buy the kiddos as treats. (Fudge-striped miniature Keebler cookies? Why, don't mind if I do. Yes, I want all eight packs, thankyouverymuch.)

You will just want to take a fleeting moment and eat whatever you want, macros/calories be damned. Your mind will disengage from the chaos of whatever familial storm is raging, and you will take a mental tour through the pantry to see what you can cram in your mouth because you need to feel better right now.

Welcome to the Fat Mom's head.

In those moments you have a choice. A choice about what to feed. Do you choose to feed your emotions? They are quite demanding. They are loud. They are immediate. They are seemingly inescapable. They are also temporary. Or, do you choose to feed your body? Do you feed your goals? Do you choose to do the harder thing and suck it up, Buttercup, and don't settle for the cheap fix?

Today I compromised. I may have Augustus Gloop-ed the heck out of some junk food in my head, but I did not inhale a quart of ice cream in real life. I may have gone to McDonalds on a rest day and ordered a sugar free vanilla iced coffee, but I did not eat a Big Mac with fries. And today, I'm calling that compromise a Fat Mom Brain victory.

Now, if only I could stop screaming like a banshee.


Baby steps.
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