It Might Be Time To Break Out the Boxed Wine After All!

Do I REALLY have to admit that I might have actually met someone of quality on one of those horrible dating sites that I only stay on for blog fodder?  OK, fine.  I admit it.  It has taken over a year for this to actually come to fruition mind you, but apparently some things might be worth the wait.

So almost a year ago, I got a message from a guy and I humored him for a bit.  He came of waaaaaaaay to aggressive though. I phased him out in typical Kathy fashion and went about my merry little way.  Then I broke two toes and pulled out of the dating scene all together.  Once I was healed, off crutches and out of the insanely ugly boot - I tried emailing him only to find out his account had been disabled.  Whatevs, there were plenty of other guys out there to toy with and feed my ego. 

I would say around November maybe, he managed to find me again.  I did EVERYTHING in my power to push him away.  My ego was still bruised from Code Name Hot Chocolate and while of course I relished the attention, I just wasn't feeling it.  He finally wore me down.  He was a persistent bugger - I will give him that.  So I agreed to meet him.  Had the whole outfit planned and he cancelled on me.  His pipes busted in his house or something.  The second time I cancelled and the third time he cancelled.   Around New Years, I flipped out on him and told him I was moving to Colorado and he told me he was transferring to Miami.  We called the whole thing off and then decided maybe we could meet and just be friends.

That is where he turned into a total dickhead jerk monkey.  It was his turn to push me away and it worked.  He cancelled on me a THIRD time and three strikes and you are out baby.  I deleted him.  I may have given him one last chance, but in the end I just gave up.

Two weeks ago while chastising the ex about some hot 27 year old I was going to go find and go out with, he asked if I meant the "coast guard guy"?  I was like "UH, HELL NO!  he isn't 27 and he is Miami - that ship way sailed" I put him out of my head. Well in Beetlejuice fashion (say his name to many times and he appears), out of nowhere - I get an email from him.  Thank you ex for conjuring spirits of the past.  Sheesh.  I humored him because I was in a good mood and curious as why exactly he was darkening my email inbox.

We chatted a bit and I told him he had some 'splaining to do.  He agreed and suggested he tell me in person.  He set a date and I rolled my eyes and was already mentally prepared to move on.  I told him that I was happy where I am right now, don't really need a guy in my life at the moment - so if he was serious - then game on.  If not and he intended on flaking - don't bother.  I don't need my time or energy wasted.  He swore up and down he wouldn't. Maybe I took a little stock in it, because I did go out and buy a new outfit including shoes - then again - do I really NEED an excuse to buy a coral dress.  No not really!

The days ticked off and Tuesday rolls around.  He asked what I wanted to do, and I told him - this was his gig - he got to figure it out.  I also warned him again that there was to be no flaking unless there was a death in the immediate family - but even then he better send me a picture of the corpse.  I don't care if Grandma's tongue is hanging outside her mouth - I WANT PROOF. We decided on a Mexican restaurant across from my office. (This led to a crazy text to my personal trainer to ask how exactly do I eat there and NOT blow my calorie count for the day?)

Wednesday.  I'm wearing my coral dress and my oh so 80's cinch belt and brought my 4" wedgies.  I waited and waited and waited for him to cancel so I could be all self righteous and he didn't.  At 4:30 he texted me to tell me he was on his way.  HOLY CRAP - I REALLY HAVE TO GO THROUGH WITH THIS?  Panic sets in.  I can't do this.  I SUCK at dates.  I am not witty or charming in person.  Again - see the Code Name Hot Chocolate link.  There was no turning back though.  My amazing friend Red Devil gave me a much needed pep talk and I cursed Man Whore for not giving me the guys perspective on how amazing I looked and headed to the restaurant.  I mean it's been a year - I got this - I think.

I had the BEST time.  He was cute, funny and engaging.  He is a Jeff Gordon fan though and that should TECHNICALLY be a deal breaker.  At least he didn't tell me he was Tom Brady or a Raiders fan because that would have killed it.  We had a nice light dinner, walked around the fountains by my office because they shot a scene from Demolition Man there and he drove me home. We hung out for a bit, kissed a couple of times and called it a night.  The truly amazing thing was that he does ACTUALLY want to see me again!  Yes ladies and gentlemen - you did read that correctly.  I finally got DATE NUMBER TWO.  We are going to hang out this weekend if the schedules align or next week for sure. 

So break out the boxed wine y'all (I mean this isn't exactly worthy of your vintage Cabernet yet) and celebrate with me!  I am a happy princess at the moment!

I am a Warrior Princess!

NSo, most of you probably read my last post and said  "Psssh - whatevs - we KNOW you have no follow through!"  I mean it has been well document throughout this blog.

The funny thing about change is that is never going to happen until you are ready to let it happen.  Until you are actually in a frame of mind where this is it...it's now or never.    When Eminem's Lose Yourself starts playing in the back of your head and you know - YOU KNOW that it is time.

And it was.

So I bravely put on my jog bra, yoga capris, dryfit tshirt and my grabbed my water and headed to the gym.  I got all signed in and realized I had NO idea what I was doing.  The girl at the desk told me to just go for it - the machine were pretty self explanatory.  So I dabble for about 30 minutes got bored and went home.  30 later I get a call from someone at the gym saying she had heard I was lost and when could I come in to meet with her?  I explained that I didn't have the money for personal training just yet and she said that wasn't what she asked.  So I set up an appointment to meet with her that Saturday.  I went back one more time for a half an hour thinking I was doing good. 

Then I met Rachel.  I was ready to turn around and run for home.  She is this tiny, pretty,  blonde,  flawless thing.  I mean it too - she is training for her first fitness competition.  She weighed me (UGH really 158.5?) and ran me through drills to see what my level was (I was on level YOU SUCK - my words not hers - she is too nice to say such things) and it was determined that 120 pounds would be my goal at a pound a half dropped a week.  I loved her by the end of our meeting.  I plopped down my money to set her as my personal trainer and began my journey.

My first session got rescheduled twice, so it wasn't until the following Saturday did I actually get to meet with her for real training.  She scared me by sending me into the weight room for strength training. It is a scary room filled with hot guys and there I was all sweaty and pudgy and far from cute.  An hour later, my upper half was sufficiently on it's way to sore and I was given homework.  400 calories burned of cardio and I was given a schedule to follow.  400 calories - pshh - easy peasy charley.

But boy was I wrong!

Sunday, My ex rudely (ok, he was rather pleasant about it) awakened me on the couch at 5:30 in the morning and told me that I should get up and get my workout over with.  Sure it was Mother's Day and I wanted to sleep in, but I decided to drag myself out of bed and get it over with,  I got there and jumped my sleepy butt on the treadmill.  Worked my way up to an incline of 8 and a 4.1 MPH pace.  40 minutes later, I was exhausted, sweaty and still hadn't reached it.  I decided to knock the rest off on the stationary bike.  Mistake.  My legs were like jello and it was really hard to pedal those last 50.  I did though.  I did. Then I did another 400 calories cardio burn Monday even though my gluts hurt like the dickens (who knew you had butt muscles?  Apparently everyone but me!).  Tuesday I got a small break from the cardio because it was back for more of Rachel killing my upper half with strength training. Wednesday was another 400 calorie burn,  By the time I hit yesterday - I thought my hamstrings were going to break.  Never had my legs hurt that much.  I actually had to break down and buy some Bengay to put on the muscles so I could sleep.  Thankfully it was a rest day.  I thought about going in for Zumba, but I was too sore.  Instead, I stayed in with Bradley Cooper (God I love Redbox).

Yeah yeah yeah you say.  So it's only been two weeks you say.  Well you are correct, but I am seeing results.  The first training session we weighed me and I had lost a 1.5 pounds. This is what I am supposed to be losing per week. I have visible definition in my calves and my thighs are becoming firmer.  My stomach has gone down enough that if I look down - I see my toes instead of my stomach.  The only downside is the girls are getting smaller too. I will miss them the most!

So I really think this is something I will keep up.  I am determined.  I am holding myself accountable on Facebook.  By December - we should see a whole new me and who knows - maybe I will finally have a date for New Years.  The possibilities are endless because I am a WARRIOR PRINCESS!

I Just Hope I Keep the Donkey Booty...

I remember the conversation plain as day which is amazing since most days I barely remember my name.  I was at the bar with my mom and we were laughing with the female bartender who said something to the effect of "Chocolate - I laugh in your face.  I can eat whatever I want!"  I agreed with her and my mom said "just you wait until your metabolism slows down - then we'll see who is laughing!"   Being all of probably twenty four at the time - I probably rolled my eyes at her, slammed my drink and went traipsing off to the bathroom to see what I could hit on in my path.  I was tiny, cute and didn't have a weight care in the world.  I ate what I wanted and never thought twice.

I HATE when anybody is right - but especially my mom!

I had a period around thirty five where I ballooned out.  Everybody asked if I was pregnant and had to explain - No I'm just fat - thanks for reminding me.  Little did I know at the time I was pregnant and my little bundle of joy was the reason my boobs became something to marvel at even though the rest of me wasn't so much so.  Once I had Gman and started breast feeding, the weight melted off and for the first time ever I was a size 6 AND a C cup. I have been a size 6 before, but I had a tiny size A cup and padded bras so thick they could stop a bullet to make objects bigger than they appear. Yes, I would stare at my reflection the windows as I walked beccause I jiggled for the first time ever.

Then it happened.  Acute pains in my side.  I felt like a band was squeezing the life out of me.  I couldn't breathe.  I was running around the house looking like Melissa Gilbert portraying a young Helen Keller.  Not a politically correct description, but it is the closest visual I can create with words.  A trip to the ER and an ultrasound confirmed I had serious gall stones and that bad boy needed to come out.  A week later I was minus a supposedly useless organ and it was all down here from there.  The weight slowly crept back, but there was nothing I could do to lose it.  They say the gall bladder is kind of useless, but apparently my metabolism was linked to it. I allowed myself to fall into the vicious cycle of I'm depressed  because I am gaining weight, so I'll eat which will put on more weight which will depress me & rinse and repeat. So now at the tender age of 42, I am the not the heaviest I have ever been, but teetering on the brink of heading back there.

So in name of wholesale changes - one part at a time - I did the unthinkable.  I joined a gym and yes I did hear the collective gasp.  I realize that as I get older, the weight isn't going to come off any easier.  I realize that even though I do live in the most skewed society when it comes to looks; I may be stuck here for awhile and a size 12 is considered huge here.  I don't want to rock the fat chick tankini this year.  I'm tired of the really cute dresses not being so cute in an extra large.  I'm tired of not even getting a second glance when I go out with the girls.  I need to justify the $70 I just spent on new running shoes and the fact that they are pink and grey isn't justification enough.  I don't think I lost my mojo - I think it got swallowed by weight. 

So I have grand plans for my workout.  Zumba classes for cardio and strength training on off days.  I shall try to get my butt out of bed early to hit the gym since the evening doesn't always work when I am hijacked by Gman.  If the weight comes off, my running will be easier too and I won't feel so damn winded after two minutes.  My only fear is losing my boobs which unfortunately go down with the weight and my butt.  While I am not fond of the stomach roundness - I do enjoy my womanly curves!

I could also have possibly taken stalking to a new high or low depending on your perspective.  My housemate goes to the same gym and has offered to help me work out to reach my Union Jack bikini goal (although he doesn't know about the bikini goal).  I mean it is the name of friendship he offered and my asking for his help since he is a gym rat who works out twice a day had nothing to do with the fact that I MAY still have a SMALL thing for him. I need to get fit. We are just friends and the gym deal was too good to pass up since I still have income tax money left over.

You believe me right? 

Right?

Well no matter what - we'll see who has the last laugh when I reach my starting goal of size 7/8.