What the hell am I going to have for lunch today?

First of all, thanks a lot to everyone who commented below; I really appreciate your taking the time to read that long post and respond to me. Obviously it's an experience that I hold very close to me in terms of defining who I am and how I operate in the world. It's something I'm very proud of but certainly also something I wish didn't have to happen the way it did. No regrets, of course, but I would be lying if I didn't say that it gives me pause to remember that time and reflect on the pain.

Kevin and I sat at our kitchen table on the night of my WW anniversary and talked more in depth about pieces of the story from that summer that he didn't know or had forgotten. And I realized during that chat that I cannot actually connect to that pain anymore, the way I felt it as it was happening. I think that my body, weight difference aside, was actually physiologically different at the time. Because the pain from the depression and anxiety, not just the psychological but the spirtitual and physical pain, is something I really don't have access to anymore.

You know how sometimes, if you're quiet and close your eyes and focus, you can remember what it *felt* like to be fatter? Or you can remember what it felt like when you had an injury or you were recovering from a surgery or you were in a place of great emotional pain? And you can almost access that place for a split second even though you're better now? It's like I can't do that with this anymore. It's almost like my cells have changed. I can't feel what I felt then, even for a split second. There's something lovely about that of course because I wouldn't want to feel it again. It was a dark place. But there is also, oddly, something to mourn there for me. Because this did happen to me, through me, because of me.

So I guess that's why I needed to write about it and talk about it. I wanted to remind myself exactly what happened, that it did happen, that it was real. Not just for who I am today, but for the sad, lonely girl I was then. I want to remember for her. To do her the justice and the honor of living openly now about how I got through what I did then.

Blah blah, right? Enough of all that! Gah! ;)

So. I'm well, thanks. All's well. The anniversary was a really good day. I don't mean to dramatize it, but it was a meaningful day for me.

I woke up and finished my blog entry while the darling BF made me a lovely breakfast which I consumed, digested, and then worked off with a nice long run. At first he was going to join me on the run but then he said, "I think I'll let you go alone." Slacker. ;) Nah, I know he wanted me to have the experience of running by myself on that day. And I'm glad he did. It was a really good, albeit hard run. It was drizzling the whole time, which was kinda refreshing. And I ran my ASS off - once around the park, completing it about 4 minutes faster than I was doing over the summer. Awesome.

At one point, going down a subtle hill, I felt gravity take over and I just let my legs GO. I was running so fucking fast I thought my hips were going to pop out of their sockets, but I couldn't stop. It was like another force was moving me forward. It felt incredible. The wind in my face, my muscles burning, my heart pounding, I threw my head back and I couldn't help but grin. I probably looked like a huge huge dork. But who cares. It was great. Then later on I sprinted the last 90 seconds of the run, pretending I was running some race and had like a personal record to beat or something. That about did me in, that sprint. I was winded to the point of yikes. But it felt amazing about 3 minutes later. I wanted to go back and do it again.

I was tight on time so I had to skip the yoga class. :( Too bad. I did get to take a quick shower, smooch the boy for a minute, and then get my act together to get into the city for my rehearsal. I knew I was going to be walking right by a massage place that will do anywhere from 10 minutes to 90 minutes. So I hopped on the subway and hopped off right near the place and beelined straight up there for the most incredibly to-die-for 20 minute massage everrrrr. This woman worked it OUT. She worked fast, hard, and thoroughly and I was in heaven. I think I almost cried. It was so good. I'm definitely going back.

The rest of the day was busy. Rehearsal for a good four hours, a quick dinner, a good performance of our show, and then home to go to bed because the following morning was to be an early one.

The next day, Sunday, a bunch of us from HST and other friends of ours were working this event in Union Square called Pilates for Pink. It was basically a big pilates event sponsored by Shape magazine to raise money for breast cancer research. Our friend, Sonia, works for the company that was staffing and running the event and she contracted us to work for the day. Yes, we got paid. We had to be there at 730am and we had to work until 5pm. The day was okay - there were pilates classes all day long in a huge tent. My job was to check people in for their class and hand out the free tote bags they got as part of their donation. Let me just tell you something I re-discovered on Sunday - people get CRAZY for free shit.

It was a long RAINY day and we got plenty wet but we also got some free stuff out of the deal (fun!) and I met Mari Windsor of Windsor Pilates! So that was cool. (She was kind of a bitch! Eek!) And it was also really neat to see all these women of different shapes and sizes coming out to a.) do pilates and get their workout on and b.) support breast cancer research.

When I got home that evening, I was a zombie. I showered the yucky rainy mess off me, got into PJ's at 630pm and couched it out for the rest of the night. Kev was adorable, doting on me and keeping me company all night. We ordered japanese food, watched tv, watched the season premiere of Dexter (I was totally disappointed with the episode) and I got into bed at 10:30pm to read a magazine. I was asleep by 11:15. Got a great night's sleep.

Last night, I took a yoga class - I had the night off from improv practice, which is what I'm usually doing on Mondays. The class, which was at my gym, was a good one! Finally! It was hard, but not too hard, fast, but not too fast, and she definitely challenged us. I would like to go back to her class some time. She was a good teacher.

I felt, unfortunately, a little clunky and big during this class. I was standing right in front of a mirror and usually that doesn't bother me because you just gotta let it go about that stuff sometimes. But last night I felt like I wasn't able to do the poses I usually do without a problem, like I wasn't as "good" (ugh - that word should never be used to describe how you do your yoga practice) as the other girls, like I was SUCH a newbie. I guess those experiences are exactly why yoga practice is so important - because it's all about letting go of that judgement and being able to just Be with exactly where you are today. I wish I hadn't let it creep into my psyche but it did. I did a quick 15 mins on the elliptical after that, decided I was starving, and headed home.

I made a veggie omelette and toast for dinner and it was yum. Went to bed soon after the boyfriend got home from his rehearsal and from doing lights and sound for someone's show.

The scale was down a teeny bit this morning for weigh-in. Nothing spectacular. My goal for this upcoming week is to get in a bit more cardio. I also want to start varying my workouts a smidge more than I have been. Always good to mix it up. I plan to go at lunch today and get in some circuit type training. I envision some bar/resistance band work with 5 minutes stints on the stairmaster in between sets. Should be fun, if anything.

I LOVE October!! I am excited for this month. It feels more fall-ish every day.

I'm sad about what's happening with the economy and already planning to spend significantly less than usual this holiday season. It might finally be the year to really plan ahead and MAKE all my presents. (Macaroni necklace, anyone?) I also hope to volunteer somewhere this year around the holidays. Which reminds me, I need to write myself a note to look into that.

I'm getting hungry. I'm gonna have to get some lunch soon. I think I'll order in today. :) Special treat.

And, finally, to wrap up the anniversary celebration....

...BEFORE AND AFTER PHOTOS! I meant to post these on Saturday along with the novella below (sorry it's so long, there was a lot to tell), but I didn't get a chance. So here they are. Back to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow!

Before. About 4 months before I started WW.




After. A couple months ago - new headshots.

I'll see if I can get some full-body comparisons up at some point. But you get the basic idea...

My Story So Far

Today, September 27, 2008, it has been 6 years since I started losing weight.

Six years ago, in September of 2002, at 21 years old, my life looked very little like it does today. Some things were the same - I was a funny girl, who could always make a room full of people crack up. I enjoyed myself with friends, choosing some of the smartest, funniest people in New York City as my company. I liked to go out for dinner or stay in and party. I didn’t like the bar scene or the nightclub scene, having spent enough time in both to know so. I was always up for a get together with friends, loved a beautiful day, wrote voraciously, read regularly, liked to see theater and watch movies, and adored tucking myself away in some unique corner of the city with a notebook and pen, to people watch and philosophize.

I was also very lonely, very sad, and very afraid. I weighed 265 pounds, a lot for anyone, but an incredible load for my relatively small frame. I shot up like a weed in the 5th grade, but never grew much more after that. Now, at almost 5’5 and more than 100 pounds overweight, a category that doctors describe as ‘morbidly obese’, I was indeed obese.

I was in therapy at the time. I’d been seeing her twice a week for only a couple of months, so things weren’t exactly getting better yet. I was actively struggling with depression; it had squeezed its choke-hold on me for longer than I consciously knew. I was susceptible to emotional highs and lows throughout each day - not the way a person with bi-polar disorder might experience them - but I still felt either very tragic painful lows, or just okay. I don’t think I ever felt truly, genuinely happy.

I was irresponsible whenever I could get away with it, not good with my money or my time, not good about staying in touch with people or making positive social connections when they presented themselves. I was bitter and fearful and furious and absolutely paralyzed by a running list of worries and a history of devastating mistakes, missteps, and messes.

The summer before this September in 2002 was, without question, the hardest season of my life. I’d already been through a great deal for a young woman, but the summer of 2002 met me without mercy and what was bad became hopeless. I have never felt and will never feel again the kind of panic, terror, grief, and absolute confusion I knew in those months. The dangerous path I’d been traveling down for so long culminated in chaos that summer. But I’d spent years creating the reality that would make it all possible.

When I was 17, I moved to New York to go to college. I’d traveled all over the world as a kid. We weren’t wealthy by any means but my mom was young and energetic and insisted that I experience cultures and worlds outside the narrow ones offered in the suburban Midwest. So I was excited, not nervous, to move to New York. I was leaving behind a huge family of overly-involved aunts, uncles, and grandparents who had all helped to raise me, since my dad wasn’t around. My family didn’t want me to move to New York. Or to study theater. Or to pursue my goals and ambitions. I didn’t care. I did it anyway.

But one’s need to run away from something does not always mean one is better off running toward something else. I arrived in the city, disconnected from my emotional reality the way most 17 year olds are. I was eager to begin my schooling and meet new friends and most eager to be away from my overbearing family. Except that within the first few days of being away at college, I sunk so swiftly into a crippling depression that I did not recognize myself. I didn’t know what was wrong, what hit me, how to help myself – I didn’t even really know that I was depressed. And I didn’t tell anyone.

I would sob for hours for no reason, skip class, avoid homework assignments, stay up late, binge-eat with friends or alone, beg my boyfriend at the time to shower me with attention, shop and spend constantly, sometimes taking hundreds of dollars out of the ATM in a day’s time, only to wake up the next day with nothing in my wallet. And nobody really knew that I was in so much pain. In retrospect, I’m not sure I even knew. But it never got any better.

That first year away at school was The Beginning. And the summer of 2002, the worst summer of my life, was The Beginning of the End.

So I spent those 5 years between age 17 and 22 making mistake after mistake, enduring grief after grief. I gained a ton of weight, lost some weight, gained some, lost some, gained a lot more. In high school I got straight A’s and B’s without trying. In college I failed out of at least 1/3 of my college classes and lied to my mother about my grades. I skipped whole days of class each week; one semester I enrolled for a class that I attended twice and never returned to again except to take the final exam. I would sleep until 5pm some days, stay awake until 9am the following day, and go back to sleep until 6 or 7pm. I ate constantly, eventually started smoking pot daily, drank whenever it was available to me, experimented regularly and joyfully with acid, ecstasy, cocaine, and, one time only, heroin. I was constantly broke, spending more money than I ever had, wracking up small debts here and there, some debts that my mother had to pay off because the bank threatened to freeze her assets, some debts I only finished paying off a few months ago. I screwed over employer after employer, lied about being sick, about family members dying, stole from cash registers, stole from the piggybanks of kids I’d babysit. I ‘completed’ every task to an eighteenth of my ability. At two different points during visits home to Chicago in those years, I suffered through two unrelentingly painful breast reduction surgeries, the second surgery due to complications during the first, because my large breasts were affecting my health. I endured massive irreparable scaring, excruciating pain, and long recovery processes both times. The bad surgery experiences just compounded my misery. I maintained only the friendships I could tolerate and hated almost all other people. I had a total of 9 possible outfits to wear because I was too heavy to wear most of my clothes and so broke that I couldn’t afford to buy new ones. When my mother finally called the school one afternoon junior year and discovered that I’d been lying to her about my grades, she confronted me and said she would not pay for any more schooling. I dropped out of college and moved home to Chicago.

Then, only a few months later, I moved back to New York because I needed to escape from reality again. I fell co-dependently in love with a gay man who knew he was gay but was “in love” with me too. He disrespected and used me as a woman and a friend. I read his private diaries and tried to manipulate his life. I burned bridge after bridge, shocked friend after friend, closed door after door, hurt my family, lost my mother’s trust, and ended up 21 years old, a jobless, penniless, college dropout who’s main goal each day was to smoke weed and not break down into hysterical sobs.

I came from a happy, healthy, well-adjusted family in suburbia. I left for college a bright, eager, albeit chubby young woman. I was kind, thoughtful, generous, interested, curious, and talented. But something inside me melted somewhere along the way and I’d taken to giving up. And no matter who pleaded with me or how worried my mother was, I only ever tried to change my situation in half-assed fits and starts, if at all. I never admitted to anyone that I was in way over my head, didn’t recognize myself anymore and was in a lot of pain.

I wasn’t a bad person. If you’d met me at the time, you wouldn’t think, Who is this horrible girl? I was still funny and fun, smart and curious. Although, Kevin has told me before that when he met me at this point in my life he was intimidated by me; I was brash and abrasive and confrontational. All that aside, I know I didn’t appear to be insane or unwell. I still had a lot of friends who respected my opinion and enjoyed my company. I’m sure I did appear to be really pissed off, unhappy, and uninterested in changing. And I was those things. I was also failing at life.

Which brings us to the fateful summer of 2002. I’d just moved back to New York that June against my family’s wishes. The gay guy and I were sleeping on the floor of a friend’s apartment. We were fighting constantly, both out of work, broke but for the few hundred dollars we’d collected when he cashed in some stock. I spent each day weeping, writing, smoking, “updating my resume,” walking down the street in pain because I was so heavy that it physically hurt me to move, stealing food from local grocery stores, and hoping the gay guy would want to have sex that night - the closeness I felt when we laid down to go to sleep at night, the only closeness in my world. Everything seemed bleak, I didn’t know what to do next, but I knew that things were not good and it couldn’t go on for ever. At the time, I thought I was at my rock bottom. I was dead wrong.

We got into a fight so awful one night, tears, screaming, packing of suitcases, that I punched the gay guy in the mouth. And then he beat me up for a good 45 minutes.

It was a terrible night. I finally fell asleep as the sun came up. I woke up early the next morning and left my friend’s apartment in my car. My friend, S, was my first college roommate, my dearest friend, a girl who I’d supported unconditionally while she’d been crippled with depression herself. She was my confidant, my only ally. She assured me we’d get through this together, that I’d made a mistake in punching him, but that this mess was now going to come to an end, that I would be able to turn my life around, that she would help me, that I would live with her, that he would have to move out of her apartment, that she just needed a day to sort things out. That night I went to stay at another friend’s place.

The next day, S called me and said I should come over for coffee. When I got to her apartment building she was waiting in the lobby - with all my belongings packed in plastic bags and boxes. She told me I was crazy and needed to be in a home, she told me she couldn’t know me anymore, couldn’t help me anymore, didn’t want anything to do with me. She told me that the gay guy, (who, for the record, was as equally depressed and irresponsible as I was and who she’d never met before this summer) would be living at her apartment. Then she called all our mutual friends and told them to watch out for me because I was dangerous.

I found out later that while she talked to me in the lobby, while I took in these words she was saying, looking around the room for some sense that this was a dream or that I was on a hidden camera show, while I tried to decipher the things she was telling me, the gay guy was waiting in the stairwell with a portable phone at the ready in case I tried to hurt her.

Now. These were people I’d known for years, people I knew very very well, people who knew me very very well. They knew I wasn’t in a great place in my personal life but they also knew that these swift actions on their part were completely unnecessary. It was almost as if they were getting off on the drama of it all, on watching someone else hit rock bottom as they hovered above their very own.

You see, I may have been clinically depressed. I may have been lost, confused, fat, misguided and I may have made some questionable choices in my life, choices guided by fear and pain. I may have been used and demeaned, pushed to the absolute brink in an abusive relationship where I did not have a voice, a relationship that was mutually destructive and chaotic. I may have lashed out at him in the only show of physical violence I have ever been compelled to display. But by no means did I deserve to be punished. And by absolutely no means was I crazy.

I was still myself. I was still the kind, loving thoughtful person I’d always been. I was still S’s friend. I was still the girl she’d held two nights before and said “I totally understand. We’re gonna get through this.”

Let me be clear: I do not blame her for wanting to protect her emotional wellness. I do not blame her for needing space from the drama I’d created. I think she was right to want the dysfunction out of her home. But I was not crazy. Nor was I a danger. I was just very lost. And to tell me white lies to get me to come over and collect my things, to sit me down in the very public lobby, while tenants and their families shuffled in and out of the building, picking up take-out dinner or doing their laundry, glancing our way as they did, to use words like “crazy” and “mental home”, to calmly explain to me how my life would be further dismantled and without mercy, and to act without empathy as if I was a danger to anyone was not only humiliating, but also excruciatingly painful. I wanted to cry out “You’re wrong! You have it all wrong!” But I wasn’t going to fight her for the right to be treated like her equal. If she didn’t want to give me that, I wasn’t going to demand it. I remember taking a deep breath, chuckling slightly to myself that it had all come to this, and deciding to let it be. I looked into the eyes of a person who was my best friend hours earlier and now felt like an alien.

I left her there in the lobby. I packed all my things into my car all alone. She did not offer to help me as I made the six or seven trips back and forth between the building and the street. I slammed the trunk shut. I climbed into the car and pulled the door closed. I stared at the dashboard. I cried harder than I had in my whole life.

I was completely alone. The co-dependent relationship that toxically fueled me for years had been dissolved in a matter of hours. The best friendship that I counted on had been removed amidst lies, manipulation, and betrayal. I had made a mistake two nights prior that I knew was bad, but that I thought was forgivable. But I’d made graver mistakes for five years prior from which I could not walk away. I had $12 to my name. I did not have a bank account or a credit card. I did not have a place to live or even a place to sleep. I was over 100 pounds overweight and I didn’t have a college degree. I had just lost the two people I counted on the most and as I sat there and wept they were systematically placing phone calls to our mutual friends to warn them about me.

My mind seemed to be working simultaneously in slow motion and on high-speed overdrive. I could either drive home to Illinois, without enough gas in the car to get there, to face my mother and the dead-end life that I believed awaited me there.

Or I could take my pain, my hurt, their betrayal, my huge huge mess of a pathetic excuse for a life and find a way to move through it and fix it on my own. I could use this excruciating paralysis as a rock bottom. Too much had occurred to be ignored. Too many people were raising their eyebrows at my questionable judgment. Too much had been ruined to do anything other than work to repair it.

Luckily all of our mutual friends who received those phone calls laughed them off. They knew I was in a bad place, but they also knew I wasn’t a threat or a danger. And that I was still myself. They shook their head at what had taken place and agreed to help me out. And after a good week of not eating or sleeping, of weeping and staring off into space, of calling friends to ask if I could sleep on their couches, I was unable to sleep yet again one night. The futon mattress of the hot, sticky, roach infested apartment I was staying in was too lumpy to be comfortable. I sobbed myself to sleep for the last time that night, realizing as I cried that the crying wouldn’t get me very far. And I woke up the following morning and made a list:

Lose weight
Get out of debt
Get a job
Get an apartment
Graduate college

It seemed like a massive undertaking. And after what felt like a lifetime of failed attempts at becoming more stable, a list like this one was almost laughable. But I knew it had to be done or the alternative was true darkness.

I could have gone home to Chicago. When my grandfather heard from my mother what happened he got into his car and tried to drive the 15 hours to collect me. She forced him not to. It was my choice, she said, to stay in New York or go home. I had called her several days after the drama took place, never having been good at telling her when I was hurt or needed help. I tentatively told her the whole story. The messy relationship with the gay guy had spiraled out of control, I did not have a handle on myself, we’d gotten into a fight and I punched him hard in the mouth, S tricked me into picking my things up from her apartment and then told me I was crazy, I was now completely destitute, I had my car and a few possessions, I needed a job and a place to live. When I finished the very long story, I held my breath, waiting for a harsh monologue about how I’d yet again made a series of bad decisions that had let to even worse consequences, how I needed to come home immediately, get a job, and clean this mess up, how I needed to figure out my priorities.

Instead, and I will never forget this, there was a moment of silence and then she said “Jenifer. You’re not crazy. You’re absolutely not crazy and you never have been. You might have a lot to figure out and a ways to go before you feel better, but you’re not crazy. And you most certainly do not need to be in a home. I’m so sorry your friends hurt you like that. You know your grandfather has always said that the number of true friends we will have in our lives are fewer than we would sometimes like to believe, that people you were sure you could trust will betray you and lie to you. That’s what’s happened here and I’m so sorry. You’ve made some big mistakes too, but this will all be okay someday.”

I cried. It was like music to hear her compassion. “You’re not crazy,” she said. And instantly the whole terrible mess had been reduced to a nasty scrap on the playground. She laughed at the roughness my friends displayed and reminded me that they weren’t really my friends after all. She also reminded me that I had a lot of work to do.

She told me she’d support me emotionally however I needed her to, but that she would not give me a single dollar unless it was for therapy and even that she would send directly to the therapist. She urged me to think long and hard about what I wanted and how I intended to get it. I now know that my mother saw this as my rock bottom and as a last opportunity for me to wake up. It was.

I spent the rest of the summer sleeping at friends’ apartments and other places, sometimes sleeping in places I should not have been sleeping. I was, for all intents and purposes, homeless.

A dear friend who was one of the most influential at that time helped me get a part time job at the theater company where I’d studied during college.

I met with someone at my old college to get a referral to a clinic of therapists and, after a series of phone calls and questions, I made an appointment with a woman named Karen. I began seeing her that June, shortly after the night of The Punch.

I landed two more part time jobs and I saved up enough money to be able to rent a room in someone’s apartment. The day I moved in there was one of the best days of my life. I finally had my own space, albeit small and odd, but that didn’t matter. I began to carve out more and more of a life for myself. Having a job, being in therapy, and having a certain place to sleep each night felt like winning the lottery. I was a very far cry from leading the kind of life I someday hoped to have where I would be free from my weight, my depression, where I would have a college degree and a direction, but I had begun. And in contrast to the darkness I’d known earlier that summer, I was in heaven.

A friend who’d always had a weight problem started Weight Watchers that summer. I watched him drop 30 pounds in a blink. That September, I began to think that maybe it was time for me to do something about my weight problem. My therapist had suggested Weight Watchers time and again – she’d say that whenever I was ready, it was an option to consider.

On September 27, 2002, I was finally ready. I weighed in on a Friday afternoon. The scale said 264.4 pounds. If I’d stepped on it a few months earlier it probably would have said something closer to 280. I’d lost weight during my difficult summer. I knew that for sure.

My true journey began that day in September. Within the first month I’d lost 20 pounds. I was beyond thrilled.

Six years have passed since then. And I am incredibly proud of how I’ve spent them. I never gave up my effort to lose weight after that day in September of 2002. I have faltered occasionally, maybe even regularly, and succeeded from time to time as well. But I have continued to work at it. And I’ve lost 100 pounds.

I eventually got better jobs and more opportunities and then I got my very own apartment, instead of just renting a room in someone else’s. I remained in therapy, working constantly not only on the present and how to improve mine, but on the past and what led me to this place. Karen and I worked together for five years. She saved my life.

Also, after a lot of meetings, interviews, research, loan requests, and soul searching, I returned to college about a year after that difficult summer. I had to pay for it all myself and I had to work four jobs to afford it, but I finished my degree. I graduated only two years later than my original graduating class, with a BFA in Acting, having received only A’s and B’s the second time around. I exercised constantly, ate well as often as I could, worked all the time, saved money, paid off my debts, repaired friendships and slowly repaired myself.

I reconciled, in some respect, with the gay guy, who is now someone I’m able to have a distant friendship with, but not someone I’ll ever be able to be close to again. Interestingly, S and I have never reconnected. I’ve seen her from time to time, avoiding her when I do, and we still know some of the same people so I get occasional updates on her life. I’m not sure I’m ready, still, to forgive her for the lack of compassion she showed me that night in the lobby. She knows I’ve lost the weight, turned my life around, and have a full, happy world now and it does not escape me that her mishandling of my situation that night spurred me into action, but it’s hard for me to forget the misleading conversations we’d had in the day prior, the cruel look in her eye that night and the lack of compassion and understanding she exhibited. I think she regrets some of her actions as well and is too fearful to come to me with an apology. I owe her an apology too. But that part of the story has yet to unfold.

Six years ago, my life was very different than it is today. This morning, I woke up my to my loving boyfriend kissing and hugging me. He knew me then and knows me now and respects and admires me for the transformation he’s witnessed. He made me breakfast this morning while I finished writing this, our two adorable cats playing on the living room rug. In a few minutes I’ll go for a run and then take a yoga class. It will be a busy weekend for us, with shows to perform in and rehearsals to attend and friends with whom to spend time. And I’ll go to work on Monday morning at my salaried job, complete with health insurance benefits and paid vacation days, and smile to myself about how little anyone in my current life really knows about what my world looked like six years ago.

Six Years Eve (with stats!)

It's a long one. Snuggle in.

Tomorrow, September 27, 2008, marks the 6th year anniversary of my beginning weight watchers and changing my life forever.

I've been working on a written piece about My Story and what that date means to me. I have a feeling there are a lot of things that happened in my life before that date, things that led me to the decision I made on that date, that nobody knows about. There are certainly details that I've never discussed here before. I'm not ashamed of them by any means, nor am I shy about sharing them with anyone who asks (and has time to hear the whole tale).

But the truth is that 6 years, although a nice healthy chunk of time, is actually not that long at all. I suppose I'm learning as I get older that 6 years is just a drop in the bucket. And sometimes when I realize that it's only been 6 years since my life looked how it did in the days and months before September 27, 2002, I can't believe I'm living the same life. I feel like a completely different person from the person I showed to the world then.

So to continue to have some distance from My Story, some perspective on exactly what went wrong when I was a younger woman, when the wrong "began" and what caused it, is always meaningful. And it's fundamental to my continued progress as a Better Person to keep retelling myself the tale and understanding it from a fresh, more distant perspective. I was a really messed up young woman. And I want to continue to learn from and understand how things got so bad, if only to be able to offer some perspective to other messed up young women, or perhaps to know how to handle my own kid someday if she ends up having a hard time in her life.

I'll post the piece tomorrow, on the actual anniversary.

I'm going to celebrate tomorrow by taking a yoga class - I really want to find a good one. The ones I've been taking at my gym lately (went to one last night) have been sorta sucking. It's hit or miss with the teachers. And I realized, of course it is. It's a fucking gym. If you're a yoga instructor by trade, a gym is probably not the ideal place to be teaching. Perhaps it's like the Applebee's of restaurant management or the Starbucks of fine coffee brewing. So I'm going to pick from one of a couple different yoga-specific studios and treat myself to a really great class tomorrow. I hope to get in some cardio too. And I might, if time allows, get a massage!! Then I'll spend the rest of the day rehearsing for and performing in a sketch comedy show - certainly something I would not have had the opportunity, wherewithal, or full ability to do 6 years ago. The social interaction alone would have been a huge challenge for me at that time. It's not without occasional struggle now - what is? - but I'm beyond capable now. And I'm deserving. So I'm going to really thank myself and my body tomorrow for what we've been through in the last 6 years, for the sincere and rewarding effort we've made to pull ourselves (my body and me - is it getting creepy yet?) out of what could have easily been, without a doubt, the end of the road in the most permanent sense. And it turns out it was not the end. It was the beginning.

Tomorrow is a date that's really important to me - and I think some people might not understand that, at least people who haven't been through a weight loss journey. But it's important to me and I will never - ever - EVER forget waking up the morning of September 27, 2002, knowing I was heading to my very first Weight Watchers weigh-in and meeting ever. Knowing that *this* for some reason was IT. And that things would never be the same. And saying out loud in my bedroom that morning, "September twenty-seventh, two-thousand two. Okay. Here we go."

Meanwhile, some interesting stats:

I try not to do this, like, ever, because who really cares about the numbers (I guess I do). But an anniversary is just that - some numbers. So I pulled out the old records and books and tried to find, to the best of my ability, a way to numerically chart my weight loss progress since 2002. I've never done this before actually - looked at the numbers year by year in this way. It's pretty interesting, I'm ridiculously proud of it, and I hope it will offer support to people who feel like their efforts have weakened as they've moved through this journey.


YEAR ONE (Sept. 02 - Sept. 03): down -81.2

YEAR TWO (2003-2004): down -23.2

YEAR THREE (2004-2005): down -5.6

YEAR FOUR (2005-2006): up +1.1

YEAR FIVE (2006-2007): up +15.5 (yowch)

YEAR SIX (2007-2008): down -7.2

For a grand total of 100.6 pounds lost.

So, in the first year, I lost the bulk of my weight. Things changed dramatically for me in that year in every way. And in the second year, I lost another significant chunk. At the end of that second year I was closer to my goal than I'd ever been, and thinner than I'd been since high school. It was a blessing and I had a new life.

The third year, although I only lost 5.6 pounds, was a great year. I toned and tightened my body in ways I never dreamt possible. I spent a ton of time at the gym, became a serious runner, completing my first ever 60 minute run. I remember finding myself occasionally disappointed that the weight loss had slowed down even though I still wanted to lose another 10-15 pounds. And then I'd catch myself, laugh at myself, remember how far I'd come, how fantastic I looked, how I would never have DREAMED I'd weigh this little, and I'd tear up. At the gym. :)

Those first three years were filled with a ton of milestones and memorable moments. I remember the first time I fit into a certain outfit in a store dressing room. The sheer look of joy, delight, and amazement on my face was so awesome. I remember catching glimpses of my reflection as I walked by windows and buildings. I'd grin at how 'normal' I looked. I remember a friend telling me that I looked 'normal' which was basically like telling me I looked like Cindy Crawford. I remember finally being able to fit comfortably in an airplane seat or behind the nail-dryers at the manicure salon. I remember slipping into a pair of size 8 jeans and keeling over with happy shock. The list goes on and on.

The following year, the 4th year, was another great year. In the end, I netted a 1 pound gain for the year. But I also got down, at some point early on in that year, to my very lowest. I couldn't maintain it for long - it's about 13 pounds lighter than I am now - but it was sweet victory for a couple days. I turned 25 that year, which was a fantastic birthday. I will never forget how amazing I felt about myself that birthday. Young, confident, thin, well-dressed, a lot of friends, a lot going for me, and attention from men that I hadn't had in a long long time. It was a really good year. I also started crushing on Kevin that year, even though we were only just friends at the time. I was going out a lot. We'd go out with big groups of people, drinking and partying, staying out until all hours. And when you like a guy, you'll stay out late to hang out with him. Especially if you're 25 and you can't really feel that it's 4am (like I can oh-so-totally feel now). It was a very active year in a lot of ways. I came out of the shell I'd been in since - well, maybe forever. And had a blast. I definitely made a ton of mistakes that year and definitely wrote big giant X's over plenty of days in my weight watchers food journal - having too many drinks to remember what I'd eaten, or to care for that matter. But I kept up with the exercise when I could and kept my eye on my food intake and basically maintained my weight. It was a really good year.

And then came the fifth year. A net of 15 pounds gained. I never stopped journaling, weighing myself, working out, or trying to get on the right path. But I definitely relaxed about it all that year. That's the year I fell in luuuve. We got hot and heavy at the beginning of that year and I enjoyed the bliss of a new, great relationship as often as possible. I skipped plenty of workouts in favor of hanging out with my new man, averaging a sorry 1-3 a week instead of my usual 4-6. I ate plenty of crappy food, ordering in or going out whenever my love-bird heart desired it. I don't regret it one bit, but it did mean that when January 1 of this past year rolled around and I stepped on the scale and saw it up a grand total of 20.6 pounds from the lowest I ever saw on the scale (and up 15 pounds from the lowest weight I was ever able to maintain), I knew I had to get my butt back in gear.

Luckily, a full year of a new relationship under your belt means you don't need to have dinner with him at a yummy restaurant three times a week, nor do you need to see him as often as possible - so you can go to the gym instead! So this past January, a few months into my official 6th year on this weight loss journey (and 1 year into my relationship), I got back to business. I re-enrolled in WW online, having stopped going to meetings at the end of 2005 (except for a brief return stint in 2007 that was short lived), and bought a scale, having tossed my old one the year before. I started journaling more stringently, exercising with more focus, and making my weight and health my first priority like it was in the beginning. It didn't "take" right away. I fought it mentally for a while, not wanting to exercise or eat carefully. But practice makes progress and every week it got easier.

Another helpful piece of the puzzle was that Kevin decided to get his own health in check. He started working out and eating well and becoming interested in learning how to connect with his body more. He still eats shitty stuff from time to time (me too!) and doesn't workout quite as often as I insist on working out, but his commitment to keeping his health in mind has made a big difference for both of us. We moved in together in July and I'm more or less in charge of what's in the kitchen. And you can bet it's healthy stuff. (He's so cute. The other day he was standing in front of the pantry staring at the snack options and he heaved a huge sigh and said "UGH. HEALTHY EATING." and resigned himself to a bag of almonds. He loves to pretend to hate it. But he loves it.)

I also started, in this past year, focusing more and more on eating organic, natural, whole foods that occur in nature, rather than processed stuff that's only value is it's low-calorie status. That's made a big difference, if not in my weight, at least in my mindfulness about eating. A fast food addict in another life, I now appreciate and enjoy putting natural foods into my body. I won't eat something if I can't understand what's gone into it and I have found a great sense of pride, joy, and peace in learning to prepare and cook those kinds of food in our home. I've also added yoga into my workout routine, and am back to exercising 5 times a week. I do a mix of cardio (with a focus on running) at least 4 times a week, light strength training when I can fit it in, and yoga or pilates two to three times a week.

I've lost a solid 7.2 pounds since January. And although it's not an enormous amount of weight, I'm beyond proud of my recommitment and success. I have adapted habits in this past year (and of course in the last 6 years) that will serve me on this journey forever. They are habits that mean I will never again gain 15-20 pounds, unless I'm pregnant ;) and that I will always be able to at least maintain my current weight, if not continue to lose more over time. My ultimate goal, if I'm being honest, is to be 20 pounds thinner than I am now. Who knows if I'll ever get there. I believe I will. I certainly won't die trying. But for now I'm more than happy to keep counting my points (I'm honestly not sure if I could stop if I wanted to...a little sick perhaps, but it's replaced my faulty-functioning ability to know how much I should eat), working out 5 times a week because I love it, and checking the scale from time to time to see how I'm doing. Maybe if I get down another 10-15 pounds from now I'll see how I feel and start working to maintain. Who knows!

I work hard each week to avoid overeating. And I'm rarely successful. I eat more points than I should every single week. I haven't eaten within my points in any given week in over two years. I'm pretty sure of that. The amount I eat over my points is sometimes a lot, sometimes not as much. But I work hard on it every single day. I wake up each day and make a concerted effort to make good choices throughout the day, not just low-calorie choices, but high-nutrient, high-quality choices, so that when evening time comes and whatever activity I have going on for that evening rolls around, I can make a good choice and attempt to eat within reason.

I should add that I definitely don't believe you have to be on Weight Watchers to be successful at losing weight. Whatever plan, process, or collection of ideals works for you is what you should use. Weight Watchers worked for me and continues to work for me, but the real key is simply to move more and eat less. However you wanna do that is up to you.

Some days are easier than others. And every once in a while I get pissed off and sick and tired and I pout about how I will never be able to just eat and eat whatever I want without thinking about it. Some days I can't decide what to eat or how to get in enough vegetables or how to get through the day without feeling constantly hungry no matter what the fuck I eat because those days happen sometimes for no good reason. But those are few and far between. And the fact that I can eat how I do - which is with complete enjoyment at almost every meal - and exercise how I do - which is with the goal in mind to enjoy the experience and want to do it again the next day - and go out with friends a splurge from time to time, and eat a big fucking cookie from time to time and eat a donut from time to time and make this process work for me - the fact that I can have all that and still lose 7.2 pounds when I put my mind to it means that I have found my peace on this journey. I will never be cured of having been a fat girl. I will never possess the innate ability to eat the right things at the right times without craving other things and without wishing I could have a cheeseburger and without lamenting how it seems to come so easily for some people. I will never be able to erase the years I spent morbidly obese, beyond uncomfortable at every moment of every day.

I have, however, found my peace with this journey, found my place in the world, and found deep within me the ability to wake up each day and inspire myself to practice wellness again and again.

So.

The last few days have been pretty bizzy. But today! Ahh, today. One of my bosses is gone, and one of the women at my job who regularly makes things crazy and stressful is gone. And neither of them is coming back until next week! Toot toot! This is great news because it's going to - hopefully - be a relaxing couple of days. I have some personal things I want to catch up on and I'm hoping to find some work time (like right now for example) to do that. And I'll also be able to catch up on some back-logged paperworky kind of stuff at work that has been pushed to the wayside lately.

Taking on a new attorney to assist at work (did I mention that this happened?) has been fine, fun at times, but certainly busy. He's a really nice guy and I'm enjoying working for him probably more than I've enjoyed assisting anyone else in my 'career' as an executive assistant. But he's still a new guy at the job, which means he has a lot of questions and calls me into his office to tell me things he doesn't realize I don't need to know or calls me on the phone to talk about something because he's thinking of it in that moment - not realizing that it's an inconvenience for me to drop everything I'm doing to talk about something that's not happening until 6 months from now, etc. etc. It comes with the territory though. And I'm lucky enough to work for a company where everyone's treated pretty equally. It's a good place to work, this firm. The people are basically nice and even though things get pretty hectic sometimes, I have a fair amount of freedom.

I'll never forget the last temp job I had before I was rehired at this job. (Quick recap - started at this law firm job right out of college, then quit to go work at NYU, then got fired from NYU for unintentionally doing something really fucking stupid, then temped for almost exactly a year - which at first seemed like it was going to be a great freeing experience, and was for a while, but ultimately ended up being a low-paying nightmare, then was rehired here.) That last temp job was easily the worst working experience I've had in my whole entire life. I was only there for a couple months, meaning it should be long gone from my consciousness now, but holy cow that place was a version of Hell if ever there was one. It was a construction company. And the executives/owners were crazy people. Yelling and screaming on the REGULAR, like I've never heard civilized people do before except in movies. Calling people names, telling people to fuck off, the turnover rate was so incredibly high you couldn't find someone who'd been there more than a year - most people left after 3 weeks. But that wasn't even what made it intolerable. It was intolerable because of this little bear of a woman who was hired while I was there to assist the main guy - a position that was offered to me but I refused (because it was a 24 hour a day job that included basically letting this guy shit on you daily). They could not keep a person in that position. And one of the three different woman who came in to fill the job, the one who insisted that this man would not get her down, she needed the paycheck and she wasn't going anywhere, was easily the scariest person I've ever worked for. Aside from literally locking me in rooms with her so she could berate me for 45 minutes at a time ("I'm not listening to any more of your dime-store psycho babble," she actually said to me one day. "You're a spoiled brat and you treat me like shit and I see you making eyes at people. You're not going to pull one over on me, young lady," she actually said to me one day.), she also took me into the bathroom with her one day while she VOMITTED UP HER TONGUE SANDWICH (yes) because she had some weird choking problem where she would occasionally eat too fast and then have to vomit. (I think the technical term for it is Eating Too Fast.) She would have me go down to the kosher deli and order her a $14 TONGUE SANDWICH. FOR BREAKFAST. Eat it fast like a little pig and then puke it up, choking and clutching her throat the whole way to the bathroom. She sobbed in front of me regularly. She told people lies about their coworkers, made racist jokes about the Asian woman at the office and the Black woman at the office. She threw things and shoved people and was actually a crazy narcissist - the list goes on and on. So, that's the really long-winded way of saying, whenever I find myself griping to myself about this job and how I wish I didn't work in an office, I try to remember that woman and how incredibly glad I am that I work here now. It's all relative, ya know?

Phew.

In other news, things are good thanks. I'm enjoying this fall weather. I love how it makes me feel when it's all crispy and cool outside and I have to bundle up with sweaters and extra blankets at night. I'm sure I'll feel very differently once it gets actually cold - I'm not a fan of the cold at all, I'm a big wuss about it - but for now, I'm really enjoying the feeling. I'm excited to drive out of the city some weekend soon and spend some time looking at the changing leaves and finding a place where we can pick apples or somethin.

My little cousin Kalan is coming to visit in a couple weeks and I'm really looking forward to having her here. I absolutely love her, she's really pleasant company and she's never been to New York before! So hopefully we'll be able to show her a good time. I already have plenty of ideas about what we'll do that weekend so that she gets a nice mix of touristy stuff and local stuff. And I'm planning a very small dinner on Sunday night so she can meet a couple of my friends. Should be really fun. Kevin likes her a lot too and he's even going to pick her up at the airport! That's something we don't really do in New York, since people just take cabs to and fro the airports, there's no sense in meeting someone there. But she's never been here before and although she's a saavy traveler, he doesn't want her to feel overwhelmed. It was his idea! So sweet of him.

I got in a quick workout on my lunch break yesterday, just 25 minutes of good, hard cardio. I tried to run but my body wasn't having it so I did the elliptical and the stairmaster (that thing is a killer - I love it). I was planning to go to yoga last night but changed my mind at the last minute in favor of a dinner date with the BF. We went to a little thai place in the Flatiron district. It was yummy and lovely and then we walked to our improv shows, which were fun. I was home in bed by midnight, having planned to go out for a drink but deciding at the last minute to go home instead. I had two rice krispie treats after our show because it was someone's birthday and I didn't want to tempt myself with more caloric "opportunities" so going to bed seemed to be the best bet. I've got to get better at that though - going out after the shows. I never go out on Wednesday nights anymore and I really should. It's fun and it's a good chance to catch up with people who I don't get to talk to that often during the week. But I always find myself, after the shows are over at 11pm, exhausted and wanting to make the smart choice of going home to bed rather than staying out late, spending money on drinks and the inevitable cab home. Wah wah wah, right?

ANYWAY, I had plans to go run this morning but that didn't happen. I'm itching for an outdoor run right now. I had such great success on Monday afternoon when I ran, I felt so fast and strong and I know I was running faster than I have in a long time. But I had to cut the run short because I had somewhere to be. So I'm eager to get back out there and try again, without time constraints.

After work tonight, I plan to go home, stopping first in Park Slope at the gym there. There's an 8:30 Hatha yoga class (I haven't taken a formal class in two weeks! gah! - just been doing it on my own. But I miss classes.) that I want to take and if I can get down there by 7:45 or so, I can get in a good 40 minute run - either outside if the weather holds up (100% chance of rain, sooo...) or inside on the treadmill. I really don't want to run on the stupid treadmill today, but I will if I have to. Either way, no matter where or how, I'm running and taking yoga class tonight. Period. I think Kevin might be joining me. We'll seeeee.

We had a last minute invite from our good friends to go to a Mets game tonight. I'd love to go but it's supposed to rain (see above). Alas. It would be fun but I definitely need a good solid workout so I think I'll have to choose that tonight instead.

And I'm hoping the debates are still happening tomorrow night because I have plans to watch them with people! Looking forward to that. Maybe I'll get a couple bottles of wine so we'll feel even more like yelling at the TV. ;)

I'm going to try to get in another quick workout on my lunch break tomorrow. Probably a light lift session and the stairmaster. I did that last week on my lifting day and it felt great.

And then Saturday will definitely be a long cardio session and hopefully another yoga class if I can squeeze it in. I have a show on Saturday night and a long rehearsal leading up to it so that will be a pretty full day.

And Sunday is gonna be a no-workout day because I'm working an event in Union Square that's going to last allll day long. 730am-5pm. Yikes! It's something called Pilates for Pink. I'll write more about it after it happens. But there's absolutely no way I'm working out after being on my feet starting at 730am, which, to me, might as well be 430am. It's EARLY!

So that's that. We're using up our groceries nicely, I'll have to make a run soon for some fill-in-the-blanks type items but otherwise we should be good to go for another week.

My 6 year ww anniversary is on Saturday. Holy cow I can't believe. I'll have some interesting stats to put up later today with regard to that....Until then!

Aack!

Can't believe it's been a week since my last post. Things at work have been steadily busy and the free time I do carve out, either at work or away from work has been filled with different stuff that doesn't include blogging. Too bad because I do really enjoy writing on here when I can. I had a great weekend, highlights include: had an awesome dinner out with friends on Friday, made a huge lunch feast with Kevin on Saturday after a nice long run, took a nice long walk/hike, had brunch with a friend, and baked organic cookies (yum!) on Sunday, and then played hooky from work on Monday as a last minute decision, which I made when the alarm went off at 7:30am. I got a lot done that day: I made a mexican lasagna, we cleaned out bedroom closet together, cleaned the apartment a bit, went for a jog. Exercise has been great, food has been okay, the scale is reacting as usual, budging slightly every week. I don't mind the slow pace at all. Kevin's good, the weather is gorgeous, I am enjoying cooking and yoga and was able to run faster on Monday evening than I have in a long time. Blah blah blah. I'll try to write more later but for now I gotta scoot. Just wanted you to know I'm alive.

the best boyfriend

He is. He definitely is. More on that in a minute...

Yesterday, during my lunch break, I went to the gym and did 15 minutes of running on the 'mill and 15 minutes of stair stepping on the classic stairmaster. Sweating like a little piglet the whole time. It felt good. It was one of those days where I felt like I could run forever but of course only had 30 precious minutes to do anything at all. And I wanted to get some stair time in because it's good to switch it up and I feel like that stairmaster just really kicks my ass. So I split my time in half and did it that way. Oh what I would give for two hours in the middle of each day for exercising and stretching. And a long meal? And a nap? SIESTA!

Anyway, I had some fruit and peanut butter as a snack in the afternoon, and was pretty hungry by the time I was finally walking to rehearsal after work. As I've said a thousand times, on most nights of the week I have some kind of rehearsal or show that keeps me occupied until at least 10pm if not later. And last night was no different. I always have grand plans on these nights - I decide I'm going to get through the activity and THEN go home to enjoy a nice meal from my kitchen. Now, why is it that even now writing that out I realize how ridiculous it sounds to wait until 11pm to eat dinner, but in the moment, I always think I can combat the forces of hunger and just wait it out. Probably because I like to pretend that my life is not so busy and that I get home at a comfortable hour each night. But I don't. And that's just the reality. And it will be the reality for the forseeable future.

But at least once a week I try - and fail - at this dinner-at-home-at-midnight idea.

I called Kevin on my way to rehearsal last night to discuss food, and sort of became a bit of a rag on the phone. And he was like, will you please just go get something to eat now? You can't wait until afterwards, you'll never make it. Thank god he suggested it because if I hadn't gotten that oh-so-delicious slice of hawaiian pizza at the shop next to the rehearsal studio, which appeared like some kind of desert oasis, I would have been one pissy young lady during that practice. The slice was delish and rehearsal was fine, although it ran long which always just makes me so irritable. So by the time I was heading home on the subway, I was trying to combat the grumpies. The woe-is-me's. That's something I really need to work on.

I got home and sweet Kevin, the lovely, had prepared a huge spread of yummy taco fixins! And he was waiting for me to eat it! Besides the standard sour cream, cheese, etc, it was complete with taco-seasoned ground turkey, avocados, cilantro, and other delicious things that I never think to have on hand for taco night. What a lovely treat!!! I wasn't super hungry but the food looked so delicious and it was so comforting and nice to have it lovingly prepared and waiting for me, and I'm an absolute sucker for mexican food at any hour of any day, so I made myself a taco salad with lettuce, ground turkey, chopped tomatos, jalapeno, peppers, some salsa and a dollup of sour cream and pinch of cheese. It was deeeeeeeeeeeeelicious. And even though it was kind of a "second" dinner since I'd already had that pizza slice, I didn't care. I threw a few flex points a it, remembered my sweaty workout earlier in the day, and chowed down. I was completely satisfied, and not stuffed, when it was over.

And as we sat down to eat, Kev said, "I also have a present for you," and handed me an issue of Yoga magazine!!! Awwwww. Boys who pay attention! Win. I thought it was a very sweet gesture since I've been getting so into yoga lately and also since I dragged the poor guy to a class over the weekend that probably made him never want to think the word 'yoga' again, let alone buy a magazine related to the practice. So it was sort of like a peace offering. And he said, "I want you to read it and tell me if you like it. Because I was going to get you a subscription but I wanted to make sure you liked it first. There are probably a lot of yoga magazines out there." What a guy. A thoughtful, useful, right-up-my-alley present for no good reason besides he's the best and he was thinking of me. It made my whole evening - that and the great meal of course. I felt really spoiled. >grin<

The magazine is cool and I think I've actually never opened a yoga magazine before in my life. It's fun to have a new interest. :)

This morning was nice - I woke up right at 8 (thanks to a fat, mean cat who lives in our house and knocks shit off the dressers when he doesn't get food - anyone want a cat? no, really?) and I got some things done with the extra time. I did the dishes and wiped down the kitchen, which hadn't been done for a few meals, and then I made myself breakfast - a couple eggs, some strawberries, a piece of toast and half a glass of milk.

Not sure if I mentioned this yesterday (and I'm too lazy to go look ;) but I usually eat breakfast at my desk at work, which sometimes results in me not knowing what to eat, spending money on breakfast out somewhere if I haven't brought it from home, being distracted while I'm eating, and generally rushing around and being 5 minutes late for work. So I decided yesterday morning to try something I haven't done in seriously ten years - eat at home before I leave! Revolutionary. I had bacon and egg/veggie scramble yesterday and eggs and toast this morning. Delish and a nice way to start the day. So I'm gonna try to keep that up when I can.

I'm having lunch with the BF in a bit - he had a meeting in the city today. Thank god it's soon because eating a good 1.5 hours earlier than I usually do has left me HUNGRY much earlier for lunch, naturally.

Tonight, after work, I'll go to the gym or run outside. I've been taking yoga or pilates on Wednesday nights before my improv show but I think I'm going to skip it tonight in favor of a long cardio session and some lifting/abs. It's perfect running weather today, sunny, crisp, breezy. So maybe I'll take it outside. We'll see. Might have to do the ol' tv-while-treadmilling thang. Anyway, after that, I'll GET SOME DINNER (jen. do it.) and go to my improv show. :)

If I don't do this right now I'm never gonna get to it today.

I had a really nice weekend. I'll do a quick recap.

Friday night was datenight. I was so beyond exhausted when I left work on Friday night. The entire week had just been nonstop. Almost every day had been nonstop from 8am to 12am, no joke. I would get up around 8, leave the house by 9 and not return most nights until midnight. It was a lot.

I met Kevin at a restaurant in Park Slope, which is a neighborhood near our neighborhood, for those of you not familiar with New York. We go to this tex mex place in that 'hood called Santa Fe Grill. And we LOVE it. We hadn't been in a while so we were both excited. And hungry.

I usually love to have their margaritas but I decided I didn't need the calories so I just had a couple sips of his and order a gin and tonic with lime for myself. Significantly less going on in that drink than in a margarita. We had chips, guac, salsa, delicious entrees, and nice conversation. My exhaustion-funk eventually lifted and we had a nice time. It was an otherwise early night because I had to be up early Saturday morning.

Saturday was HST day. We finished writing, rehearsed, tweaked, re-rehearsed, and finalized our show. It was a bit stressful but we work well under pressure so we got it done. We worked from 10am-2pm, took a break until 6pm and basically worked straight up until showtime at 9:30pm. Kevin and I (Kevin does the lights, sound, and narrative intro for our show) went to have lunch and workout during the break. We had a yummy lunch from the Whole Foods prepared foods bar (mostly salad and rice and we split a slice of pizza) and made our way to the gym for a long cardio session and some light lifting.

The show went really well; it was very scary and exciting for us to finally be performing it and was ultimately a lot of fun. But by the end of it, when we were all finished and had our street clothes back on, we were all just zombies. I was sitting in a booth at the bar with Kev, all of our friends milling around, and I said "I'm at zero right now." I could barely even smile or make eye contact with people, I felt so ridiculously depleted from all the different kinds of physical and mental exertion from the day and also from the whole nonstop week. About ten minutes later, Billy, one of my HST teammates who'd been talking to someone on the other side of the bar came up to me and said "Jen, I'm at zero right now." Funny. But true. We were all just drained. I was ready to leave shortly after Kevin and I shared a burger and fries.

Sunday was ahhhh NOTHING for most of the day. Well, sorta. It was so nice not to have anything "work"-related on the agenda. We slept in, which I needed badly, woke up around 11:30, and I decided I didn't want eggs for breakfast. (We eat a lot of eggs and eggwhites in our house.) So I decided to make pancakes from scratch! Obviously pretty simple, but I'd never done it before. I found a very simple, healthy recipe online and they turned out great. I made some plain ones, a walnut one, a couple strawberry and blueberries ones and we chowed down. YUM.

A while later, I got a wildhair and decided I needed to walk to a local yoga studio for their 4pm basic class. Kevin came along and I think he might still regret that he did. It was a tough class. The walk, round trip, was about 45 minutes, which was very nice, and the class, although basic, was intense. This woman was a fantastic instructor. It was a very different vibe, of course, and she was a different kind of teacher than the yoga classes I take through the gym. I loved it. I was sweating BULLETS. I don't think they had any a/c on in there and it was a bazillion degrees outside with humidity like you wouldn't believe (when we left the apartment for the first time that day to set out on our walk to the yoga place we both said "Oh GROSS.") so the sweating was to be expected, but I was also working my ass off. And in a basic class! The teacher was amazing about making sure we were getting the most benefit out of every pose and movement. And boy, were we. Oof! I loved it. I think Kevin would have rather probably been anyplace else in the world. And maybe we bickered about it a little bit when it was over. :) (Read: had a big fight.)

We grabbed something to tide us over on the walk home - an all-natural frozen yogurt for me and a slice of pizza for him. We showered and changed at home and then headed over to our friend Matt's house for what will go down as one of the best meals I've had in a long time. Matt is a vegetarian and he invited us over for dinner because he'd been feeling like "cooking for people." And who am I to turn that down? We brought some wine and arrived to a house that smelled lovely. The menu included: a light citrus beet salad (never had beets before!), unbelievable bruschetta type things with veggie toppings to die for, a white-bean soup that was creamy but not heavy, a spring salad with lemon juice and a hunk of cheese, gnocchi made from scratch with pesto also made from scratch, and for dessert, this unreal warm berry mixture over HaagenDas. So. I died. From joy. And flavor. And it was LOVELY.

We loved sampling all the different foods Matt had prepared, we had lovely conversation, and really enjoyed ourselves. I was stuffed when we left, but mostly with veggies! It was a really nice time. And as if all that wasn't enough! He sent us away with leftovers of the gnocchi and the soup! So awesome. Had the bean soup for lunch just now. Stuffed.

I tend to be a bit of a finicky eater so I decided to just walk into Matt's dinner willing to taste anything he put in front of me, knowing some of it might be stuff I'd never had before and would usually shy away from. And it paid off because it was all so delicious. He is an amazing cook.

I woke up yesterday to a higher number on the scale than I was hoping for, but after a huge meal and a couple glasses of wine the night before, and, if we're being honest here, a large bite of my leftovers from Friday night's datenight once we got home from Matt's, it was to be expected. I tried to eat lightly yesterday and woke up for weigh-in this morning to a nice 1.2 pound loss. Nothing stellar and perhaps not earned because I definitely had some trespasses this week in terms of food, but I'll take it.

Workouts were wonderful again this week: plenty of cardio, two HARD yoga classes, some abs, and a lifting session. Feeling really good about all that right now. I skipped exercise yesterday and I'll go on my lunch break today for just 30 minutes of cardio. I'll probably try that 3 machines workout I did last week - 10 stairmaster, 10 treadmill, 10 elliptical. Variety. Spice of life and all.

I'm going to have to make it to the grocery store soon. I'm planning some veggie lasagna, some chili, and turkey burgers for this week. We'll see!

Tonight is another HST rehearsal and then I'm hoping to make some pizzas with Kev . It will be late 10:30 or so, by the time I get home but those puppies cook up quickly, so it should be fine.

Our apartment is a bit of a mess right now. We've been so busy. But I'm trying not to let it get to me.

Honestly, I'm definitely antsy right now - looking to the future. Wondering what's next for me in terms of my job/career and if we'll live in New York forever, etc. I guess the fall tends to make me feel that way. But the practical reality of life is that I'm way too busy to consider much beyond the daydreams I have at the moment. I'm hoping once these fall activites become more automatic, I will be able to carve out some time this fall to focus on what I want to work towards next. I'd like to have that stuff more firmly in my mind's eye by Christmastime. It will feel good to go into the new year with some new goals. Until then, the exercise and yoga, the cooking and organic foods focus, and the friendships and activities I'm enjoying right now will have to be enough to keep me sane. I'm pouring WAY too much time into my dayjob right now especially with the commute, but with a terrible economy and a really tight job market, there's not much room for me to move out of this lifestyle at the moment. It doesn't mean I can't imagine what will someday be possible, though.

So. What to report.

Well, I had a good yoga class last night. Hard. I was on a weird mat that was fucking slipping all over the place and driving me craaaazy but I got there late, just before the teacher did, and there were no other mats to be had. This was by far the hardest class I've had yet. It wasn't too too bad but he definitely had us doing some poses I've never done before. I did get to "bind" once! Which means you basically are in a pose and loop your arms around through your legs and connect your hands in some insane way that makes you look like a pretzel, making an already difficult standing pose even harder. But I did it! That was cool. I was definitely a weakling in the class, but I kept up. Feel good today.

I grabbed some Chipotle (the burrito bol with basically just beans, chicken, a tiny bit of rice, salsa, and a sprinkling of cheese) before my 9:30 show because I didn't want my usual Wednesday night pizza slice dinner. I'd had a slice of pizza for dinner during my rehearsal the night before. I had the most irritating experience at the Chipotle - this European couple, I think maybe Spanish or something Latin?, well, let's just say they were acting like complete assholes, completely oblivious to anyone but themselves, letting their two obnoxious children run around the place, the parents not even glancing to see if the kids were okay, and they held the line up for a good ten minutes while they debated about what to get on their stupid burritos. UGH. I'm still so pissed off when I think about it. I realize it's completely futile and actually detrimental to let stuff like that get under my skin, but good god I was PISSED. Other people were pissed too. I wanted to smack these idiots.

Wah wah, right? ;)

ANYWAY, finally got to the show, late, because of Mom and Dad Dickwad. But the show was fun and I was exhausted when it was over. I headed home and finished my dinner (didn't have time to eat it before the show. thanks again, Dickwads.), watched some tv, had a tiny dessert of soycream with a cookie, and went to bed. I woke up briefly when Kev came in around 2:30. I tried to wake up this morning for a run but it wasn't happenin. Baby steps...

It's a bit fall-like today. I'm in a long sleeve top and corduroys. Love it. Kevin and I made a big omelet for breakfast - it was SO EFFIN YUMMY. Peppers, onions, turkey bacon, and cheese. We cut it in half, he ate his right then, I put mine on toast as a sandwich and brought it to work, wrapped tightly to maintain the warmth. So I had it at my desk with my iced coffee and it was nothing short of delicious and comforting.

I had some apple slices as a snack and just finished my taco salad lunch (leftover from tacos we made the other night).

Late this afternoon I'm gonna run out to the gym for some cardio. Just 30 mins, probably on the elliptical (which is apparently spelled with TWO L's). I was hoping to do some light lifting today too but since I didn't get a run in this morning, I'll use gym time for some cardio and lift and do a longer cardio session tomorrow. That's the plan anyway. We'll seeeee!

Tonight after work I'm going to over to Chris and Rebecca's apartment to work on the HST musical. It will just be the three of us going over a sketch and a musical number. It will be so nice to rehearse at their apartment rather than in a cold, barren studio space. I'm gonna get a coffee after work and enjoy hanging out with my friends while we work on our show. I'm hoping to leave their place no later than 10, hopefully before. I think it will take me a good hour or more to get home from there. UGH.

Tomorrow should be a relatively relaxing day, I hope. No rehearsals or anything, which is a welcome break. And tomorrow night is date night! Yaay! Not sure what we'll do, but probably dinner, perhaps a movie. Should be lovely. As I said, I'm hoping to get in some exercise at some point. Maybe I can convince Kev that that's the perfect start to date night. ;)

This weekend shall be busy, with rehearsals, a new show opening, and a few social commitments, but that's okay. It will all be fun stuff, I think.

I'm well. Just got out of the habit of posting daily for a few days.

I've been exercising a lot, lately, or at least I feel as though I have. The scale seems to think otherwise. I assume this is because I really let myself enjoy any and all possible foods while I was home in Chicago. I was surprised to see that I was only up a little bit on the scale after that, but I chalked it up to my incredible exercise while I was there (I really did do very well that weekend with the workouts) and moved on. But I think I fooled myself because it seems that the inevitable extra couple pounds I "earned" that weekend were just waiting for me to get nice and comfy.

Last week was certainly better in terms of food consumption and maybe even exercise, but I still ate more than I needed to. I was up for yesterday's weigh-in and just rolled my eyes and hopped off the scale. Whatev, Bev.

I'm incredibly proud of my exercise efforts lately, as I've now mentioned three times. I've been doing regular, long, cardio sessions, and mixing it up with running on the treadmill, running outdoors, hiking outdoors, and the eliptical machine. I've also been taking yoga classes whenever possible and doing some pilates and some light lifting here and there. I know I've said it before but I'm really enjoying the yoga. It's just so great on all accounts for me. I'm a little OCD about the fact that I'm not lifting as much as I used to be, but I know the yoga is building strength and flexbility in a whole different kind of way. I think this current combination of exercise is something I can stick with for a while. As much as I love lifting, I was definitely in a rut with it.

In related news - and this is pretty big for me - Kevin and I woke up this morning and exercised BEFORE I had to leave for work! Huge. We have talked about doing this countless times and I have attempted, with him and without him, countless other times, to actually go through with it. I've only ever succeeded in waking up a little earlier than usual, but not enough time to get any exercise in. This morning, the practice and constant verbalization of our desires finally paid off. We roused ourselves at 8am, which doesn't seem that early all of a sudden, and were out the door by 8:15. We shared half a banana and drank glasses of water before we left and when we opened the door to the apartment I was so pleased to feel brisk fall-like air. It was perfectly sunny, the bluest of skies, and a nice cool 68 degrees. Amazing running weather.

I wasn't sure at first whether or not I was going to be able to eke out a run at all. I'm not a great morning person - never have been. I don't usually like to move fast or talk a lot or think about much before, say, 10am. So we told ourselves we'd just walk until we felt otherwise. We got to the park, which was filled with morning exercisers, and started running a few minutes later. Ended up doing 30 minutes, 21 running, 9 walking. I was worried I wouldn't make it home in time to get ready for work, but we walked in the door with about 15 mintues to spare so I hopped in the shower while Kevin, the darling, packed my lunch for me (and left me a sweet note at the bottom of the bag...awwww >puke<), and I was out the door at just the right time.

It was so nice. I loved it. I felt really glad we did it. It wasn't a stellar workout by any means, but it was certainly progress in what has seemed like a uphill battle I'd never win, the battle to exercise in the morning. I'm not sure if it's something that will become a regular habit for me this fall, but this morning was basically painless so I'm hoping to recreate it more than once. And of course it was just great to be outside breathing in the fresh air and feeling my muscles working. I'm tired now and hungry. But that's okay.

I had an apple on my walk to the train to tide me over, and a sandwich with one egg and one piece of cheese from my egg-cart guy once I got into Manhattan. And! A hot coffee! I'm an iced coffee slave in the summers, but this morning was just cool enough to warrant hot coffee. It was yummy.

I brought my lunch today - chicken quinoa salad, a recipe I stole from my good friend Jess who has brilliant kitchen ideas on the regular (the first batch I made two weeks ago turned out just 'eh' but I learned! and this batch is really delish), a simple spinach salad, a piece of whole wheat bread, and a half an avocado. Not quite sure it will be enough food because, frankly, I'm ravenous right now, but I'll make do.

The best part of today is that I don't have to go exercise on my lunch break! I don't do that every day, but a few times a week I like to try to. I'll go to a yoga and/or pilates (I want to go to yoga but I feel like I should go to pilates) class tonight after work and before my 9:30 improv show - the show I skipped last week in favor of a nice long workout and that great Vinayasa class that I took and loved.

I think maybe I'll just take a relaxing walk around Central Park or midtown in general on my break today, soak in the perfect weather - a sunny 73 here today - and the sights and sounds of the city.

Yesterday the attorneys at my office had lunch catered and I was in charge of setting it up - so I swiped a nice handful of amazing looking cookies. This is not so I can eat them all at once, though wouldn't that be amazing? It's so I can have them for desserts for a few days. I can have one a day, that's the rule. They're yummy. I think I'll save today's for later tonight.

Things are busy again. Back in the swing of real life. It kinda feels like school started and I'm back to all my fall extra-curriculars like play practice and choir practice. It's really just HST that's ramped back up, after our August hiatus. But that, especially this week, is in and of itself a big time committment. We, foolishly or brilliantly, gave ourselves basically two weeks to write our new show, which premieres this Saturday and is a fucking MUSICAL, in essence. I'm not sure we realized, or maybe we did and we were in complete denial, about how much work there was to do. But we all really needed that break in August and most people were out of town anyway, so this is the hand we've dealt ourselves.

Consequently, everyone's working 'round the clock to get this thing on its feet. The people on the team who don't work 9-5s are meeting during the day to write songs and firm up concepts. And we're meeting in the evenings when we can to block out stuff and learn or relearn songs and figure out how to connect the dots. Luckily we wrote some of the non-musical material over the summer. But, for one reason or another, we never write these things down, so we're going to have to remember what we wrote two months ago and basically relearn it and rehearse it to the point of being funny, i.e. not embarrassing. ;) But all in all, it's been a lot of fun so far, this crash-creation process.

I was telling Jess, actually, earlier today via email that this group of people are like family to me. We've known each other for a long time, we've been in a comedy group together for 4 years and we've written six (now seven) full-length sketch shows in that time, we spend a fair majority of our free time together, whether we're working or not, we've travelled all around the country (and Canada!) together, and we know each other very well from having spent these 4 years in this intesively collaborative process together. Which means we also want to kill each other from time to time. But it's always interesting and it's usually a lot of fun and it's certainly been a huge blessing in my life, not just in terms of enjoying myself but also because it's been an amazing learning experience. I know if and when it finally ends, I will spend the rest of my life relating other experiences to this one and missing and cherishing this time. I know that nothing else will ever be like it and that I will always remember getting to live out the dream of being able to create a bunch of silly stuff with my best friends.

Can you tell we have a new show opening and that I'm all excited about it? I am. ;)

Day-job work is good too. I like my new boss, he's really nice, respectful, and easy to work with. And things are busy which is good because it's distracting. I still plan to be out of here before I'm 29 (in a year and 2 months), but I just discovered that yesterday was my 1 year anniversary of returning to this job. (I worked here when I graduated college for a little less than a year, worked other places for a few years, and then returned here last year.) I can't believe a year has passed since then, but it has.

It's going to be tough to fit in all the exercise I want to fit in in the coming days. I have something goin on almost every night. But I will do my best.

That's all my news for today, I think.

Hungry today. Feeling peckish no matter what I do. Had a fruit smoothie for breakfast, which seemed like a genius plan since several hours later I was still feeling satisfied. But then the hunger arrived and hasn't stopped. Alas, I always do better to have protein and/or whole grains in the morning than just fruit.

Tired today too.

Can't wait for work to be over in 30 mins. But then I'm just going to the stupid gym. I don't want to go tonight. So I'm hoping to get there and just do a little while on the eliptical and hopefully it won't be too painful. There will probably be some good tv on.

I have a going-away party tonight for a friend's girlfriend. Right now, I just want to go home and curl up. We'll see how long I last at the party.

Last night Kevin and I made apple cheddar turkey burgers with a new recipe I got and also a batch of chicken soup at the same time! It was a bit stressful in our kitchen for a little while, since we're both relatively new to cooking, but we managed to make two meals, one to save for later and one to eat right away (we ate the turkey burgers). It felt productive. :) It was another lateish night and I did not want to wake up today. I brought some of the soup in for lunch. It's yummy.

I have some yoga and running plans this weekend but we'll see what the weather has in store. Tomorrow it's supposed to rain and I'm actually really looking forward to a rainy Saturday. I want to spend some time in my apartment doing whatever my heart desires. I have a rehearsal tomorrow night at 6pm. I'm not really looking forward to it. Hopefully that attitude will change tomorrow. Might HAVE to take a yoga class tomorrow, even if it means venturing out in the rain, just to help center me and improve my mood before 6pm. Another rehearsal Sunday morning at 11.

Back to it, this busy life. Something's gonna have to give soon. Zzzzz.

Sleepy!

Only a 20 more minutes left before I leave work for the day. Wahooo! Let's see if I can bang out a quick post.

Last night was lovely. I needed an evening completely to myself, as things are going to be gearing up for me very soon. I skipped my improv show, informed the necessary parties, and went to the gym. I did a good 40 minutes on the treadmill, sweating buckets for most of it. I ran for 30 straight and then hiked for the last 10. It was tough to get going into the run, but after a while I felt good and probably would have done another 20 minutes of walking/running had I had time. But my yoga class was beginning upstairs so I had to rehydrate and make my way up there. (My new running shoes are wonderful, btw.)

The class was GREAT. I was glad because I've had a couple disappointing class experiences lately. It was really hard, there were a handful of things I couldn't do at all, and a few things I eagerly attempted only to be gently reminded by my body that huh-uh, not happenin'. But it's something to work towards!

My gym has a several different kinds of yoga classes. There are the easier classes (Hatha yoga) and the ones that are mostly standing poses and therefore harder (Vinyasa) and there are a few other kinds too that I can't remember now, including one called "Club Yoga" which sounds like it's more of a gym class than a yoga class. Last night's class was Vinyasa, and was the first time I'd attempted that class. The few classes I've taken since I started going to regular yoga classes after my back went out a few weeks ago have all been Hatha. So last night, although certainly harder, was a lovely change. And I really liked the teacher too. Unfortunately, I am always occupied on Wednesday nights at 830, when she teaches this class. But I'm hoping to call the gym and find out other times she teaches. It was a pleasant experience. I'm quite sore today. And I feel good. And slim!

After the gym, I went to the grocery store. Debated about it back and forth for quite a while, but finally just decided to go grab a few items. I made a mad dash through the place, the shelves were EMPTY because it was so late in the day (945pm or so), but I still managed to load myself down with more to carry than is humanly sane. The trip home (walk to the subway from the store, down the stairs, through the station, up the stairs at my station, and home) was painful to say the least. My arms were in full out fatigue mode and I'm afraid I undid any good posture or body alignment I had goin on after yoga. I tried to keep my abs tight and my breath fluid while I lugged-500-pounds around the streets of the city. Why I did not take a cab, I do not know. (Yes I do. Why am I gonna shop at Trader Joe's in an effort to save money if I'm just gonna blow the savings on a $20 cab ride back to Brooklyn. ROAR! LIFESTYLE!)

I got home, did the whole refridgerator empty and restock dance, did the dishes, cleaned up, and heated myself up some frozen thing because I just didn't have the energy. I turned on the RNC, had to turn it off because of crazy-making, and had a glass of wine while watching scrubs.

I was so close to having a perfectly OP evening and turning into bed when my darling BF called, slightly tipsy, and said he was coming home from the bar (that he went to after the improv show). And would I wait up for him? I wasn't so tired, so I said sure.

Welllllll, he got home, I ate six points more of stupid shit I didn't need (pistachios, two tiny cookies, and a bite of carrot bread) and went to bed at 245am! WHAT! I don't know how it happened. We were having fun watching some show on dateline about prostitutes (ha) and chatting. I was so fucking tired this morning. And so fucking pissed that I'd snacked when I wasn't hungry and ruined my otherwise great day. Whatever. Live and learn. And go to sleep when you think you should.

Of course I'm paying for it today. Work has been a struggle because I'm so tired! I must have whatever gene it is that causes one to feel really uncomfortable when one hasn't had enough sleep because...you get the idea.

But I've got nothing going on tonight and I think I'm opting out of a workout, unless I experience some divine energy burst when I get home and Kevin and I go for a walk before dinner. We're probably gonna go out tonight, date night! Just to dinner somewhere and hopefully back home for some couch time. I already warned him that I'm not gonna be good for more than a few hours tonight. I feel bad to abandon him for my sleep schedule but what can you do.

I hope to wake up a bit early tomorrow to prep some breakfast and lunch for the day. I was in such a hazy daze this morning I forgot all the brilliant plans I had for bringing things in from home to eat at work and grabbed other totally weird stuff that I ended up not wanting at all when I got here.

Bitch bitch bitch, yeah? I'm tired!

This blog has broken my heart. And my friend Jess sent me this article about the guy who writes the blog. He's originally from Minneapolis, where Jess lives, and Jess is friends with a friend of his. His story is tragic and is a reminder of the fact that none of us are promised tomorrow.

I just realized that yesterday's post was rather long, and potentially arduous for the reader, that perhaps the majority of people who read my blog don't need a play by play of exactly what I did and when I went to the bathroom while I was visting my family in Illinois. Well, hmph. It was semi-fun (or was it?) for me to write. And I know at least a few of my blog-reading friends enjoy the minutia.

Alas, I suppose I can try to pull back a bit on the exact recounting.

Luckily, I haven't much to say today. I'm tired, despite a whopping TEN hours of sleep last night. In bed at 10:30, awake for brief moments at 1:00am, 3:00am, 7:30am (should have gotten out of bed at this point), and finally up for good around 8:30. My goal for tomorrow morning is to actually get out of bed when I wake up, as long as it's after 6am. That's my goal. My aim. I aim to do this. To accomplish it? Remains to be seen...

But had I actually gotten out of bed today when I woke up at 7:30...oooBOY the things I could have accomplished! ;)

You know? This domestic life? It's lovely and all. But it's WORK. My god! It's a lot of work! The sweeping, the wiping, the tidying, the decluttering, the organizing, the what-the-fuck-do-I-do-with-all-these-plastic-bags-and-how-did-I-acquire-them-anyway-since-I-feel-like-I-always-bring-my-own-bag-when-I-go-shopping, the meal planning...seriously. I don't think I actually knew it would occupy this much mental space. And to someday add a kid to that?! Pffft! Craziness. I can't imagine. I definitely need to get outta this job in the next year.

ANYWAY. :) Tonight, I'm undecided. I have an improv show but I might skip it. I need some time to myself. This weekend gears back up to normal non-August-vacation life - a handful of gatherings, obligations, rehearsals, and events. Big sigh. So I'd much rather be peacefully prepared for that schedule than feeling like I can't catch up right outta the gate. Which means I might skip tonight's show. It's something I rarely do, skip a show, so we'll see. Yoga is DEFINITELY in the cards either tonight or tomorrow. And so are a couple of nice long runs.

My eating is getting back on track after the very free (ahem) long weekend. I had a reasonable day yesterday, in terms of food. And I'm doing even better today. I went to the farmer's market on my lunch break to pick up some produce, either Kevin or I will do the rest of the shopping tonight or tomorrow, and I've made a meal plan for the next week or so complete with some easy new dinners to try out.

That's it. How's that for low-detail.

August to September

I had a really good time at home in Chicago (er, a Chicago suburb). I'm not sad to be back, necessarily, but I'm sad it had to end. I could have used several more hours in each day while we were there.

We arrived on Friday afternoon and went out to dinner with my mom, her husband, my grandparents who'd driven up from Southern Illinois for the visit, and my aunt and uncle who also live in town. It was so fun. Lots of drinking and eating. Slept like a rock that night.

Saturday morning I woke up early (as I did every day) and had some breakfast, egg sandwiches a la my mom, with the family before some of us headed off to Health Bridge, the local fancy workout facility. My cousin Kalan's boyfriend Dave drove us to the health club. (Kalan, a special ed teacher who just started her very first teaching job last week and Dave, a Scottish guy who Kalan met while studying abroad and who is currently in America to go to school, live with her parents right now to save money, the same aunt and uncle I had dinner with on Friday night.) My mom and grandparents stayed home and worked out outside or on the treadmill downstairs, but Dave, my mom's husband Tom, and Kevin and I all went to Health Bridge. I'd arranged for Kevin to have a 10:30am massage that morning, which was also happening at the health club. So we basically dropped him off at the spa section and set out about our various workouts. I did a blessed 60 minutes of cardio, 30 running, 30 on the ellipitcal, and it was nice. The facility is huge, with great equiptment and lots of options in terms of exercise. (I saw a healthy handful of people I knew from high school, though, which was a bit odd.)

After we grabbed Kevin from the spa area, who looked easily a foot taller and like a whole new person (and he loved the massage - said it set the tone for him for the whole weekend and felt great), we all headed back to my mom's house, just a 3 minute drive, and took showers, etc. Before I showered I did some light lifting and stretching in the basement while my mom lifted weights too.

That evening, after an afternoon spent running errands with my mom and grandmother while Kevin hung with my stepdad back at the homestead, was a big BBQ at my mom's house with the whole family. My mom, her hub, my grandparents, the aunt and uncle from Friday's dinner, Kalan and Dave, Kalan's sister - my cousin - Mallory, my other uncle who lives in downtown Chicago and drove in for the evening, his wife, and their twin 7 year olds - a boy and a girl. And of course Kevin and me. My mom, with the help of her husband, oldest brother, and sister in law, prepared a big spread with tons of great BBQ food. We got drunk on whiskey sours and beer and I ate way more than I needed to. We all talked and laughed and told stories well into the evening. I crashed before the party ended that night, I was so tired.

The next morning, Sunday, I woke up early again, ready for another great day. We had plans to meet everyone for breakfast at a local place. I'd never been there before, but I wasn't terribly impressed. We all met around 9, everyone from the party the night before, and enjoyed a nice big meal. My grandparents left to drive back to their house, 5 hours away, after breakfast. My mom and stepdad and Kevin and I headed back home to relax.

I talked Kevin into taking me shopping for some stuff I needed and he was a great sport about it. We had a nice afternoon alone together, driving around the suburbs, people watching and price comparing. It was tiring, naturally, but productive.

My mom and her hub went mini-golfing with the twins and their dad that afternoon, then the twins and their dad drove back to the city and my mom and Tom were home when we got there with all our stuff (new sneaks, new bras, and a new pair of jeans! wahoo!) Kevin and I made a big spinach salad for lunch and then couched it out for a while. We were debating about whether or not to go down to Jazz Fest in the city that evening - my mom was planning to take us, but by the time the evening rolled around she was just so exhausted from everything we'd already done that weekend - and I don't blame her - so she gave us the option of going alone, but we ended up deciding to just stay in town and relax. The city and live music would have been nice, but we live in a big city and we've heard some good live music this summer already. New York is not Chicago by any means and it would have been nice to be downtown, but still - we were on vacation from all crazy hectic city life.

We did decide to go to the nearby park, called Veterans Acres, which is actually this huge forest preserve type area with tons of wildlife and different foresty areas of all varietys - and LOTS of hills - to go for a run. We did a light ten minute lifting session at the house before we left and then drove to the park. It was a nice 40 minute jog, but it was HARD. The hills at this place are unreal and every time you conquer one you feel like the next one is already staring you down. We covered lots of different terrain in those 40 mins, jogging most of the way. We had so much fun together, enjoying nature and taking in the sights and smells. It was pretty great. We ran up some huge stairs that are built into the side of a hill at the end of the workout, the back down them, then up again to finish. It was a really good workout that made me feel out of shape! Those hills were killer. My mom says that even when she's in great shape (she just had foot surgery so she hasn't been able to run for the last couple months) that park is a hard workout for her. And my mom is an athlete who rarely complains about tough workouts. Kevin and I are both still sore from it. But we both wore our new running shoes and they held up perfectly.

We got home, showered, (our ankles were filthy from all the dirt we ran through), and sat down to Chinese take out with my mom and stepdad. It was yummy and we had a nice chat over dinner. We all watched some tv after that, then my parents went to bed. Kevin and I debated going to a movie, but we were both sleepy so instead we made ourselves decadant sundaes with low calorie ice cream and some other yummy crap left over from the BBQ. We crashed into bed yet again.

Woke up Monday and went to the gym again. I did some pilates and some cardio and then we headed home to shower, etc. in time for a 10am brunch at my aunt's house. My mom offered to let me drive her stick shift, two-seater, convertible sports car, which she just bought at a STEAL (like, so so cheap) and is in great condition. It was soooo fun. I haven't driven stick in years and it came right back to me. I had to be careful because I don't technically have a drivers license but it was a quick trip.

Brunch at my aunt and uncle's was yummy, lots of horribly decadent things. Mimosas, quiches, pigs wrapped in bacon (OH GOD - I HAD FIVE!), sausage biscuits and gravy, some pecan french toast casserole heart attack thing - it was unreal. I had much more than I needed to, but was still restrained and loaded my plate up with fruit too. We ran a few errands after that, and then packed ourselves into the car to drive to a nearby outdoor bar/music venue on the river called the Broken Oar. It was fun, HILARIOUS people watching, okay live music, and beers-during-the-day. It was such a hot, sunny day. Can't beat that. It was a great way to spend our last few hours in town.

We came home, slightly hungover, and had some lunch while watching tv. We packed up the car soon after that with all our stuff, had to force that suitcase closed since we acquired some stuff during the stay, and my mom and her husband drove us to the airport around 6pm. The sun was on its way down, it was still hot, almost 90, and we had a nice 40 minute drive.

I was sad to leave. It was definitely bittersweet to be heading home. We had some time to kill at the airport so we popped into a bookshop and I was fighting back tears the whole time we were browsing. Kev was a champ about it, of course. And hugged and kissed me and let me talk it all out while my eyes welled up. He's the best.

The plane ride home was interesting to say the least. I never love to fly. I don't really mind it, but I sometimes feel a bit worried during take off and landing. I assume that's the case for most people and I try not to let it bother me while I'm on the plane. Well, the girl next to me, who was acting 'normal' in all other respects, turned into a complete nut when the plane took off. I'm talking freaking out. Like, panic attack style. And she was sitting all the way on the inside. I felt awful for her. She was so panicked. It was crazy. She kept looking out the window, like getting really really close to the window and peering out of it, and then freaking out and slamming it shut. Grabbing onto the walls and the chair arms every time there was a bump or pressure shifted. It was really stressful. Her energy was making me crazed myself. I couldn't figure out why I was feeling so jumpy and then I realized that this girl was making me think my life was in grave danger every six seconds. Everyone else on the plane was completely calm and then there was this poor girl having a meltdown. It was a bit intense. It made me wonder why she ever flies to begin with.

We got home late, after an otherwise fun plane ride enjoying each other's company. And it was equally so nice to realize that we didn't have to cab to separate apartments or say goodbye for the night once we landed. We live together! :)

The weekend was so nice for us to reconnect. My family really likes Kevin and he really likes them too. They're a fun bunch, but they can be overwhelming at times. He just takes it all in stride.

And Kevin is FINALLY done with his project! He was literally on the phone wrapping things up on Friday afternoon as he was packing and cleaning out the cat litter before the trip. Ha! The poor guy. But he's DONE now. And he said this weekend was like rehab for him. I'm so glad. He will hopefully have some time to himself for a while now. He's going to the US Open with his dad tonight and will be able to spend today relaxing, I hope.

This trip was really good for me too. I needed to get out of town and clear my head. I've been so angry at New Yorkers lately, hating (hating) the girl who sits next to me at work, hating the commute some mornings, hating certain personalities that are all over this city, hating how tense my shoulders get after a day at my office job, hating how cramped things can feel and how tightly packed my life is. And all that hate is never a good thing.

But the trip was good. Kevin and I had some great chats about what we want for our lives and our careers and how we hope to spend our time and money while we're still young, childless, and independent. And I have returned to the city with a slightly renewed feeling. It certainly wasn't a huge mental overhaul, but it was definitely what I needed. I feel not so pissed off at certain people in my life as I was when I left, not so fed up with certain circumstances, I feel like the stuff I'm not looking forward to in the coming days and weeks won't be so awful now, and I feel like I was able to reconnect to my family in an way that always makes me feel rooted. I love them all very much.

I'm excited for fall, for the weather to get cooler and for new activities to present themselves. September is a lovely month. My cousin Kalan is coming to visit for a long weekend in October and she's never been here before. So that will be awesome. We're staying in town for Thanksgiving to be with Kevin's family, but at Christmas time Kev and I are going to visit my grandparents in Southern, IL and then a bunch of us are going to Florida for a few days. Should be great.

I still feel a bit stuck in my current reality. Stuck in this job and other things I haven't felt like doing lately that I still have to do. But I've set some goals for myself and a rough timeline for leaving this office assistant thing I've been doing since I graduated. And I know forward motion is happening. And I'm so excited to watch the unfolding the next chapter of my life.

In terms of health - lots of food consumed. I was a bit OCD about it all through Saturday night. Mentioned it to Kevin and he was basically like, "RELAX." So I decided to take the weekend off from counting points. It's been eons since I've done that. It was nice. I know I ate and drank much more than I needed to, but at least I wasn't all worrying about tallying it up all the time, which always causes me to miss the moment. And I definitely made tremendously good choices too. I could have done much worse damage than I did. Plus, the three solid days of great workouts - not too shabby.

Today I'll make a menu plan for dinners and go to the grocery store after my yoga class. I'll take an 8:15 yoga class tonight (I've really missed yoga since I haven't gotten to take a class in about a week - I'm quickly becoming an addict) and probably get in 30 minutes of cardio before the class. Also I'll hopefully make some dinner at home (the kitchen is all clean, thanks to my darling BF who cleaned it before we left!) and couch it out. To bed early, also, would be ideal.

Things are going to rev back up in the coming weeks. But I can say no when I need to. I'm going to work on not judging myself for my need to be in solitude sometimes.