Work It Out

Good morning!

Last month whizzed by and now here I am on the first of February thinking about what my new goals will be for the month. Because part of my New Year Resolution is to make new goals every month.

January goals went pretty well! I kicked my Tim Hortons habit! (Bye bye French Vanillas! *sobs*) I started a new workout regime to get to my newest goal: Fit into my Maid of Honour dress. I’ve been eating better, and better still, not getting on the scale three times a day to see if the salad I just ate made me lose ten pounds magically.

Now, since today is the beginning of a fresh month I’ve decided that I will weigh myself once a month now instead of every day to watch my progress.

Turns out: That was stupid of me.

I’ve been feeling really great in my body, I’ve been having less stomach problems, I’ve got more energy, feeling really great, feeling like I don’t really NEED the homemade cappuccinos anymore (even if they are only 90 calories). Just all around kicking ass!

Until I stepped on the scale. I haven’t lost any weight. At all. Which really bums me out because I SWEAR I was thinning out around my middle. I just had a mini flip out because WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THIS FOR IF I’M NOT LOSING WEIGHT WILL I FIT INTO MY DRESS WILL I EVER GET THE BODY I DREAM ABOUT HOW COME NO ONE LOVES ME IS IT BECAUSE I’M THIS GIANT PIECE OF —-

Whoa Nelly. Look, progress reports are important when you are trying to hit a goal. But to get on the scale and start berating myself after an entire month of happy happy joy joy was really surprising. I thought that I would be like “Ah well, better luck next month!” get off the scale and go about my day. But instead I was thrown back into an old habit and worse, an old way of thinking.

So my goals for this month are: Be kinder. (Yes, that’s the same as last month and should always be a goal.) Change my way of thinking of my body. Treat myself better. No scale until March 1st. Doing something nice for someone. Learn to say ‘No’ to things. (That’s a big one, I’m not what you would call well off financially and I keep saying ‘Yes’ to things I shouldn’t.) Stand up for myself at least once this month. And as ever: Practice piano.

That one is actually proving to be the hardest to get to.

Anyway, if you are wondering what my work out regime is currently, you can find it here:

MyPeakChallenge

I’m finding it to be so unbelievably doable, especially for anyone with a sedentary job or is new to working out. I also like that there is no “30 Day to a New You!” tag on it or anything like that. It’s a year long program that’s suppose to help you reach your own goals.

And it’s run by hot Scottish guys, so there’s that. I’m talking Sam Heughan from ‘Outlander’ is part of it. And it’s so nice to not be yelled at while working out, even from a video. Like they are laughing sometimes. Which makes me laugh! I love that!

Anyway, follow me on Instagram if you want to watch my stories on this program unfold.

It’s mostly me laying on a mat sweating my balls off praying to Beyonce to help me.

Keep moving forward!

 

Keep Moving Forward

I am having major body image issues this week.

Mostly because I can’t stop eating. And crying. And eating because I’m crying. And crying because I’m eating.

Let’s put this in perspective though: People gotta eat. And ladies get PMS, and sometimes that PMS makes us batshit. *shrug*

I’m just eating the bad stuff. ALL the bad stuff. And it’s delicious, but I feel like poo. I’m trying to recognize that this all makes me feel like garbage so that I stop. But part of me is like “Quite frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” And then I’m a bitch to myself and glare at my body in the mirror while thinking mean thoughts.

I can say things like “Well, no more! I am wonderful! And I’m hot! And I’m beautiful no matter what!” But I don’t believe myself this week and that’s because my inside feels like garbage and the outside is starting to reflect that.

So what I’m proposing is that I hold myself accountable for my actions (mainly the action of continually buying Sour Cream and Bacon chips every five minutes) and have you guys hold me accountable as well.

I am going to make a more active effort.

And I’ll be marking my progress here and Instagram likely.

I’ll talk more next week about this, ideas are still circling.

But for now, keep moving forward and if you are like me, stop believing the bad stuff, start eating the good stuff, and put down the chips, man.

Constant vigilance!

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That dog is my spirit animal.

Keep Moving Forward: Dear Me.

Dear Me:

I love you. I do. Which is why this needs to be said:

Get the FUCK up.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHY ARE YOU JUST LAYING ON YOUR BED WATCHING HART OF DIXIE THINKING ABOUT HOW YOU WANT TO BE HEALTHY LIKE ANNABETH INSTEAD OF ACTUALLY TRYING TO BE HEALTHY LIKE A.B?! GET IT TOGETHER WOMAN.

Nothing good ever came from laying on your ass eating five donuts in a row and watching television. You are killing yourself. You are becoming a sloth and not the fun cute kind.

You are a beautiful, kind hearted, nice person and that’s all well and good, but you aren’t being healthy anymore. You are making your fat cage bigger and that just means there’s some crazy shit going on in your life which you need to do something about.

Be brave and use your words instead of bricking yourself in with donuts and chips.

You can do this. You were made to be victorious. You are not 15 years old and need a shell to hide in. You are going to be 28 years old and if you want to be in a different place in your life in a year then you need to start doing things that will get you there.

The one thing you have real control over is your body. You are solely responsible for what goes in so make sure it’s good. (Mentally and physically.)

So get the fuck up. Now.

Put down the English Toffee, jackass. That’s not helping either.

Sincerely: The Healthy Bitch You’ve Been Sitting On.

PS: Sometimes it’s not the scales fault I feel like shit.

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I’m Human.

Here’s the thing, and it’s a big thing, an obvious thing but a big one: I’m human.

So when I find out that instead of losing ten pounds, I’ve GAINED ten pounds, I have to remind myself that I am human. I fall off the wagon even though I just started and that I’m doing this for Lent. It is okay to fail, it just means that I have the knowledge, will power, and attitude adjustment to do better for the next time around.

The next time around starts when I’m not so stressed about moving/saying goodbye to my favourite restaurants in Vancouver. The next time starts when I will have all day to think about the food I’m putting in my mouth. The next time starts when I am not PMSing and the Salt Monster comes around.

OR, the next time can be when I pull myself up by my bootstraps, remind myself that I am the kind of person who loses more in inches than in pounds, and that I am beautiful no matter what shape and size I am. As a person who hates endings, I find it rather easy to say Goodbye to being a pansy weakling with no willpower.

The most important word in my vocabulary now will be: “No.”

That sounds negative, but it worked for me before. I simply say “No” to food pushers (mainly me.) and to bad foods for me and to being miserable and using my body as a cage to hide myself in.

I’m coming for you life and I’m not sticking around in this prison anymore.

That’s all nice to say, but goddamn Thai food has got me in its grips. And I’ve reintroduced alcohol into my life. And I have a horrible stomach ache because of it. I freely admit that I am the kind of person who needs a support system in this. I need a person I can go to every week who tells me that I can and will do better. That I have it in me to take care of myself! That tells me “Hey. Take bacon poutine and peanut butter milkshakes off your docket kid.” (Those happened at the same time and were so delicious and I felt disgusting afterwards.)

How unfortunate that that person isn’t always myself.

Tomorrow may not be the seventeen thousandth restart, but I will be conscious of my food decisions even if I add alcohol to the mix. (Which I will, we are having a party tomorrow to say Goodbye.)

I do not hate my body. I am disappointed in myself for letting me down today, but I will always, ALWAYS, rise again. Notice how I didn’t say letting myself down this week, month, or year. Just one day. Every day is a new start and I will only let myself feel bad about this for as short of a time as I can. I will not wallow and take myself out of the running completely.

No fat shaming here. My body is my body. I have fat, I am not fat. I do love my body, even the “weird” nooks and crannies. Honestly, cellulite kind of makes me laugh. Jiggling my thighs is endless enjoyment, papa loves her tree trunks. I DO look at my back fat as my enemy, but that’s because I KNOW that under that is a beautiful majestic back that use to wear backless shirts and bathing suits. Oh you beautiful girl.

My stretch marks are my army stripes. I don’t want to be thin: I want to be a warrior. I want to be a woman. I want to be able to kick through doors and run a mile, and be a divine wind.

This is simultaneously a love letter to myself and update on how I am doing.

God isn’t perfect either, but Papa G will help me get through this. Probably by making me throw up tomorrow night since that’s our new M.O. when drinking. Haw haw. Thanks for that downer/embarrassing new trick.

Sorry this isn’t about books, but my body needed the attention today.

Constant vigilance.

Me and the Big Guy Upstairs

Otherwise known as ‘Papa G’.

Tomorrow is the start of Lent and although I’m not the most Catholic of Catholics I still love Lent and Easter. I like new beginnings. (Hate endings, go figure.) Three years ago I decided that I was going to stop giving up things for Lent and instead researched what Lent was really about. (Giving up on giving up, typical backwards Allison.)

It’s about doing things to be closer to God and my faith. Now, I’m not going to go all hell-fire and brimstone on you. I just want to take this moment to say that I love Papa G. I do. I’m not ashamed that I love God and I think He’s a wise-guy. (In the sense of both being wise and being a jackass.) I may not go to church or read the Bible or even really actively pray. For me it’s more that I’m like “Ah, shit. I need help. Got any ideas good sir?” and then He trips me so that I fall into where I was meant to be.

We have a good friendship. I thank Him for all He’s done and prevented and for the fact that I’m still here and my family and friends are in good health and happy. We’re bros.

Three years ago it was about becoming a better me in order to thank Him for letting me be on this planet and in this ‘verse. I decided what better way than to stop being a miserable fatty and take care of the bod that the good God gave me.

Two years ago (after dropping 30 odd pounds.) I decided that it was time to pick up on some talents I have and nurture the gifts that the old guy gave me. I took up piano and singing lessons and tried to come out of my shell more. Meet new people, talk! Sing! Laugh! I needed alcohol to help me out sometimes, but I did it.

Last year it was all about busting out of my shell and doing something for the soul. Not faith related really, but more a routine check up on what’s blocking me from being my better self. So I took some chakra classes and figured some things out about myself. (Hello self conscious central. My voice was being muted and I bust through that like it was nobodies business. I’m still working on it though so don’t ask me to speak in public or spring new people on me without my going semi-mute.)

So this year what am I doing?

Should I do something for the heart? For the soul? For the mind? For my sexy sexy body?

Drum roll please.

This year I decided to treat my body like a temple instead of the trash can it’s become in the last year.

I see potential in my body every day and then I promptly eat something revolting that makes me feel like poo and I regret it immediately. Sabotage!!! I don’t know why I do it, maybe it’s because I’m literally making a fat shell so that I have a “reason” to not interact with other people. Who knows, maybe I’ll figure it out this Lent.

So this year I’m going to treat my body how it deserves. We’re going to exercise, eat so well I’ll turn into a rabbit, and by treating my body right the rest will follow. When I eat right and exercise I’m more confident in my movements, I’m more powerful in my voice, and I let people into my heart more because I’m just so fucking happy about where I’m headed. Then a little voice says “You stink” and I eat a poutine. Well not anymore you little fucker. Papa G and I are coming at you!!! (Am I annoying you with how much I’m calling God ‘Papa G’? Haha. Shall we try my other name for him? It’s G-Unite. Just so you know. Okay, that’s a lie, I just made that up. But that’s more obnoxious don’t you think? Haha.)

I’m going to treat myself like the champion I am.

Look out Lent. There’s a new sheriff in town.

I don’t know what that means, but I’m jazzed to start tomorrow. Haha

Constant vigilance!