So, I've been doing pretty well with the whole Eat Like a Grown-Up thing. Plus, I've really been making an effort to not eat after 8:00 pm. The deliciousness of nachos increases exponentially as the day goes on*, so if I don't eat them after 8:00 pm, I generally** don't eat them. I went shopping with a friend last week, and actually fit into a small. I'm thrilled when I fit into a medium, so a small makes me question if I was actually shopping in the maternity wear by mistake. (This has happened before at Target. I'd rather not talk about it.) But a small! Maybe my 8 year-old mind was right! Maybe I can accomplish anything! Maybe I'll be 130 by 30! And an astronaut! Okay, maybe not that last one, but still!
And then came the holiday weekend.
I actually gave myself a pep talk. Out loud. While looking in the mirror.*** I told myself I didn't need to overeat just because it was a holiday; there would be plenty of fruits and veggies that I could partake in, and feel all proud of myself afterwards.
Needless to say, my actual life choice did not leave me feeling all proud of myself.
So, here I am, afraid to step on the scale and acknowledge the damage I've done with the three**** Memorial Day picnics I attended. Am I the only 29-going-on-30 year-old who still hasn't learned moderation? Where did everybody else my age get it? Where was I? These aren't rhetorical questions--I really want answers.
*It's science, people.
**This excludes holidays, social occasions, outings, and days where I just need nachos, dammit.
***I apparently wanted to channel a cliche from every movie where a character is facing a dilemma.
****Yes, three. And I overate at every single one.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Vermin, no. Deliciousness, yes!
Warning: This isn't really a full-blown post. I just feel the need to take a moment to celebrate the wonder that is ratatouille. To be completely honest, I never even knew what ratatouille was until Pixar enlightened me, and even then, it didn't exactly tickle my pickle. (Was anyone else disappointed that Remy made soup of all things for the critic? Access to all kinds of Parisian cuisine, and he makes soup???) It just wasn't terribly exciting.
Well, I was paging through my mom's copy of French Women Don't Get Fat by Mireille Guilianno (which I permanently borrowed years ago), and came across a super easy looking recipe for ratatouille. What the hell, I thought. Why not?
It turns out that ratatouille is incredible. There's not much to it, but I was looking forward to lunch today because I knew we had leftovers. If you like eggplant, garlic, and tomatoes, give it a shot. The recipe I made used a crock pot, so all I had to do was chop up vegetables, and forget about them for four hours while I went and took a nap (seriously, that's what I did). If you know of an easier, healthy recipe that is actually good, let me know. In the meantime, I pledge my allegiance to ratatouille.
Well, I was paging through my mom's copy of French Women Don't Get Fat by Mireille Guilianno (which I permanently borrowed years ago), and came across a super easy looking recipe for ratatouille. What the hell, I thought. Why not?
It turns out that ratatouille is incredible. There's not much to it, but I was looking forward to lunch today because I knew we had leftovers. If you like eggplant, garlic, and tomatoes, give it a shot. The recipe I made used a crock pot, so all I had to do was chop up vegetables, and forget about them for four hours while I went and took a nap (seriously, that's what I did). If you know of an easier, healthy recipe that is actually good, let me know. In the meantime, I pledge my allegiance to ratatouille.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Fear and Loathing
I've gotten a bit cocky. I've been doing really well with the exercise part of the "diet and exercise" thing, and while I knew I needed to work on the eating part, I guess I didn't acknowledge how serious it was. I weighed myself for the first time in two weeks this morning.
138.
For those keeping score at home, yes, I gained 1 pound from when I first started this blog. All the work, all the running, all the stickers. All for not. As you may have guessed, I'm feeling less than motivated at the moment.
I can't say that it's a complete surprise--I've had my share of junk food in the past few weeks, and without getting on the scale, I wasn't feeling particularly 130-ish. Or 134-ish, for that matter. I guess I just hoped that the running would cover for the nachos (on a related note, I did find two different bar/restaurants that serve amazing nachos that are each perfect in completely different ways, like snowflakes). Alas, the running not only failed to cover for the nachos, but made me hungrier than usual. I'm told you're supposed to eat things like tuna and bananas to combat this, not pulled pork BBQ nachos (which are as awesome as they sound). I can practically hear my body laughing at me. ("You thought just because Left Knee stopped hurting that we'd cave in to your unreasonable demands? We've been planning our rebellion the whole time! And here's what we think about this 10k crap! VIVA LA COUCH!")
So now I'm fear and loathing on my couch. Fear that I might not be able to make 130 by 30, loathing that I can't control my addiction to junk food. Interestingly, my 8 year-old mind has come in handy during this dark time. The beauty of being 8 years old is that you haven't grasped the idea that maybe, just maybe, some things are a little out of reach. There was no doubt in my mind at 8 that I was going to be an actress when I grew up; in fact, I was pretty damn sure that I was going to be the youngest actress ever to win an Academy Award. Someone would; why not me? So 8 year-old mind is helping me out at the moment. I can still hit 130 by 30. I'm exercising, and now I know how close I am to 140, as opposed to 130. And as a wise man once said, knowing is half the battle.
138.
For those keeping score at home, yes, I gained 1 pound from when I first started this blog. All the work, all the running, all the stickers. All for not. As you may have guessed, I'm feeling less than motivated at the moment.
I can't say that it's a complete surprise--I've had my share of junk food in the past few weeks, and without getting on the scale, I wasn't feeling particularly 130-ish. Or 134-ish, for that matter. I guess I just hoped that the running would cover for the nachos (on a related note, I did find two different bar/restaurants that serve amazing nachos that are each perfect in completely different ways, like snowflakes). Alas, the running not only failed to cover for the nachos, but made me hungrier than usual. I'm told you're supposed to eat things like tuna and bananas to combat this, not pulled pork BBQ nachos (which are as awesome as they sound). I can practically hear my body laughing at me. ("You thought just because Left Knee stopped hurting that we'd cave in to your unreasonable demands? We've been planning our rebellion the whole time! And here's what we think about this 10k crap! VIVA LA COUCH!")
So now I'm fear and loathing on my couch. Fear that I might not be able to make 130 by 30, loathing that I can't control my addiction to junk food. Interestingly, my 8 year-old mind has come in handy during this dark time. The beauty of being 8 years old is that you haven't grasped the idea that maybe, just maybe, some things are a little out of reach. There was no doubt in my mind at 8 that I was going to be an actress when I grew up; in fact, I was pretty damn sure that I was going to be the youngest actress ever to win an Academy Award. Someone would; why not me? So 8 year-old mind is helping me out at the moment. I can still hit 130 by 30. I'm exercising, and now I know how close I am to 140, as opposed to 130. And as a wise man once said, knowing is half the battle.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Spancy!
10k!!!!!
Actually, it was 6.4 miles, which is more than 10k, but I'm not even going to try to translate that into the metric system, which we all know is essential for the "spancy" adjective.
To be completely honest, it wasn't intentional; it was more like a happy accident. I was running/walking on the bike trail, which has mile markers and markers at each road that intersects. I usually go about 2.2 miles, and turn around, more or less putting me at 4.4 miles (that kind of math I can do). I decided to do 5 miles today, because it was beautiful out and my knee wasn't rebelling (I think it quietly accepted it's oppression). The catch is there weren't any markers to indicate when I hit 2.5 miles. So I kept going.
That's right. I ran/walked 10k because of my inability to judge distance. Who knew that would be a useful skill?
So, of course, the very first thing I did when I got home was to run to the mirror, and see if a six pack magically sprouted on my stomach on the drive home. Sadly, it did not. However, that didn't stop me from checking again approximately two minutes later. And then again, after I went to the bathroom, because maybe my new magical abs were hiding in my colon.
I plan on trying to hit 10k again tomorrow. But for now, I'm basking in my spanciness.
Actually, it was 6.4 miles, which is more than 10k, but I'm not even going to try to translate that into the metric system, which we all know is essential for the "spancy" adjective.
To be completely honest, it wasn't intentional; it was more like a happy accident. I was running/walking on the bike trail, which has mile markers and markers at each road that intersects. I usually go about 2.2 miles, and turn around, more or less putting me at 4.4 miles (that kind of math I can do). I decided to do 5 miles today, because it was beautiful out and my knee wasn't rebelling (I think it quietly accepted it's oppression). The catch is there weren't any markers to indicate when I hit 2.5 miles. So I kept going.
That's right. I ran/walked 10k because of my inability to judge distance. Who knew that would be a useful skill?
So, of course, the very first thing I did when I got home was to run to the mirror, and see if a six pack magically sprouted on my stomach on the drive home. Sadly, it did not. However, that didn't stop me from checking again approximately two minutes later. And then again, after I went to the bathroom, because maybe my new magical abs were hiding in my colon.
I plan on trying to hit 10k again tomorrow. But for now, I'm basking in my spanciness.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Return to Neverland: Falling Off the Wagon
I have good news and bad news.
The good news is I'm running like a motherfucker (I've never seen one run, but I imagine if you pursue that particular hobby, it has to be a skill you develop). The sticker system is totally working, and I built up to the point where I'm running/walking 5 miles! Hooray! The best part is that 5 miles is almost 6 miles, which if I'm not mistaken, is equivalent to 10k. Multiples of 10 make me feel special. The metric system makes me feel fancy.
10k makes me spancy.
Additional awesome is that, according to my statistical software program (also known as Stay Positive Smiley Stickers, or SPSS), I ran/walked 3 times a week, every week in April. One particularly ambitious week, I went 4 times.
And now the bad stuff.
I am addicted to fast food. I may have run like a motherfucker, but you can't tell because I've reverted to eating absolute crap. I know a big portion of this stems from the Neverland lifestyle I've grown accustomed to. That, and it's been an incredibly stressful and busy past week, which increases my laziness factor exponentially. My 8 year-old mind will only accept so much before it just tantrums. All I can do is hope I'm not at work, rehearsals, or on the phone with my adviser when it happens, or I'll wind up screaming, "YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!!!" and throwing myself on the ground and refusing to get up.
I have high hopes for this coming week--finals will be over, so a lot of the stress will disappear (theoretically, anyway). Maybe I'll get a chance to go grocery shopping, and beable motivated to prepare healthy-yet-delicious meals. April got me exercising on a regular basis; May needs to be about Eating Like a Grown-Up (For Real This Time).
The good news is I'm running like a motherfucker (I've never seen one run, but I imagine if you pursue that particular hobby, it has to be a skill you develop). The sticker system is totally working, and I built up to the point where I'm running/walking 5 miles! Hooray! The best part is that 5 miles is almost 6 miles, which if I'm not mistaken, is equivalent to 10k. Multiples of 10 make me feel special. The metric system makes me feel fancy.
10k makes me spancy.
Additional awesome is that, according to my statistical software program (also known as Stay Positive Smiley Stickers, or SPSS), I ran/walked 3 times a week, every week in April. One particularly ambitious week, I went 4 times.
And now the bad stuff.
I am addicted to fast food. I may have run like a motherfucker, but you can't tell because I've reverted to eating absolute crap. I know a big portion of this stems from the Neverland lifestyle I've grown accustomed to. That, and it's been an incredibly stressful and busy past week, which increases my laziness factor exponentially. My 8 year-old mind will only accept so much before it just tantrums. All I can do is hope I'm not at work, rehearsals, or on the phone with my adviser when it happens, or I'll wind up screaming, "YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!!!" and throwing myself on the ground and refusing to get up.
I have high hopes for this coming week--finals will be over, so a lot of the stress will disappear (theoretically, anyway). Maybe I'll get a chance to go grocery shopping, and be
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