Thursday, April 26, 2012

Here, Come Get Fat With Me

You know what I hate? Loose ends. Which is why it's driving me absolutely batty that I have roughly a bajillion drafts going (roughly) and open-ended projects (*cough*) and this and that and ALL THE UNDONE THINGS.

Also, I forgot to share a recipe. It was, like, my grand finale of Mint Month, and I FORGOT TO POST IT HERE. (I also forgot to post this recipe but it's much less exciting, and by much less exciting, I mean my result, while delicious, was extremely unphotogenic).

BEHOLD: Triple-Layer Fudge Mint Oreo Brownies.

(Yeah, and we wonder why I had to go back on Weight Watchers and make friends with Jillian. NO WE DON'T, JUST KIDDING, LOL.)


Anyway, what I was ORIGINALLY going to say, is that... expect a blitzkrieg of slightly-outdated information as I try to catch up with myself. WOO-HOO.

I was going to cram something completely unrelated to the end of this post just to cover some additional ground, but then decided against it. Into the drafts folder it shall go. Grr.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

IDK, my BFF Jill?

Does anyone else remember this commercial
Because I randomly quote it all the time and I feel like nobody actually knows what the hell I'm referencing.

I have heard horrible, horrible things about Jillian Michaels. Her name has been cursed far and wide, and while I broke down and bought myself a copy of the 30 Day Shred, it took me about a month to take off the cellophane and another couple to buy a pair of hand weights, and probably six months before I finally stuck the damn thing in the DVD player and actually tried it. I was terrified of it, and of not being able to move for days afterward, and I rather rely on my mobility in my daily life. [Note - I went over to Amazon to grab the link and it told me I purchased it on May 1, 2011. I HAVE HAD IT IN MY POSSESSION FOR ALMOST A YEAR. Le sigh.]

(Speaking of Amazon - I'm really kind of sad that I don't have that affiliate thinger off to the side anymore. Or maybe it's somewhere else. I am really hating this new Blogger interface. Apparently I can link things to Kohls now, though? That's weird. But okay.)

Turns out? I'm probably one of the few people in the world who don't hate Jillian. In fact, I actually kind of like her. Sure, there are moments where I want to collapse onto the ground and never ever move again, but her style of drill-sergeant tough-love "fuck you, I'm Jillian Michaels, you will do what I say" motivation is basically exactly what I need. Or what I can relate to. Either way, I'm not sure, but it doesn't bother me like it apparently has bothered everyone else that's ever told me about it. Like, I get where she's coming from. I understand why she tells us to do what she does. And I don't think she's mean. Maybe that means there's something weird about my own personality, but I actually am kind of.... enjoying this.

I KNOW. Something is wrong with me.

The cardio in the first circuit is usually the point where I want to give up. All the jumping, I don't know. It's hard. It's especially hard when you're already sore, or if you've come from softball practice (oh yes, I'm quite the BAMF - an hour and a half with a gaggle of middle-school girls and then I come home and torture myself with Jillian. WHERE IS MY COOKIE?! Oh wait, that's what got me into this mess.). The abs section is almost like sweet, sweet relief, because you get to lie down on your mat and not move quite so much.

I've actually turned it into a verb. To Jillian. (Example: I texted the BF earlier and was all, "I'm trying to muster up the energy to Jillian.") Once I was done Jillian-ing, I then declared myself "Jillian'd." I feel like Gretchen Weiners trying to make "fetch" happen. JILLIAN WILL BE A VERB. Come on people, are you with me?

*crickets*

Anywho. I'm using probably the pissiest hand weights on the market, but I'm basically starting from scratch here. (Everywhere. I'm starting over. When I went to weigh in last Thursday, she looks at the screen, then looks at me, and asked me if I wanted to just start over again. To which I said yes. Because I'd much rather start with a clean slate than see a gain of twenty pounds on my card.) I've got little to no upper body strength and I'm in terrible shape. The first round of cardio on Day 1, I though I was going to die. And then I didn't. And I was like, "hey, I can do this." By the third circuit, I was feeling pretty good about myself. Yes, it sucked. Yes, it was really hard. But my determination overrode everything else, and dammit, I DID IT.

Tonight was actually my third day in a row. Which not only is impressive because I've been getting more and more sore with each subsequent day (stairs suck right now. Which sucks even more because I not only live on the second floor of my building, but my desk is on the second floor of our office. Sigh) but because I've never stuck with anything this consistently before. Yes, I know, it's only been three days. And I'm not sure I'll have time to squeeze it in tomorrow, and I know the only way I'll have time Thursday is if I get up early and do it (HAHAHAHA) and then I'm out of town all weekend, soooooo yeah. I'm going to ride the momentum for all I can, though.

And, quite frankly, doing the damn workout helps stretch out said sore muscles and I can sort of move again. Until I'm done. Then I want to collapse again. I'm surprised I made it through my shower tonight.

I don't know where I'm going with any of this, other than: I am very, very surprised at how much I do not hate Jillian Michaels... and that I have yet to swear at her (I mean, I've perhaps uttered some swear words during this particular endeavor, but they were not directed at her) and I actually find that I am - dare I say it? - enjoying the 30 Day Shred.

We'll see how I feel once I move past Level 1. Hah.

In other news: I have nothing but disdain for myself when I look in the mirror, so I'm hoping between Weight Watchers and Her Highness Queen Jillian of Michaels, I start getting some sort of results, fast. I had pretty good beginner's luck with WW last time I did it, and I'm combining that with actually working out this time, so... yeah. I'm really quite tired of hating myself. I also would like to be able to take off about ten pounds before Vegas. If I stick to The Plan, that's actually kind of doable. I hope. It's sneaking up on me, though, so maybe that's just me being overly optimistic.

I'm still not holding out any hope of getting near that swimming pool, though. People of Las Vegas: You. Are. Welcome.

[Note: this post was sponsored by absolutely nothing. I realize it kind of sounds like someone was paying me to be all WOOO 30 DAY SHRED but, alas, I am not cool enough for anyone to pay me to do anything of the sort. Though, as per usual, if anyone WANTS to pay me to be all WOOO [Insert Product Here] in exchange for some sort of compensation or free stuff, I'll totally do it. I have no qualms.]

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

I'm Back. And also: Strawberries.

Do you love how I'm all "I'm not quitting the Internet, I THOUGHT about quitting the Internet, but I'm totally not, swearsies" and then disappear for like a week? MY BAD.

Anyway I had a post written on my other laptop about all the ridiculous and hilarious things that happened to me last Tuesday (okay, "all" = "two" but whatever) but that laptop is being a little bit of a bitch, so instead, I thought I'd take the opportunity to catch you up on all of my recent food posts that I've neglected to post while I was busy being existential and shit.

I declared April to be Strawberry Month, because, hey, I like strawberries. And I had stuff I wanted to try. Turns out, strawberries conveniently are in season right now, so it's almost like I knew that was going to be happening. (Spoiler alert: I didn't. I have no idea when things are in season. I can tell you what's NOT in season right now: clementines. The ones in the stores are now like $10 a carton and they're tiny and gross-looking.)

First up, we had the Strawberry Banana Bread.




It was okay. I didn't love it. I didn't hate it, either, but I was expecting something else. Namely, banana bread with strawberries in it. This didn't have quite the dominant banana bread flavor I was expecting. No fault of the recipe, but my own misconceptions.

Next up, we had Strawberry Marshmallow Cookies.


These were okay, too. I didn't love them, but they were nice and light, and much to my panic, the BF decided to take some of them home to his mother when he went home for Easter. (THEY WERE NOT PERFECT! NOOOO!) If I'd known he was going to do that, I would have made something else - something I knew was going to turn out to my standards. I guess she liked them, though, so that's a relief.

In turn, he came home with some of her brownies, and I swear to you, they were the best brownies I've ever had. They were the perfect amount of moist chewy deliciousness, and, most notably, had this perfect flaky top that I didn't even know was possible to achieve. I'm not a brownie expert by any means, but damn. These were amazing. Pure perfection in baking.

In other news: the bar has been set high for baked goods. SIGH.

Anyway, these cookies were all right, but the marshmallows weren't enough. I think they need chocolate chips. Whether those are white chocolate chips or chocolate chocolate chips, I'm not sure. I think I'm going to try making them again, and split the batch in half and try both. FOR SCIENCE!

Currently, we have Strawberry Lemon Muffins.
Note: link won't be functional until 7am on 4/25. 


I was really impressed with these. Like I mention in the post, though, I have a particular weakness for lemon. Which is weird, because I don't like lemons by themselves or in my water. But everywhere else, I love them. If it has lemon in the recipe name, I'm probably all over that shit like... I don't know. Things that are on things.

I made these again the other night, using blueberries instead. The blueberries did a much better job of holding their own against the lemon flavor, so I think I like that version better. Bonus: I was in such a hurry to make them the second time around that I TOTALLY FORGOT THE EGGS. I didn't realize it until we'd eaten, like, half of them and I was going to make a comment about how they were totally healthier because I'd used only egg whites and, wait, fuck, I missed that step this time. THEY TOTALLY TURNED OUT FINE. I don't recommend doing that, but... I lucked out there. I really have no idea how this didn't turn into an unmitigated disaster, but they baked normally and tasted really good. So... weird.

I think I might do blueberries next month. I hadn't planned on doing them until, like, July or something, but they appear to ALSO be in season, and now that I'm (sort of) paying attention to such things, might as well. Coming up: raspberries, lemon (of course), and peaches. Then September will be apples because I am a walking cliche, and then... WE'RE BACK TO PUMPKIN!!!

You know what would be fun? To just take a couple days off and have a baking marathon. That would be awesome. My muffin top would not approve of this. Nor would Jillian Michaels. Yes, that's right. After having purchased the 30 Day Shred months and months ago, I finally popped it in yesterday after a self-loathing-induced binge (remember: back on the wagon!). After I didn't die during the first circuit, I decided that I could totally do it. And I did! And I wasn't terribly miserable today except for when I had to take the stairs. Which happens a lot because I live on the second floor and my desk is on the second floor of our office. Woe.

I did it again tonight and while the workout itself seemed easier (maybe because I knew what to expect?), I hurt a lot more afterwards.

And now I'm sitting here with a head full of hair dye because while part of me wants to return to my "natural" blonde state (see: tiny little square picture over by my bio), I can't justify the cost of having it professionally stripped and re-dyed because, hi, Vegas is next month and I'd rather spend money there. I also can't justify leaving it in a rooty state because of the aforementioned Vegas trip and other upcoming photo ops (I think I'm having my employee photo retaken this week too because I hate mine. I like the original one from 2008 better because my face looks thin, but my hair looks ratty. The last one that I had taken, my hair looks nice but my face looks lumpy. UGH. If I had managed to, you know, not gain twenty pounds back, I'd be much more pleased about the impending retake. But dammit, at least my hair will look good. I hope. I'm changing the color slightly. It was getting too red, I'm hoping to take it down a notch or two to auburn.)

And now you've read this post and are sitting there going, "maybe she SHOULD have quit the Internet, LOLZ." To which I say: TOO BAD, THIS IS WHAT YOU GET. Also I think I'm approaching 700 posts or some shit so I'll probably do a giveaway or something. Because I enjoy the attention. And I like giving things away. I'm kind of like Oprah. Only significantly poorer and less successful.

In other news, I hate the new Blogger interface. They tried to pull it out once before but gave us the option to use the old one. NO SO MUCH, anymore. Seriously. Do people not realize how much their users hate it when they do this? DO THEY NOT PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT HAPPENS WHENEVER FACEBOOK CHANGES ANYTHING?! Honestly.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Why I've Considered Quitting the Internet

Now, now. Let's not be hasty here. I'm not ACTUALLY quitting the Internet. That would be, like, quitting eating. I mean, sure, I need to learn some portion control and reflect on my consumption habits, but it's not something I could just... ignore forever.

I've been doing a lot of introspection lately. I got hit hard upside the head with the existential crisis stick and I'm trying to find my bearings. Somewhere along the way, I've lost myself. I look in the mirror and I barely recognize what I see. Maybe it's the red hair. It looks great, I've gotten lots of compliments on it, but underneath, I don't really feel like myself. My roots are currently an inch long, and they're blended just nicely enough that I don't feel compelled to re-color it yet. I'm not sure I'm going to. I know it would cost roughly an arm and a leg to have the red stripped out and it colored back to my natural shade or perhaps a slightly brighter tone of blonde (maybe highlights?), but... I feel like it's symbolic, in a way. Back to basics. Back to my mental picture of myself.

Beyond that, though, I'm exhausted. I feel like I've been out playing society's game for so long that I don't know who I am or where I'm going. Maybe I never really knew; when I was young, all I really knew is that I wanted to be a Writer of Books when I grew up. I'm twenty seven. Do you know how many books I have written? Zero. I started blogging as a way to write again, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't help me through some of the toughest times in my life. I'd also be lying if I said it hadn't enriched my life in ways I never could have imagined. I've met some of the greatest people in the ENTIRE WORLD via blogging and Twitter and networking and all of that. Hell, I'm on my way to Vegas next month for a repeat performance of blog lovefest. I love the Internet and the majority of the people on it.

I've also wasted a lot of time - on meme sites, on reading blogs, on *cough* sites like Pinterest. Sure, they serve a certain entertainment purpose, but where are they getting me? I don't know. I'm pretty sure, though, that I could find better ways to utilize my time.

My problem, I've concluded, is that I've started thinking about... the future. (OH GOD!) Where do I see myself in ten years? Five years? Next year? I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA, and for the first time, that's starting to scare me a little. I have no plan. How does a formerly driven, Type-A, obsessed-with-success gal like myself even begin to operate without a plan?

Answer: she gives up.

I've been treading water for ages now. I began to question everything. What was the point of this, what was the point of that? Am I moving forward? No, but, well, at least I'm not moving backward... am I?

I had a startling realization the today when it was pointed out to me that this blog comes up as the #3 result when searching for my full, real name. I used to try pretty hard to keep my full name off of it, mostly to hide from my real-life acquaintances, because, let's face it, shit gets pretty personal around here. I've gotten a bit more lax about that, and it shows. I've gone further down the rabbit hole. I live an online life, but whether that was by choice, by accident, or by merely being a product of my generation, I don't know. 

Part of it is the industry I work in. The advertising and creative and marketing agencies of the world have fully embraced digital media - because they have to. It's the way to stay relevant. And if I want to advance or, God forbid, eventually change jobs - I have to be savvy in that arena. *I* need to stay relevant. And I've fully embraced the wave of social media and digital everything. But I'm starting to wonder, now, about how far that goes, and when/where/if I need to pull back.

The Internet has given me the opportunity to do the one thing I've always wanted to do: write. I've even found a bit of an audience, which I could not be more grateful for. A writer writes, not just because s/he has to, but because s/he has something to say, a story to tell, a truth to share. If it falls on deaf ears, then the writer isn't communicating, and it feels like failure. When I was little, I would FORCE my short stories ("books") on anyone and everyone. They were terrible and, in hindsight, embarrassing, but at the time, I was proud of it. Here is this thing, this finished thing, that I created. Having someone read it was validation of my very existence.

I'm digressing.

In the questioning of The Point, I settled on not only this blog, but all the platforms. The point of this blog is to write. Simply, to write. For that, I will not give it up, even if sometimes I feel like I have nothing to say. It's the only thing linking me to what was once my dream, and it's a sad, sad day when you let your dream die. Facebook? Twitter? Google+ (haha, just kidding)? It's a tone-downed version, kind of a mini-blog but not really. A life chronicle, a living scrapbook. One that I'm very careful with, most of the time. If it's not something I'm comfortable having EVERY LAST ACQUAINTANCE of mine know, I don't post it, I don't say it. I have coworkers and extended family members and, sometimes, clients, all part of my friend base. (I like to operate on the Grandma Hypothesis: if it's not something you'd want your grandmother to read, don't post it. Or, at least that's what I keep in mind, and sometimes ignore it anyway. Grandma, if you ever happen to find this, I am truly sorry and yes, I do swear this much in real life). I have people in there that maybe aren't as enlightened as me and will cast judgment upon me and my interests and choices, even though I've learned that what other people think sometimes means precisely dick. I try to not post anything that will put me in any sort of danger (I've been lucky, so lucky, knock on wood, on the not-having-a-stalker front - I know it happens far more often than it should, and by having an online personality, I'm almost asking for it - but, I try to be careful.) I only accept people in that I know. Even then, I'm taking that level of trust with a grain of salt... sure, we've hung out in the past, but do I really know you? Maybe I'm still pretty naive. Pretty idealistic. Is that a bad thing? I don't know.

At which point does networking become too much? I'm building the very best social network I could possibly have, one I never would have even guessed I would have been able to have, but I'm too lame to ever want to utilize it. I hate feeling like I'm using people, or taking advantage of them. Maybe someday, it will become absolutely necessary, and on that day, I will be glad it's there. I'm half-assedly building a brand, building a name, so that... again, ultimately, I can achieve my #1 goal: write, publish, sell a book. Maybe two. Maybe a whole bunch. I feel like an asshole admitting that I'm hoarding a network to possibly use for my own personal gain someday, but... I'm not using them for any gain right now, other than simply to connect to other people. 

The other big point, here... I find myself, now, as part of a team, with the BF that I have neglected to tell you much about. He's a very private person and is VERY wary of the Internet. I haven't even posted pictures to facebook because I am trying to gauge his comfort level with that. Sure, he has a facebook account... everyone does. It's expected. And I suspect it makes him a tad bit uneasy having a girlfriend who splays her life all over the Internet. It's a balancing act, of course - how personal do I want to get on here? I don't tell you everything, but there is a certain level of personal sharing that happens here. How much do I tell you? That's a question that every single blogger asks themselves at some point or another - because you have to. You HAVE to set that boundary for yourself, whether you decide to share a lot or a little, but it's a decision you have to make. Without it, you're flying blind, and it can get you in to trouble. So I'm trying to err on the side of caution... my side of caution being a bit on the opposite side of the spectrum of his. It makes him a bit nervous, and I don't blame him. I'm questioning even writing this paragraph, but I guess, ultimately, I just want to state it so you know: he's wonderful and I adore him, and just because I don't talk about him, doesn't mean anything otherwise. It simply means I am trying to respect his privacy. 

It would be easy to be all, "in order to make this the easiest for everyone involved, I'm just going to shut everything down and live entirely off the grid, so we can go romp off into a meadow full of wildflowers and live happily ever after" - but what would that serve? I know that there is a degree of change and compromise that goes along with any sort of relationship worth having, but I don't want to be the type of girl that gives up everything just for the guy she's with. Because what happens if/when he leaves me? I'll have thrown away the things that used to make me, me, and I'll be even more lost than I am now. I'll be honest, though - the weekends where I do completely unplug... they're refreshing. I'm having more and more of those. A year or two ago, I would have been twitchy and nervous, being away. But the world goes on without me, and frequently, doesn't need me. Everything is waiting for me on Monday when I get back. It's not that I care any less, except... I kind of do. I kind of like living off the grid. I kind of like living my offline life. I no longer feel like I need to apologize when I disappear. I'll always come back. I need to make my peace with having filler sometimes - not every post will be a pinnacle of fine writing, because it seems like that's all that I've got left in me these days, is filler. Except for big posts like this that nobody will read because they are too damn long. I don't want to sabotage this place, because I might need it someday. (Again, that feels selfish, like I am using you, each and every one of you that read this, and that makes me feel dirty inside.) Fuck, I don't know. To unplug, or not to unplug? To stay uber-connected, or to relax the death grip on my network? To stay in the fast lane, or to slow the fuck down and smell those proverbial roses? 

It's not just about that relationship, either, as important as it is to me. It's about all of them. Friends, family, employers, coworkers, clients. I need to think about where I'm going, how I'm going to get there, and how much of an effect this online presence is going to have on it. How much am I willing to change myself in order to reach those big goals? Is this blog helping, or hurting? Is facebook helping, or hurting? I don't have the answers to that. There is no one-size-fits-all answer, either. Because it's different for everybody. But for me, here in somewhat smallish-city Iowa, with somewhat conservative family members and a somewhat conservative-ish employer and a very special boy who doesn't really share my fondness for this particular bit of culture - maybe it's not the best fit for my future Life Plans. Maybe I'm piecing together two different types of lifestyles - maybe I'm going to have to make a choice. Maybe, just maybe, I can find the happy medium between the two. Hell, I don't know. Tomorrow, I'll probably have an entirely different outlook on the situation. I'm fickle like that.

Today, though, I'm still a bit unsettled about how accessible I've become, about how much of me is out there, about what implications that might have. Right now, I think it's fine. But it's something I need to think about, especially as I make some sort of attempt to plan my career and my life.

Additionally, and totally irrelevantly, I worry about future generations. They have no boundary. They don't even know there IS a boundary. The stuff they will post makes me physically cringe, and I want to shake them. It's not only because they are unaware of the implications it could/would have on their future... but they're painting themselves in such an awful light. It undoubtedly affects their present. It affects how they are viewed. I know I look down on them, even though I'm only slightly older and slightly more matured. I guess the difference is, I grew with the Internet. I was around when it became mainstream. I've watched the technology change, and I was able to jump in at the right times. Kind of like playing double-dutch jump rope. I knew how to hop in without getting tangled up in the process. They were born jumping, and they don't know anything but the rhythm of the ropes. They don't know there are people on the sidelines watching their every move. They don't know that it's possible to trip.

Unexpected metaphor is unexpected!

Fuck, I don't know. I have some questions for you people:

1. How does having an online presence affect your life/career/ambitions? Does it? How connected are you?

2. Those of you with non-bloggy or non-Internetty significant others - how does that work? How do you find that balance? Is it something you've talked about? 

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Back to Fat Camp...

I have a confession to make. It’s not really a confession, per se, because it’s probably really fucking obvious, but… I’ve gained back almost all of the weight that I lost last year.

At my peak, I was down 32 pounds, in the stretch between February and October when I’d been really good at following the Weight Watchers plan – Thirty two pounds without even much of a concentrated exercise effort. It came from mostly a modified diet and eating habits alone, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. I still had another ten to twenty pounds to go to get where I really wanted to be, but I was content to maintain at that thirty-pound mark for a while. My clothes fit, and that was enough for me.

Then I started baking more. Then it was the holidays. Between pumpkin-flavored everything (a lot of it birthed into creation by my own hands and my own oven) and incessant eating with the family, I kind of threw in the towel and went, “fuck it.”

After the blitzkrieg of holiday binge-eating, I apprehensively stepped back on the scale. I’d slowly been adding on little partial pounds here and there, but I breathed a huge sigh of relief when my total net gain was under ten pounds. Sure, it sucked, but it was manageable, and I hadn’t unraveled too badly. I went back to my TKD classes a few times and convinced myself that I was going to get back on track.

I bet you can guess how well that went.

While we had a mild winter and I didn’t get smacked over the head with a debilitating round of Seasonal Affective Disorder this year, I was still sluggish and unmotivated and, goddammit, I like food. I started eating out a lot more and caring less what I put in my face. Dessert? Don’t mind if I do.

So I’m back up twenty pounds.

Each day, a little more self-loathing crept its way in with each glance in the mirror. There were more outfit changes in the morning than usual, as I put something on that suddenly didn’t quite look so good. I’d feel guilty about eating ANYTHING, which led to more emotional eating or stress eating, and I can’t seem to quite get past that mindset of “I’m broke, therefore, when there is free food to be had at the office, I MUST EAT IT.”

Cupcakes do not help one’s waistline.

This all culminated last night when I finally had a bit of a meltdown while curled up on the BF’s couch. I’m really not sure where it came from, other than that I’d been stressed out to my breaking point anyway (see also: Kelly’s inability to say no to anyone and thus overloaded calendar) and I’d seen my reflection just one too many times, and the visible muffin top with a fleece jacket that was supposed to HIDE that muffin top was just too much.

It was ridiculous. There are worse things to be upset about other than, well, being fat. I’m not even fat, really. Just overweight for my frame size. But that’s not what it feels like. It feels like failure, that I can’t manage to be thin and pretty like I’m “supposed” to be. That I managed to unravel all of my hard work from last summer. That I’m STILL not going to be able to wear a bathing suit in Vegas because I hate myself just as much as – if not more than – I did at this point last year.

The boyfriend, to his credit, should probably be nominated for sainthood. He didn’t look at me like I was crazy; rather, he sat there quietly and handed me tissues. He shushed my constant apologizing and gently prodded at me to tell him what was going on my head, keeping me in a constant supply of hugs and cuddles. He’s said repeatedly that he doesn’t care what I look like, but I want to be pretty for him, you know? But also for myself. So I don’t cringe when I look in the mirror. So I don’t hate myself when I eat a cookie or two. So I can wear those cute things that are sitting in my closet waiting for me to fit back into. So I can find some of that confidence I was slowly starting to get back last year.

All of that to say, I’m back on the point-counting bandwagon and thanks to their 2012 system revamp, I get three less points than I did last time around, and it’s 5:30 and I’m already out of points for the day. Which means that I’m starving and I’m probably going to be cranky all week, but I did it before, so I know I can do it again. It’s going to be tedious and annoying and I’m going to hate every second of it, but if I start looking at it in terms of “one day at a time” rather than “OMG I CAN NEVER HAVE A CHEESEBURGER AGAIN EVER” then I think I might be better off. It’s the prospect of having to calculate every single thing I eat for the rest of time that makes it daunting and makes me want to give up before I even start.

Also, I signed up for a 5K in June, so I need to get my ass in shape anyway. I’ve started going on long walks again, so I’m getting “warmed up” but I need to start running soon because lord knows it’s going to probably take me UNTIL June to be able to run the full distance. On the bright side, if I start running AND watching what I eat, I might be able to pull myself back into my mid-2011 weight in no time. I did buy a bathing suit top (need to find a bottom piece that shows as little of my ass as possible) at Target a few months ago that isn’t horrendous, but… I make no promises that this will be the year that it sees daylight. Someday, maybe.

Anyway, I need to head out, time to go coach some kidlets on how to play softball. I wonder how many points it would be if I chewed off my arm right now…

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Special Delivery!

Remember how, last year at BiSC, the good people at Skyy Vodka gave us each a bottle of dragonfruit-infused vodka? Like an honest-to-God FULL SIZE BOTTLE? (I was expecting, like, a minibar size. A sampler. But no. A FULL SIZE BOTTLE.) And remember how I couldn't take it with me on the plane (but fortunately found a good home for it with Simone)? And remember how I was sad? So very sad? Especially afterwards, when everyone was all, "OMG IF YOU MIX THIS WITH JUICE IT'S THE BEST THING SINCE SLICED BREAD THE INTERNET WAS INVENTED!"

This year... not only is Skyy sponsoring us again, but they changed up their MO slightly...


THEY SHIPPED IT TO MY FRONT DOORSTEP.

Well, mostly. FedEx kept trying to deliver it while I wasn't home, so I had to go chase it down and pick it up myself, before they did something horrifying like returning it to the sender.


You can probably imagine how exciting this is, right? IT'S TOTALLY EXCITING.

Except I'm not really sure what to do with Coconut Vodka. I mean, clearly some sort of tropical drink concoction is in order, but... hmm. They did helpfully include some drink recipes, but my brain keeps yelling at me to try to figure out a way to make a piƱa colada, somehow, some way. I still haven't tried it yet (I've been drinking a lot less lately... my age is starting to catch up with me and my tolerance is pretty much next to none existent anymore) but I am determined to get good use out of this.


The other exciting thing? This isn't even on the market yet. It's so brand shiny new that Skyy doesn't even have it included on their website alongside the other Infusions flavors.


Pretty bad-ass, no?

Anyway, enough gushing. Peoples of the Internet: tell me what to mix this with! I need your help!