It's 2011

This is my office. It's in my spare bedroom. Working from home is awesome.

It's also very hard and in an effort to prove myself, I work far more hours than I would be working if I still went to an office.

On the plus side, I get to wear random assortments of clothing every day and burn scented candles without fear of upsetting co-workers with delicate olfactory senses.

Speaking of the plus side, I re-joined Weight Watchers yesterday. Years ago, I had a lot of success with the plan but stopped short of my weight goal. I was looking at some old photos the other day and realized that the 10 pounds that I've put on? Yeah. It's noticeable.

Happy 2011. This year is going to be awesome, I can tell already!

Operation Beautiful

Operation Beautiful has hit Charleston. On Monday and Tuesday this week, the ladies' locker room at my gym was decorated with colorful post-it notes with messages such as "You are beautiful just as you are!" There was one on the scale that said something to the effect of, "You are good enough, no matter what I say." It was nice to see this, in a gym especially.

Too often women, myself included, become obsessed with their weight and overlook the good, beautiful things about themselves. I've been trying to lose some weight before our wedding, and the scale isn't moving as quickly as I would like. I've been really, really upset about this. Upset to the point that yesterday, as Brad and I were on a 2+ hour hike at the Kanawha State Forest, my weight was all I could think about. Rather than enjoying the hike, I was telling Brad, I don't know what I'm doing wrong! I'm working out every day! I've cut my calories back to 1200-1400 a day! I ruined a wonderful afternoon, complete with amazing views, 75 degree temperatures, my cute husband-to-be, and a happy, happy dog companion because I couldn't stop thinking about the number on my scale.

That is some bullshit.

I used to be very heavy. But I'm not anymore. And I'm not saying I won't continue to have issues with my body, continue to try to lose weight, continue to track what I eat and what I weigh. But I'm going to try to stop the negative self-talk and appreciate my body for what it is. I'm in the best physical shape of my life right now. I can run, ride a bike, do a full pigeon pose, hike up mountains. I have functioning legs, arms, lungs, a brain and a heart. My body was built to birth a child, for christ's sake. That's pretty damn amazing.

The post-its in the locker room were not there today. I was sad to see them go.

Blow to the Ego # 542

I'm not a competitive person, really. I never have been. I'm pretty content to not be the best at anything. I like to be as good as I can be, without going through too much trouble to get there.

Anyway, I went to the gym yesterday, as I have every day since I joined, in my quest to become Linda-Hamilton-in-Terminator-2 in time for my wedding. I was on the hamster wheel -- I mean the elliptical, Wu Tang in the headphones, zoning out. About 10 minutes into my workout, a 50-something man gets on the machine next to me. He starts moving and I SWEAR TO GOD we were synchronized. Then he started stealing glances at the display of my elliptical so that he could go faster than me. Whatever, I thought, maybe I'm being paranoid. I'm self-conscious almost to a fault, and I always think people are looking at me when they are not. Why would this old man need to one-up me on the elliptical? There were plenty of fitter people there if he was looking for motivation.

After my 30 minutes were up, I moved on to a treadmill. I picked the last one on the end, closest to the fans. I got myself situated and started to do some walking uphill / jogging intervals. Guess who ended up on the treadmill next to me, despite the line of empty treadmills? Guess who started running backwards on the treadmill next to me?

Suddenly, I felt like a flabby, out-of-shape loser. This middle-aged man was running backwards at the same speed which I was running forward. He wasn't one of those super tanned and muscular middle-agers, like you see in Just For Men haircolor ads, either. He looked like my dad, for god's sake. He was wearing tube socks.

Just when I'm feeling pretty good about myself, having gone to the gym four days in a row, someone comes along to remind me that I have a long, long way to go.