hi dearies, I forgot about It’s Blitz and oh geez what a delight. on repeat.
my Transformer: More than Meets the Eye program is going A+, and I survived the Go to a Party and Don’t Eat Snacks/Ribs/Cake or Over-Booze It Up challenge, and somehow also managed to stay awake til 2:30 in the a.m. having had only one wee cup of coffee a million hours earlier. And I had the best conversation about professional wrestling I have ever had in all my years of being an ECW editor: truly a delight. All my preconceived notions are being blown to smithereens, or crushed like a raw egg in Karen O’s hand.
Hurrah for that.
I’m working on a Writing Project, which I’m too superstitious/gun-shy/regular shy to talk about yet, but I can just feel myself wanting to run away from it so I’ll never know if I suck or not at this particular exercise. But it’s gotta suck at first. Why would I just start off being a #1 genius? Will keep reminding myself that.
Erin’s cat has been meowing at the wall, like he knows something is going on in there that we don’t know, and the ghost doorbell has been ringing and I don’t know for sure, but I might be in Act 1 of a horror film.
Heben, we made it! It is officially Day 3 and I made it thru the two days of light fasting, and am now drinking a Pumpkin Smoothie, which already feels heartier than the smoothies of yesterday. Bless, bless. (As they say in Iceland.)
Can’t tell you how excited I am to eat nuts and chicken today.
So fucking excited.
And I get a cup of coffee.
Nothing like deprivation to make normal things seem like the biggest treats in the universe. Geez.
I made it through day 1! yes, I did leave work early so I could nap away my caffeine headache and general light-headedness, but goddamn it here I am. Alive and full of vegetables.
Day started with a cayenne lemon water situation that I quite enjoyed; smoothie was okayyyy, but I’m not used to protein powder, so it was a little powdery in consistency and there’s stevia in it, which….I will get used to?? Anywho: that was the big meal, then vegetables and an apple for the rest of the day. I was surprisingly not that hungry, which is a good indicator that I was eating way more food than I needed when I was in charge of what to eat and how much. That said, I am so looking forward to eating chicken salad for lunch on Wednesday, I can’t even tell you.
I wanted to skip doing the yin yoga video this eve, but I did not, I did it and it was hard but also relaxing and great and high fives me for doing a thing.
My brain is a little dull and achy, but my mood is chipper and I’m feeling pretty proud of me for doing 1 of 28 days as instructed. And hopefully getting thru today will make getting thru tomorrow easier, cuz I know it’s legit possible for this human to survive light fasting, which is not even that light comparatively speaking.
Shout-out to Laura who had my back when my boss happened to bring my #1 favourite pie into the office for all to eat: “She can’t eat it, Jack!” Didn’t even smell it, or creepily watch anyone else eating it.
At Laura’s request: I am back to the blogging! (At least for right this second.)
I’m one sleep away from embarking on a 28 Day Transformation challenge (I hope I transform into a unicorn or cheetah), and although there is a private Facebook group for questions and venting and all that good stuff, I just might post here too about what is happening and what is effing hard.
Here’s what I think will be effing hard: two days of “light fasting.” I have never light-fasted in my life, save for when I am asleep. I keep reminding myself that I will not be Actually Fasting, that millions of people fast routinely and they don’t drop dead at their desks, and that I have a lot a lot a lot of stored-up energy in my fatty fat deposits ready for consuming. But, also, no coffee for those first two days.
It’ll be fine, right? It’ll be fine.
It will be more than fine because I am super duper sick of gaining weight and never exercising and feeling lousy. So, challenge accepted. Let’s turn this tanker around. (I say that not to be disparaging about my size; just it takes a lot of effort to turn an ocean-traversing vessel to a new direction. I am that ship. Okay, a little disparaging about my weight gainage.)
When I was a wee little kidlet, I was convinced that my grandmother was actually the queen of England and it was a secret I had to keep (along with the non-existence of Santa and God). The evidence…
My grandmother’s name was Elizabeth; ditto, the Queen’s.
She lived in Ottawa, which is the capital of Canada, and heads of state live in capitals.
She is British, born, bred, accent and all.
She was ballpark the same age.
Her birthday is on Victoria Day weekend, aka the time we celebrate the Queen’s birthday (though why we celebrate an old queen’s and not the present queen’s birthday I still haven’t sorted out).
It was ‘fancy’ at my grandmother’s house & you had to use your knife and fork properly & be as polite as possible.
She corrected you on your grammar (and to this day I strike out the “of” from “off of,” despite it now being commonplace to add the totally unnecessary preposition).
Undeniably she was the Queen of England!
In addition to her secret status as monarch, she was a schoolteacher who worked with deaf children, she read magazines in French to keep up her language skills, she learned to speak Polish (my grandpa was Polish) and participated in the Catholic church activities (despite her lack of religiousity, and his), she painted and sunbathed and was stylish and could be incredibly silly when the mood struck her. When she was a little girl in England, she rode a horse called Ginger. It doesn’t get much better than that. There are mannerisms of hers that I see my mother do, that I catch myself doing.
She was very, very old when she died last year, and her life had become not much of a life at all — her wits and wit long gone. So, for me, it felt like more of a relief than a loss when she died. But, as it turns out, grief comes whenever it pleases — months and months later, on what would have been her 95th birthday. She was my last living grandparent. She was a force.
um, hi. I stopped doing all the things I wanted to be doing for a good six weeks, two and a half months. but I’m fixing to get back into it.
Went to the nutritionist on Monday. She reminded me to prepare for the lazy days or the busy days when I’m feeling best and able (freeze burger patties! eat ’em instead of frozen pizzas on the can’t be bothered dinner days); to celebrate my successes (I do not buy flavoured yogurt anymore — goodbye bonus sugar!); and to always eat an afternoon snack so I am not so desperate for dinner. I love snacks!!
So that was a pep-up.
I also did a goodly amount of walking and swimming while on vacation and remembered how great that is, and now the weather is inching towards nice and the sun is sometimes out and goddamn winter, get gone with you.
so, Spring, hope, pep getting into step again, words being typed into this here blogging window, etc.
When I was in grade two, I used to help my teacher, Mrs. Flood, after school. [Mrs. Flood had a talking car, you guys — if you left the door open, it would say the door is ajar, which was hilarious because the door was a door, not a jar.] After school, I guess I would help her prep for classes or clean up the classroom, and one day she had me stapling something or other. I don’t remember any of that, but I remember when I stuck my little left index finger in the way of the stapler and stapled it good and hard. I was a selective mute when I was little — it is a real thing! — so I wasn’t, you know, big into talking. So I didn’t cry out or anything, I just walked over to Mrs. Flood and whispered that I had to go home. I must’ve been pale and a little sick-looking, because she asked if I was okay, and I lied and said yes and then left the school and walked to the corner and sat down on the curb and oh god there was a staple through my finger. This girl who was a few grades older than me was riding her bike and saw me and the staple and said, You’re going to have to pull that out, you know. And then she rode away. And then I pulled it out and I felt all pukey but I didn’t puke, I just walked down Radford Drive home to Barrett Crescent (which Google maps tells me is a 7 minute walk but my 6-year-old legs probably meant it was a little bit of a longer walk) and never told a soul.
I cut myself on a staple yesterday. Told a whole bunch of people.