I want a cookie so bad. A great big chewy peanut butter cookie.
Beer too. Want/need a beer.
The scale has not tipped in my favor this week. My weight has not changed since Saturday. It’s actually up a pound from this time last week. I want to say that I’ve been super good about food, but when your kid shoves a mini Famous Amos cookie in your face you eat it. He did that twice on Monday. Aside from that though I’ve been good. No beer, no soda, fat free milk in my lattes. I’m hitting my macros every day. I can do this.
Yesterday I went in for the Infrared Body Wrap. It was basically a vinyl cover that emitted heat. The whole process was 45 minutes and incredibly relaxing. The weight of the cover, plus the heat made for an easy nap. I came out feeling relaxed and ready to go on with the day. I can’t say that it actually did anything. I didn’t sweat, but I don’t normally, even at the gym. I get the impression you have to do it multiple times for multiple weeks before seeing any actual results. They claim the average person burns 900 calories but I can’t attest to that. I would actually do it again, if I had $95 to randomly throw at people for a nap.
Only three days left to final weigh-in. Hit the gym for a brief set of Tabatas and a little run. Then I got to change a leaking, poop diaper. Kids, man. Gym tomorrow and work. Gym Sunday, weigh-in, work, then pizza and beer.
Goal is still 170 lbs on Sunday; 168 will put me at 10% weight loss. I won’t win or even place, as I was told the top three women are all already at 20%. But goals are important to me and one of my teams still has a chance at placing in the top three.
Weigh-in: 175.0 lbs
We’re in the final week of Biggest Loser and I’m feeling pretty proud of myself.
I’m also feeling like a bit of a grump because I have cut calories to around 1100 a day, cut most carbs, and refuse to have a beer until Sunday. (Please hold out, please hold out, please hold out).
In the second half of the program I have done better than expected. My diet still isn’t great. I’m not hitting the targets that my trainers would have liked me to. But they can suck a rock. Those diets suck and I’m a healthy and mostly happy individual. I’m more active than I have been in years and I’m losing weight at about 1.5 lbs a week. It’s not the 2-3 lbs a week they would like to have seen, but remember, I wasn’t in this for the extreme weight loss.
I am definitely getting stronger, which means more muscle, which means the scale is a bullshit judge of success.
In saying that, however, I am one of the more successful members of my teams. I’m seeing a better weight loss than most members. I am seeing a huge improvement in strength and endurance. My trainers are very happy with my progress in class and I have been class MVP twice!
On Thursday, I am doing an Infrared Body Wrap as a last-ditch effort to make my final goal by Sunday. I have two free sessions from the whole MVP thing and while it sounds like bullshit, it is free. I do this for Science! There will definitely be a report back on results.
Only seven days remain. My final goal is 170 lbs at Sunday’s final weigh-in. I’ve got my mind-set and I know I can hit that goal. If I can push it to 168, that will put me at 10% weight loss in the 12 weeks.
Saturdays weigh-in: 175.6 lbs. Longest plank time recorded at 1:50!
This may be the lack of calories talking. Or the lack of adequate beer consumption. Maybe it’s the sore pecs and hamstrings. Maybe I’m just in a hungry, in a pissy mood, and want to bitch. But for real, fuck the janky chinese restaurant down the road.
My husband grew up getting take out from the place, they’re less than six blocks away, and he’s been on this chinese food kick lately. Honestly, their food is mediocre on it’s best days. The chicken is gristle and rubber, and most of every thing I have ever ordered has been greasy and overcooked. This is a place you go if you want “the worst leftovers in Madison.”
But my husband loves it and tonight I caved and they screwed me.
No, I didn’t check the bag before I left. Yes, I could totally pack it up and go back and demand they fix it. But you know what. I’m crabby. I’m tired. I didn’t even want it in the first place. He’s craving it, I’m like “fine, I’ll get some fried rice, that sounds good actually.” I get home and I have soggy Crab Rangoons.
I fucking LOATH Crab Rangoons. If I wanted fried cream cheese and fake crab– You know what, not even worth the thought. I don’t ever want fried cream cheese and fake crab. I have never and will never understand the appeal of fake crab, no less fried into a greasy, soggy lump.
So now he’s gaming with the boys, eating his General Tso’s and I’m seething on the internet, debating what I can concoct out of my fridge to get through the night without killing someone.
Weigh-in: 174.6 (Gastrointestinal bugs will do a favor for the scale)
Last week was a rough week and I fell backwards a little bit. Didn’t gain any weight, didn’t lose any either. I’ve hit the plateau.
This morning my trainer and I discussed pushing it the next theee weeks. I’m going to give it a go. Four trips to the gym this week, five in week 11 and 12. This includes an additional personal training appointment on Thursday’s and with some scheduling luck an MX4 class mixed in.
Need to watch the diet as well. I know I said I was going to stick with portion control and not go extreme diet, but my goal is 2.5lbs a week until the final weigh in. That means cutting out the crap and the excuses.
I should be able to pull this off until at least Friday.
Here goes nothing.
Weigh-in: 179.8lbs Jeans got a little tighter in the waist this weekend.
Some days you have a solid workout. Hit your target reps. Increase your weights. Lose a few pounds on the scales.
And then some days you take a 12 pound medicine ball to the face.
Today, I took a 12 pound medicine ball to the face. My own fault, really. I was starting my second set of four in a four part circuit. I grabbed my 12 pound medicine ball and slammed it into the ground as hard as I could, and next thing I know I’m checking to be sure I have all my teeth and recovering my thankfully-still-in-tact glasses from the floor.
Apparently I grabbed the wrong medicine ball.
I’ve done ball slams a hundred times and never had the ball come up more than a few feet, so the fact that it bounced right back into my face was a shock.
After the initial nausea, the sudden yet not fulfilled urge to vomit, and a few minutes making sure I wasn’t going to pass out; I collected my things and drove my damaged ego to urgent care.
Turns out you don’t need stitches on the inside of your lip. Even though I split it wide open and spent the entire drive applying pressure to keep myself from swallowing a quarter of my own blood supply. Okay, that’s an exaggeration.
The only thing that hurts more than my mouth is my pride. Well, these things happen. Won’t keep me from going back on Wednesday night.
Weigh-in: 180.8 (Curses weekend! I was 179.4 on Friday!) Jeans fit great, but I’ll be going through some extra lip gloss the next few days.
P.s. It is impossible to get a good photo of the inside of a split lip without causing yourself extreme pain.