So last December I hit the bit 4-0. Not a big deal as age doesn't really bother me. SO had a wonderful surprise party for me and life carried on.
Then in January it slowly started to happen.
Things began to change in the ole body. Weight was gained, menstrual cycles got waaaay messed up, knees stopped working. WHAT THE HELL?!?
Apparently my entire system has decided to slow down or speed up in the past four months. Of course the systems I want to slow down sped up and vice versa. Damn karma, she's such a bitch.
Went to the Dr.'s and said: Menopause? Cancer?
She said: Blood tests, internal examinations, ultrasounds inside and out (yeah, those are fun NOT).
I said: So, wazzup? I'm going into early menopause and will save thousands on feminine products!
She said: Old Age.
I replied: That sucks.
She said: Welcome to 40.
So apparently now my awesome metabolism has crossed it's arms and is pouting in the corner and now I'm going to actually have to do some form of exercise (ex-cer-siz, I am unfamiliar with this word) in order to not reach maximum capacity. None of my summer clothes fit. That sucks. I look in the mirror and realize that I am completely unhappy with myself.
The cycle is as follows: I look in the mirror and hate the way I look so I eat which settles in a protective layer around my waist which means my clothes don't fit which makes me look in the mirror and not like what I see.
So how do I fix it?
Ephedrine? If I could I would, but sadly it has a few adverse side effects.
http://www.ephedrinehcl.ca/pseudoephedrine-vs-ephedrine/30/
Stop eating? Not a chance, I like my food and snacks.
Alcohol? Excellent option, and would be my top choice but my job requires me to be completely sober (which sucks on so many levels, no liquid lunches for me.), so although they can't fire me for being chubby, being drunk is a game breaker.
Lipo? I'm no gold digger and have a distinct lack of funds.
Self-Lipo? Yes this is apparently done by people. I don't think the SO would appreciate my using of the wet/dry shop vac for this (and let's face it, I'd probably forget to empty it out and that would be disgusting).
http://www.cosmeticsurgeryguru.com/self-liposuction/
So I guess since I don't really want to change how I eat (completely), the only other recourse is (shudder) exercise. I don't even want to loose much weight, I just need to tone up and be able to fit into my 6's again instead of the 8/9's I'm currently inhabiting (and now the SO knows why I don't get rid of clothes that don't fit any more).
I've been coerced into running a 10K in September so that training should start this week. Ran a 1/2 marathon last May and haven't run further than up the stairs since.
Yoga classes have been paid for and even attended but I realize that I'm not going to get much weight loss/body firming from that.
So, I'm up for suggestions to what works for you, but keep in mind that I hate the gym (HATE isn't a strong enough word) and motivation comes in very small doses (usually right before I get ready for bed which is not the opportune time to exercise). Oh, and I want fairly fast results (of course, who doesn't right?).
So I'll be adding Oat Bran (gag, gag) to my meals to encourage the fat to exit via the south end and electric shock therapy to retrain my brain away from snacking, junk food and random over eating. Why or why don't carrots taste as good as Cheetos? They're both orange!
I'll keep y'all posted on what happens, but I have a dress I'd like to wear in September that fit me in January and doesn't now so that's a goal (I guess).
Getting old sucks. Just sayin'
Mel
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
Thursday, 22 March 2012
ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?!?
So I'm pretty sure that spring brings all the freaks out from under the porches they reside under. What I don't understand is why the hell do they have to talk to me?
I'm out mailing some letters today, enjoying a beautiful sunny afternoon and decided to go to a local coffee establishment for their frozen cappuccino treat to reward myself for being awesome.
The local coffee watering hole is, unfortunately, infested with the crème de la crème of small town Ontario royalty. The heroin chic, three-toothed, tattooed "gangsta's" (aka baby daddies) with their baggie shorts and showing stained underwear waist bands, tramp tatted hosebags wearing strapless tops with bras that aren't (I shit you not I'll take pictures next time), all standing around smoking cigarette's and drinking coffee that my hard earned tax dollars have provided for them. This is only a slightly more disturbing scene than the winter version where they're all wearing hoodies and flannel pyjama pants.
The other day when I walked over, dressed in my business clothes (dressed as an adult, unlike these stellar representatives of their demographic) as usual, I was auditorily assaulted by the mating call of the white trash scrouts, "Hey baby" complete with teeth sucking. Buddy I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, and if it wasn't for the meth clinic at the drug store on Wednesdays, you'd be crystal meth tweaking in a ditch somewhere so piss off. And oh yeah, you make me soooo hot clicking at me like I'm a horse. This is exuded through my body language and not actually said out loud as they are pack minded and could physically attack if provoked so I ignore them.
Today I am walking back from the post box, huge sunglasses on and striding determinedly down the street when some over dressed skinny tweaker shuffles up to me and asks if he can buy a smoke. "I don't smoke." I say, not breaking stride.
He trots to keep up with me and starts mumbling on about the weather this week, I completely ignore him and he finds another person to bother for a moment as he buys a cigarette off another dude. How do I know this you ask? Well because he purposely caught up with me to share his excitement and bounty over the recently purchased pollutant. I continue to ignore him and seriously consider pushing him into oncoming traffic. He has that psycho look in his eye that pyromaniacs get when they see matches.
I have no idea what made this guy think that I wanted a conversation with him, but I think he had other issues and couldn't read my fuck-off-it's-you-not-me body language.
I'm uncertain as to what I need to do to be less approachable. I walk incredibly quickly, don't make eye contact, wear sunglasses, refuse to acknowledge street freaks, and yet they still are drawn to me like flies to....honey. (Piss off, I know where you were going).
I'm open to suggestion as to how to discourage interactions with other of the human race. Maybe I need to get a hip holster and start packing, or carry pepper spray in my hand (actually, a summons would be better for keeping them away).
Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because I'm stuck inside all day instead of at the beach, or need a nap or a snack. Or some Midol. Maybe I'm just a bitch. That one's more likely.
I should probably take into consideration that these people haven't have the opportunities that I have and are doing the best they can with the hand they've been dealt. I should be more compassionate and accommodating and pleasantly smile and nod at the crazies, but not encourage long conversation with them. After all, they likely normally don't have anyone other than the multitudes of voices in their heads to talk too and a new, outside voice is a blessing for them. I probably shouldn't judge people by my own yard stick (one of my personal favourite comments that I use regularly with others). I should donate my time and money to services and charities which help people who have nothing better to do than stand outside of coffee shops all day instead of working for a living or getting an education (oh wait, I already pay taxes).
Maybe I should just use the drive through window.
Happy Spring!
Mel
I'm out mailing some letters today, enjoying a beautiful sunny afternoon and decided to go to a local coffee establishment for their frozen cappuccino treat to reward myself for being awesome.
The local coffee watering hole is, unfortunately, infested with the crème de la crème of small town Ontario royalty. The heroin chic, three-toothed, tattooed "gangsta's" (aka baby daddies) with their baggie shorts and showing stained underwear waist bands, tramp tatted hosebags wearing strapless tops with bras that aren't (I shit you not I'll take pictures next time), all standing around smoking cigarette's and drinking coffee that my hard earned tax dollars have provided for them. This is only a slightly more disturbing scene than the winter version where they're all wearing hoodies and flannel pyjama pants.
The other day when I walked over, dressed in my business clothes (dressed as an adult, unlike these stellar representatives of their demographic) as usual, I was auditorily assaulted by the mating call of the white trash scrouts, "Hey baby" complete with teeth sucking. Buddy I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, and if it wasn't for the meth clinic at the drug store on Wednesdays, you'd be crystal meth tweaking in a ditch somewhere so piss off. And oh yeah, you make me soooo hot clicking at me like I'm a horse. This is exuded through my body language and not actually said out loud as they are pack minded and could physically attack if provoked so I ignore them.
Today I am walking back from the post box, huge sunglasses on and striding determinedly down the street when some over dressed skinny tweaker shuffles up to me and asks if he can buy a smoke. "I don't smoke." I say, not breaking stride.
He trots to keep up with me and starts mumbling on about the weather this week, I completely ignore him and he finds another person to bother for a moment as he buys a cigarette off another dude. How do I know this you ask? Well because he purposely caught up with me to share his excitement and bounty over the recently purchased pollutant. I continue to ignore him and seriously consider pushing him into oncoming traffic. He has that psycho look in his eye that pyromaniacs get when they see matches.
I have no idea what made this guy think that I wanted a conversation with him, but I think he had other issues and couldn't read my fuck-off-it's-you-not-me body language.
I'm uncertain as to what I need to do to be less approachable. I walk incredibly quickly, don't make eye contact, wear sunglasses, refuse to acknowledge street freaks, and yet they still are drawn to me like flies to....honey. (Piss off, I know where you were going).
I'm open to suggestion as to how to discourage interactions with other of the human race. Maybe I need to get a hip holster and start packing, or carry pepper spray in my hand (actually, a summons would be better for keeping them away).
Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because I'm stuck inside all day instead of at the beach, or need a nap or a snack. Or some Midol. Maybe I'm just a bitch. That one's more likely.
I should probably take into consideration that these people haven't have the opportunities that I have and are doing the best they can with the hand they've been dealt. I should be more compassionate and accommodating and pleasantly smile and nod at the crazies, but not encourage long conversation with them. After all, they likely normally don't have anyone other than the multitudes of voices in their heads to talk too and a new, outside voice is a blessing for them. I probably shouldn't judge people by my own yard stick (one of my personal favourite comments that I use regularly with others). I should donate my time and money to services and charities which help people who have nothing better to do than stand outside of coffee shops all day instead of working for a living or getting an education (oh wait, I already pay taxes).
Maybe I should just use the drive through window.
Happy Spring!
Mel
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