Namaste, Bitches

by Lime Fly Photography

It's a new year. 2013, you guys. I'm feeling so old suddenly.

The usual body and mind resolutions that are so prevalent come January have taken hold of my household. I wouldn't say we've done anything revolutionary, but this year we decided to focus on overall health, which means less of a focus on weight and numbers and scales and mass restrictions. (This, for a life-long, chronic dieter like me is, needless to say, a challenge.)

For years I have aimed for massive weight-loss each January, like the one I had when I was a senior in college, never really coming to terms with the fact that it just won't work this time. It's a hard habit to break; this desire to drop a quick 20 lbs. can be all-encompassing, and even now - 21 days after the implementation of my new, healthful mentality - I am struggling to resist the urge to jump on Medifast.com and order another $300 worth of food that will get me to my goal faster, easier. I'm not allowed to do that this time around. Just ask my handler/boyfriend. He's on crash diet watch.

I'm tackling my body-reawakening in installments, and so far it's been going wonderfully - as far as my strength, endurance, and flexibility is concerned.

Right after the new year changeover, I started up with Jillian Michael's "30-Day Shred" again. This is ol' reliable for me. I've started the 30-day challenge countless times, but have never stuck with it long enough to get a mastery of Level 2 and comfortably situated in Level 3.

This has been slow and steady, because in addition to starting up with Jillian again, I did a 2-week unlimited trial period at a local yoga studio, called SunSpark, in Old Towne Orange. I debated for a while whether I was going to do it, because after the 2-week trial, the monthly unlimited fee is substantially higher than simply joining a gym; I've had quite a few friends and relatives tell me that paying extra for a fancy yoga studio experience wasn't going to be worth it.

Now that my two weeks are over, I must disagree with their assessment. While I didn't experience any weight loss, the change in my body's flexibility and strength was apparent after just one week. The studio also has classes nearly all day long, which means I can go to class whenever I feel like it. I did around 5-6 classes per week, for a total of 11 classes (the 2-week trial fee is $20), and I've enjoyed it immensely.

There are a wide variety of yoga classes to choose from, from meditative/static, to strength-focused/moderate level, to cardio-focused/active, and I was doing approximately two of each type for both weeks during my trial. My last day was this past Sunday, and I am planning on committing to a 3-month unlimited membership starting after the 1st of February. It's an investment, but I feel it's money well spent, especially considering three weeks of Medifast food ran me about $250 - the same price as three months of unlimited yoga. Four classes per week will run me approximately $4.50/class.

Not too shabby, yeah?

Tackling one month of Jillian in conjunction with beginning my foray into the yogic arts is just a part of this body/mind reformation of mine. Rather than focusing on "dieting," Jon and I both are focusing our efforts on cleaner eating and smaller portions, which means listening to our bodies and indulging only on rare occasions.

With the help and inspiration of my dear friend and ex-roommate, Barbara (who has lost an astounding 50 lbs. in the last year), I'm working on finding the proper workout/food intake balance for my body, which has been a massive struggle in past years. I'm using MyFitnessPal to track some of my food so that I know I'm at least getting enough calories to feed my new workouts, but that I also don't overindulge on fats or carbs when I shouldn't.

Balance.

My motto for 2013. For my mind, my spirit, and my body.

Does anyone else swear by yoga, or even Pilates? Any suggestions for a chubby beginner like me? How has yoga changed your body, and how long before you started noticing results?

Inquiring mind wants to know.

EDIT: At my dear sister's request, a quick update. I failed to mention in this post that SunSpark Yoga, the lovely little studio near the Orange Circle, offers an amazing (and free!) community yoga class on Sunday nights. It's an "all levels" course, and the instructor changes from week to week. I plan on going this weekend, as my interim class before I start my 3-month unlimited stint.

If you're ever in Orange on a Sunday, definitely check it out!

Order, Balance, Dresses, and Me

The other night, it was the site of this side of my bedroom that calmed me down. The lines between the pictures, the white and purple, the soft pillows... I was upset, so I focused on the wall and what we'd done to decorate this little space with the few pieces we had unpacked. As it turns out, seeing something clean, organized, and balanced can actually bring my heart rate down. Who knew?

Maybe I should bring you up to speed on my current mindset. Last year, I wrote about motivation and weight loss, coming to the conclusion that I simply didn't have the answer to getting myself on track and in shape. Looking at photos of beautiful and fit women doesn't get me off the couch like it should, and knowing that next week's weigh-in could be another colossal disappointment doesn't make turning down those Tacos al Pastor any easier.

Up until this week, things haven't changed much. To be honest with you, it's been a rough couple of months.

Since my post last year, I've gained another 10 lbs. Actually, since I moved away from Seattle in November I've gained 10 lbs. A lot of it was the holidays; a lot might have to do with unknown medical issues that may or may not be affecting my metabolism. (Birth control, perhaps?) Stress could also be a factor. What this means, though, is that whatever the factor has left me feeling deflated, frustrated, and helpless.

Naturally, finding motivation from those feelings is difficult, if not impossible.

So I asked myself again: What is the key? What is the thing that makes this lack of weight loss so hard to bear? It's not about finding a boyfriend (like it once was) or being physically weaker (if anything, my body is stronger) or seeing all those gorgeous ladies on Pinterest day-in and day-out. As these weeks since January 1st have passed with lots of work but nothing to show for it, my mood and patience has been tested.

I haven't been pleasant to be around. I pity my boyfriend and my family, often.

The other night, though, I had a breakthrough. It was a particularly terrible night, and Jon was doing his best to make me feel better, to no avail. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't know how to make losing weight work for me without spending hundreds of dollars on dietitians and personal trainers (not an option). Atkins was a total bust (3 weeks with zero results = ridiculous) and another 3 weeks on Weight Watchers proved to be a bit too lenient to get myself motivated and my metabolism boosted. And Medifast, while a sure-fire success option, is so strict and so unappetizing that I wasn't sure I'd be able to succeed like I did in college when I dropped from 183 lbs. to 154 lbs. in the course of just a few months.

So I panicked. In a big and scary way. This anxiety attack was so severe that I nearly passed out, and the panic came and went, then came and went again and again for hours. And it was during this midnight panic that I stared at my bedroom wall, calmed myself down, and came to this realization:

The memory of myself, 4 years ago, is my motivation. The memory of how good I felt is what will -- what must -- inspire me to change. The memory of once having control means it's possible to find it again.

It was clear to me that this memory is what was causing me so much pain. It wasn't other skinny girls, or seeing friends lose weight successfully when I couldn't. It was remembering how hard I worked, how happy I was, and how good I looked that made my rise back to 185 lbs. so unbearable.

It hasn't been about being "fat" (I'm not) or being "ugly" (I'm not that either) -- even though, in my less refined moments, it is what I think. What it came down to was disappointment in myself. I knew better. I have known the right ways to eat, the right ways to indulge, the right ways to move to the groove and stay active. I know how to cook healthy food.

Four years ago, I loved the person I became. The girl who spent the month of January reading 11 books, writing a one-act play that was then produced, and losing 20 lbs. to boot! The girl who spent spring 2008 walking everywhere, being productive, shopping for jeans and dresses with confidence, and indulging while always staying in control. Since then, I've lost her and that loss has been the most unbearable part of this weight gain. I've lost that control and that balance. It made me strong. Losing it has made me weak and that is, now, totally unacceptable.

So that's it. That's my motivation to get back to work and make the sacrifices I need to make. I want to see that person again, and feel how I once did: productive, happy, and in control of my body.

I want to fit into the sparkly and girly motivation dress I bought from Free People -- the one that is several sizes too small. The one that would have fit the girl from 4 years ago who worked so hard to get where she was. I want to fit into all the dresses, jeans, and jackets that constantly remind me what a huge difference 25 lbs. can make.

That is worth more than slices of pizza, sugary cocktails, and Mexican food. I can find my way back to a healthy life.

I will.

I will, I will, I will.

How?

"Anything is Possible" by Fee Harding

"When the elephant is young and relatively weak, it is tied to an immovable stick. So later, no matter how large and strong he becomes, he continues to believe that he cannot free himself. Many intelligent people are like curious elephants. They never question their self-imposed limitations." — from the film, Cold Souls, via this link.

I find inspiration all around me: in nature, in beautiful art, in music, in people that I meet and libraries of books that I see. I spend an embarrassing amount of time reading other people’s blogs, by which I find new artists to adore, discover places I’ve never been and now long to visit, and read about people who are living their dreams… or are well on their way. I feel inspired, believing I, too, can do this. I can write/travel/design/lose weight and live the life I’ve always wanted.

But then, inevitably, depression follows. I look at the inspiration that has piled up in front of me—a mountain with steps for me to climb, until I realize that there are no lamps to light the way. I cannot figure out where to begin my ascent to the top, or if I’ll ever be able to keep my footing. I am overwhelmed.

This “fall,” so to speak, from motivation has haunted me my entire life. I feel it creep slowly into my veins and take me over, and then I don’t know what to do; I don’t know if I can overcome any of my personal obstacles and take the first step towards creating a healthier and fuller future.

I remember watching Oprah many years ago (via her 20th anniversary DVDs) where she interviewed Rudine Howard, a young woman who suffered (and eventually died) from a severe case of anorexia. Actress Tracey Gold was also a guest, discussing her own battle with the disease, and what Rudine needed to do to overcome it.

Her speech was full of poetry and words meant to inspire, and her gentle urging of a woman so weak and scared was suitable for a show such as Oprah’s: “Make the little steps to fill your mind so you can fight back.” And then Rudine, through helpless tears—asked

“But how? How do you do it?”

Of course, no one had an answer. Oprah has spoken often about how this particular “Aha!” moment in her 1994 episode changed her and her show forever, calling “How?” the central question of life. When I saw it for the first time over a decade later, it changed me as well, and—for better or worse—altered the way I look at my own motivation and dreams.

Is inspiration enough? Is simply knowing that I can do something enough? Is seeing someone I admire or envy living their dreams (often doing exactly what I dream of) enough to get me to make a change? To take a risk? To try something terrifying? To question all that I’ve ever known and dive headfirst into dark and murky waters? To develop the work ethic/self-control/confidence necessary to take on my writing/weight loss/self-criticism and—finally—see that the journey wasn’t as arduous as I’d imagined?

I don’t have any answers. Only questions that stretch back in years and make my future a daunting and uncertain place.

Where does a writer who has never finished a story before get the nerve to tackle a multi-book saga? Where does a blogger without a niche or specialty belong on the web-o-sphere? Where does a girl who has an addiction to food learn to look at food a different way?

I feel just as stuck and immovable as that elephant tied to a stick in the ground; I don't see clearly the thing that's holding me back. But I want to. I want to pinpoint my self-imposed limitations and break the chain once and for all.

Then I can finally be free.

Print by Inkstomp

Morning Meadows

"Wildflower Field" print by Wild Orange Studio

I am obsessed with meadows.

That's an important fact about me.  I love meadows surrounded by trees and full of wildflowers, and I have for as long as I can remember.  My first distinct memory of a meadow that truly affected me was in the 6th grade, during my week at Exploring New Horizons Outdoor School along the central coast of California.  Aside from the gorgeous and towering redwoods that have always been natural beauties to me, there was one particular hike that our naturalist took us on that led to a wide, round, tree-lined meadow.  We were given an assignment to sit in the meadow in silence and write a poem.  No further instruction, just... write.  Write what we felt; whatever "a poem" meant to us, write it.

I have no recollection of what I wrote, but I remember my 6th-grade-brain thinking it was pretty darn good.  That poem is one of the very few "long lost things" of my childhood that I would do anything to see again.

Six years later, I re-visited that same meadow in the redwoods of Loma Mar—this time, as a camp counselor.  Even though I wasn't able to experience the calm and silence that I did in the 6th grade (no poem assignment this time) due to a crowd of rambunctious 11-year-olds, it was still as beautiful and inspiring as I remembered.

"Summer Solstice" by Ann Wilkinson

Sometimes I think that the idea of meadows, and what I've come to associate with them, is what led me to the Pacific Northwest.  Silly, of course, because there are meadows everywhere—absolutely beautiful ones all over the country.  But they mean something to me that's a little more spiritual than what they might signify for most people, and there was something idyllic and natural about the landscape of the NW that held a lot of sway over me after years and years of using meadows as my "mental happy place". (C'mon, we all have one.)

Plus, I suppose reading (okay, devouring) Twilight and The Time Traveler's Wife when I was 21 didn't help matters either.

I can't say I've run across a lot of meadows in the two and a half years I've lived here.  However, I haven't really been searching, either.  Meadows are rather elusive in my eyes, like four-leaf clovers or liberal Christians.  You'll find one when you find one.

But that all may change this weekend.  There are tentative plans to celebrate the 4th of July with a rowdy romp to Mt. Rainier... the meadow haven of the Pacific Northwest.  Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky!

Lupine Wildflowers, Mt. Rainier National Park, Washington by Daniel Ewert

There is a distinct difference between a meadow and a field.   Maybe not in definition, but I personally view fields as vast, public and loud.  They're what line the highways outside the cities, and where horses and cattle graze.  But meadows... meadows are small, private and calm.  Often, they're hidden and secret.  At least, the perfect ones are.

Meadows are my church.  They symbolize a physical space in the world that is designed for meditation and reflection.  Even without being physically in the middle of one, it is easy to mentally put myself there.

I can't imagine anything more peaceful.

"Through" by Linn Photography

"When I first open my eyes upon the morning meadows and look out upon the beautiful world, I thank God I am alive." — Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Crazy Little Thing Called Motivation

Image credit: Garance Doré

I have a confession to make.  You know that diet I started ranting about two months ago?  You remember how enthusiastic I was about switching from Atkins back to Weight Watchers?  Remember how I made it seem like losing weight was easy and I'd be a skinny hipster in no time??  (OK, maybe that last part wasn't in there.)

Yeah... I haven't been doing so well.  As usual, I can't resist the temptation of carbs and fried foods, and Hawai'i proved to be a week of terrible eating, lots of drinking, and absolutely no working out.  I even took Jillian on vacation with us!  Not only did I not workout while down there, I didn't pick it up again until this last weekend.  And obviously, our love for cocktails doesn't work in my weight-loss favor, either... in fact, I think it is very much to blame.  Well, that and my lack of willpower.

I thought for sure that wanting to look sexy in a bathing suit for our trip in April was going to be enough to get those 20+ lbs off.  I kept thinking that the impending summer and desire to wear my dresses and shorts would illicit enough energy and motivation to get me moving and shaking and all that jazz.

Photo source unknown, found via this tumblr

What I've finally figured out is this: Simply wanting to look hot is not strong enough motivation for me to lose weight.  Just looking at that >> photo should be enough to make me never want to come within 100 yards of a carbohydrate ever again!  I mean, damn, amiright?  But if it were, I'd already be a slim size 4/6 with lots of full-body photos to share and I would never use the word "diet" again.

So what's the secret?  What is the thought-formula that will snap me back into a healthy mindset and restore the self-restraint that I had senior year of college?

I don't really have an answer to this; I don't know what my Ultimate Motivation for losing weight.  But I know I want it and I'm tired of struggling.  I'm sick of feeling like I have to choose between being thin and enjoying life.  That's silly, obviously.  I absolutely love healthy food, and I revel in the way I feel when it's all I'm eating.  But junk food is a drug, and it's one I haven't quite been able to quit.

But I'm trying.  My best friend, Cassie—the one who just had a baby four months ago—has been actively dieting for the last three months... and in that time, you guys, she's lost 46 lbs.  And it's still coming off close to a pound every one or two days.  She's a  total rock star, and she looks amazing.  And what better motivation than bringing a baby into the world?  One who will soon be crawling, then walking, then running...  She's inspired me to take a look at the way I've been eating and get back to basics: calorie intake versus calories burned.  Seems obvious, but to someone who has been a fad-dieter her whole teenage/adult life, it's almost too simple of a concept.

So we'll see how this goes; just another approach to get me to my goal.  I'm collecting inspiration-pictures now, and trying to get myself motivated with plans for extreme activities and summer-fun-times.  Jon has dropped the words Warrior Dash more than once, and I fear I may be swayed by his grizzly charms.

Good night, friends.  Off to dream of eating a giant hamburger while looking hot in a bikini—which is, let's face it, my ultimate goal.

"Diet" Is a Damn Dirty Word

I've officially gone diet-schizophrenic.  For some reason, I just can't seem to get my brain (or body) to get into any one regimen and feel comfortable or successful.  The result is me ping-ponging back and forth between various diet strategies, and while the pounds are sloooooowwwwly coming off, I can feel my internal register freaking out... not to mention my brain going a little nuts.

The last 10+ years of my life I've spent dieting.  Isn't that just disgusting?  This frustrates me, because I am so head-over-heels, out-of-my-mind in love with food.  It's the best thing that Man has ever contributed to the world: complex, rich, savory, sweet, inspired FOOD.  I would even argue that it's better than music... though I might get lots of people disagreeing with that one.  Let's just agree that they're on-par with one another, yeah?

Don't get me wrong, I've had extreme success with dieting.  I was a "big kid", and I know now that I will never be a waif-like, 125 lb. model thing.  I finished up my freshman year of college at 203 lbs.  At my lowest, as a senior in college (after doing Weight Watchers for two years and then Medifast for 6 months) I was 154 lbs.  Success!  Happiness!  Joy to the world, right?

Well then I moved in with my stupid, fun boyfriend and put on 20 lbs.  "Happy Weight", I'm told.  But living with someone who loves cooking and eating out as much as I do is so rough.  On top of that, we're also avid cocktail-hunters, and Seattle is the perfect place for this.  Do you have any idea how many calories a chocolate hazelnut espresso martini has?!?  I don't know either, but from 5-7PM  they cost only $5 at Dilettante, which is just 2 blocks away.

I can't win, people.

Can't we all be fat and happy?  Can't we all agree that being thin and "fit" isn't sexy anymore?  Can't we be like the ancient Greeks who appreciated a woman with some meat on her bones?  I just want to eat Indian food, or bread and cheese and wine, or homemade pastries and cartons-upon-cartons of fruit every day until I'm fat and old and dead... Why is that so wrong??

For the last three and a half weeks I've been doing Atkins.  I wanted something extreme so that I could get as much of this excess "happy weight" off as possible before going to Hawai'i at the end of this month.  (I've long-since accepted that I won't be bikini-ready... ever.)  I'm down almost 10 lbs, which is admirable; I should be happy with that.  While not having bread has been a struggle, I was happy to start every Saturday morning with an obscene amount of eggs, bacon and sour cream.  (Seriously, what kind of diet is this?!?)  But Atkins has plateaued me, so I'm switching back to Weight Watchers officially.

I love Weight Watchers.  If you need to lose weight, suck it up and pay for WW.  Seriously.  It gives you so much freedom to eat whatever you want without feeling guilty, and it's all about just not over-doing it.  When I was dog-sitting for a friend two weeks ago, she had a bunch of those mini-Costco brownies on her counter.  I looked at them longingly, knowing if I was just on WW, I could have had one.  Or two.  Or three!  Then I was sad. Atkins be-damned; WW is a win-win. (Heh, see what I did there?)

Anyway, enough of the plug.  Next week is my 25th birthday, and I've requested that Jon take me to one of my favorite restaurants in Seattle, Delancey.  It's a little above our price range to go regularly, but we've realized that we can share a starter salad, share a pizza, and share a dessert and be totally satisfied.  That's a good choice to not break the bank, especially if you like treating yourself to some wine, like we do.

I will keep you updated on my weight-loss progress, as well as the food I will now start enjoying.

/end rant.

Short Hikes: Rattlesnake Ridge

It's officially summer in Seattle. The rain and clouds and cold have receded northward to cooler climates, so now when I look up, all I see is blue. We had to wait until after the 4th of July, but it finally arrived: Warmth. The good kind of warmth that lingers in the walls, and makes a cold breeze stop you in your tracks. The kind that makes dogs pant, and means sleeping under nothing but a cool bed sheet.

This may not be the reason I moved to Seattle, but it's the reason that I stayed.

The weather this holiday weekend was depressing, and while it was entertaining to watching neighbors battle with the rain to get their mini-grills lit, I have to admit that I've been chomping at the bit to pull out my summer dresses and flip flops. It was worth the wait. To celebrate, instead of throwing on a skirt and traipsing down Broadway, Jon and I jumped in the car with the doggies in tow, and heave-hoed-it out of Seattle to tackle Rattlesnake Ridge.

Okay, it wasn't that far outside the city—just an hour east, past North Bend. This is a hike that came highly recommended from an old co-worker of mine, and I knew that when the weather was right, and we had the time, this would be our first out-of-town hike of the summer.

I've never seen the dogs so happy. As usual, Ennis rode on my lap, watching the other cars and trees whoosh by, as Jon drove us east on I-90, past Mercer Island and Issaquah... This is the furthest east I've been since moving to Seattle, so I was excited in my own right. (If coming from Seattle, get off at Exit 32, turn right, and drive 3 miles until you get to the parking lot near the lake.) While Ennis was panting with excitement, Peekay lounged in the back like the zen-dog he is—happy and contented. We were all stoked to get out of town. Cabin fever makes us all unpleasant.

Hiking is something I've always loved, and despite looking like an epileptic with anything attached to my feet (don't ever try and trick me into a pair of skis—water or otherwise), I consider myself to be well-balanced and reliable when it comes to the strength of my own legs. I'm moderately experienced as a hiker. Next to Jon, however, I look like fish attempting to climb a tightrope. He is fast and skilled, and wouldn't blink an eye in a stand-off with Half Dome. The man owns two levels of hiking boots and three sizes of backpacking gear! Needless to say, I have a lot to prove.

I was in luck. For our first time out, hiking on a wilderness trail as a couple, I managed to pick one that ensured my dignity stayed intact. Definitely easy-to-moderate, as far as hikes go, and you'll find that Rattlesnake Ridge is quite popular, and as Jon puts it, "the definition of a well-maintained trail." There is a steady incline for 2 miles, with an elevation gain of just over 1,000 feet. Depending on your speed, it'll take you around 45 minutes to an hour, each way. Absolutely perfect for those spontaneous urges to get out of the city.

Having been cooped up for what's felt like weeks, with nothing but infrequent dog park trips to sate them, Ennis and Peekay were on Cloud Nine as we winded through the trees to get to the top of the ridge. In order to mask how oh-so-much slower I walk than Jon does, I held onto Peekay's leash so he could assist in pulling me up the hill, and while I wasn't fooling anyone, it made the hike more pleasurable and less strenuous by the time we made it to the top.

If you're a runner, this is the hike for you. The incline makes you work hard, but the dense trees give you the necessary shade to keep you cool. Running makes me tired just by thinking about it, but I acknowledge that many of you out there love doing it, and may even enjoy a sweat-inducing challenge. To each their own.

Upon reaching the top, you have two options. Three options, if you're feeling hyper-active. Four options, if you're insane. Take a moment to catch a breather and enjoy the picturesque view in front of you. Give your dog some water, 'cause he deserves it by now. (There is a little stump straight ahead, past the signs, that has a jagged piece of wood sticking straight up—perfect for attaching your dog's leash to.)

1. Go right and walk .1 miles to Rattlesnake Ledge, which gives you sweeping views of the tree-covered mountains, valley and lakes below. You'll hardly believe that you're a measly 45 minutes from a sprawling city. (We did this option, 'cause we wuz tiredz.)

2. Take a left, and continue for another 2.5 miles to East Peak. Along the way, you'll get a great view of Rattlesnake Ledge and the Lake.

3. Continue past East Peak to Grand Prospect—4.3 miles from the "fork" in the trail. By now, you might as well continue through to...

Insane option 4. Snoqualmie Point and Winery—8.5 miles from where Jon and I turned around at Rattlesnake Ledge. It is recommended, if you attempt this hike, that you park one car at the end point in Snoqualmie, and then drive to the starting point at Rattlesnake Lake. This hike would be an all-day affair, totaling over 10 miles. Someday soon, Jon and I will be insane and make a day of it.

Until then, Rattlesnake Ridge Trail served to get us out of our cabin fever funk without having to miss a meal. I'm also one step closer to proving to Jon that I can be pretty and get dirty simultaneously. More importantly, it's a day later and Ennis and Peekay still haven't woken up.