Impossible is a typoRunning my pants off and loving myself along the way

At Dinner the other night with BUSINESS contacts…

Being introduced to the VICE PRESIDENT of something…

“This is Amy, she wrote that sex and running post…”

“Oh yeah, Fifty Shades of Running! I loved that post!”

Well, gee, that’s just precious. I am now known as the Blogger That Wrote That Sex Post.

For god sakes, I can’t be the only one that thinks about sex while running, can I?

I mean, half the country apparently is all fired up about Fifty Shades of Grey, the Today show is even talking about a “Fifty Shades Baby Boom”.

Prepare for a Fifty Shades of Rant Sidebar

For the love of all that is literary and holy, do not read Fifty Shades of Grey. First, it’s FAN fiction based on Twilight. TWILIGHT. Twilight has to be one of the worst bits of written fluff ever to masquerade as “Young Adult Fiction” as all it illustrates is that a young women will throw themselves off cliffs if they don’t have a man in their lives and the consequence of sex is death. Second, Fifty Shades is as poorly written as Twilight. Third, OMG the sex gets boring. Fourth, OMG really? A 27 year old foster kid reject becomes a billionaire, meets, courts, woos, gets obsessed with, marries and knocks up a virtual teenager? Great, now you just created yet another impossible to achieve romance standard that normal people will never live up to. Fifth, just because you like to get spicy in the bedroom DOES NOT mean you are mentally ill. Six, for god sakes when will women stop believing that they can change the men in their lives. I know many a fag hag who learned the hard way that you cannot turn your best friend straight just because you are secretly in love with them. Seven, oh wait, this is a running blog not a blog to rant about the impossible stereotypes that bad fiction have us believe is possible (you should hear my rant on porn, but alas, that is another post).

Anyway… sex while running. I can’t possibly be the only person who thinks about sex while running, can I? Maybe I’m the only one who openly admits it. I know, I know, fantasizing about sex is in the realm of “GUYS” and not a polite thing for a woman to admit to. But there comes a moment sometimes when you’re out running and the endorphins are popping about and you are hyper aware of what your body is doing. Each breath is big and real. You can feel your hips moving in their sockets, gravity pulling down at you, your legs pushing your forward, your clothes against your body. And it’s in that kind of moment that you can love and appreciate what your body can do, regardless of its size and shape. And Oh c’mon now, duh, you think about sex right?? OK, maybe it is just me, and maybe I just need to get laid.

A new year and a new manifesto

It’s January right? So as a fitness blogger I should have my pompoms out in full in New Year Resolution Mode. Yawn. I’ve done that. I’ve ridden the New Year high to lose weight, run a 10k, blah, blah, blah. But there is something fundamental missing, not only in this resolution nonsense, something fundamentally missing in my life. Brace yourself, this may hit a nerve.

After all the work I’ve done on myself – therapy, self-help books, journaling, empowerment classes – after all that, at the end of the day, I’m still waiting for that delicious, glorious moment when I’m thin enough to finally think I have the right to think I’m pretty and sexy and when I can finally be happy.
Yup, that’s right, I don’t think I have the right to be happy because I’m not thin and because I’m not thin, I’m not pretty or sexy. You see, when I’m finally thin, all those things will just magically poof into existence.

I walk around most days thinking I’m basically invisible, no makeup on, schlummy (yes, it’s a technical term) clothes, hair like the Wild Woman of Borneo. After all, no one is going to take notice of me anyway so what does our matter? Translation – I don’t think I matter.

But what if, now this may get a little radical and scary, but what if, just what if, I claimed being sexy and gorgeous and happy as my birth right? Right now? Right this very second?. What if I made that my Excalibur to heave from the stone and raise into the air with a these-boots-were-made-for-walking kind of growl? What if I fought for THAT instead of ticks on the scale or calories saved? What if RIGHTNOW I declared I was one sexy mother fucker and lived my life that way? What would my life then look like?
See, I keep piling up all this evidence that that I’m not pretty. Like beans I toss in a jar which is about bursting at this point. I collect all these moments that provide evidence that I’m not pretty or desirable. The dates that stand me up, the boys that don’t return phone calls, the plus size jeans, the bad hair days, they are all collected and noted in my evidence file like I’m building this Hoover era dossier on why I suck. I never ever pay any sort of attention to the moments that confirm I am a hottie. I disregard them as flukes, freaks of nature, tricks of the light. Like the day three random strangers complemented my legs when I had the balls to wear a short skirt, I mean three men, stopped, turned around walked back to me just to say I had great legs and I totally blew that off as meaningless. Those moments get discredited as abnormal, aberrations, people talking crazy and obviously delusional and doing drugs.

But what if? What if I lived life right now as if I was perfect and glorious and oozing with sex appeal? What if I lived every moment as confirmation of being powerful and happy instead of hiding out and waiting for some future moment of ambiguous glory? And I’m not talking about goofy affirmations in the mirror or cheer leader pompom talks before going out on the town. What if I woke up in the morning and put my vampy red Chanel lipstick and my killer holy-crap-you’re-over-6foot-tall stilettos to work at my home office? What if I took on this manifest of keeping your head, heels and standards high? What would my life look like then?

I don’t know. But I’m sure as hell going to find out.

The past three weeks have kind of been like this…

Pump water, haul trash, FEMA guy, still pumping, plumber, clean, spill bleach, haul trash, plumber, plumber, roof guy, more bleach, waiting for insurance guy, more trash and then more trash, wait for gas, still waiting for insurance guy, wait for groceries, wait some more for gas, FEMA girl this time, plumber again and again, YAY hot water! debate the need of an electrician, more never-ending bleach, still waiting for insurance guy, trash again, all while trying to work, help the neighbors and you know, like survive living through SuperStorm Sandy’s 3 feet of water in the house, no power for 6 days and no heat for, gosh I lost count… 3 weeks?

So when offered a little retail therapy at one of my favorite shopping spots, I jumped, double time, and dragged Lil Sis along for the ride.

My un-ending love for Duane Reade is pretty legendary. Lil Sis would undoubtedly agree with me. You really can’t be a NYer and NOT shop Duane Reade at least once a week. They are literally on every block after all.

Now, I shop Duane Reade in one of two modes: 1. Leisurely strolling down the aisles, reading every product description, slipping completely frivolous items in my basket; or 2. Super Duper Power Shopping with lists, alternatives lists, price comparisons and coupons.

See, I’m not really a power shopper. I don’t usually flip through circulars and price match and compare and drive all over town to save 6 cents on frozen broccoli. Duane Reade is a little different for me because of the Balance Rewards points. It’s kind of like a game – How many points can you get in one trip?? You can get most of what you need and want at Duane Reade so why not take advantage of offers when you can? I’m in there so often, that I can wait for certain items to go on sale or have extra bonus points associated with the purchase.

So, to prepare, off to DuaneReade.com I went and scanned the online version of the Happy and Healthy circular.

DuaneReade’s Happy and Healthy Circular is a must-read

I immediately zeroed in on a few things…

What? A new line of eco-friendly green production including conditioner??

I’m not really a power shopper, and I’m not really a green, eco-product fan either. But let me tell you, after cleaning out a flooded basement with bleachy chemical nonsense leaving my hands cracked and bleeding, yeah, I think it’s about time to look at less chemically chemicals. This new Ology line looks really promising.

And then… I stumbled upon this…

A new sulfate-free, silicone-free, paraben-free hair care product. THANK YOU Duane Reade!. #DuaneReade #DRHappyandHealthy #CBias @FatGirlsCanRun

Holy Curling Iron Batman. I’m a little (nutty, obsessed, crazed) particular about my hair care products. I’ll cut to the chase because I could go for HOURS about this… but… most commercial shampoo and conditioner are terrible for naturally curly hair because of silicone and sulfates. Silicone is in most conditioners and is great for silky smooth hair, but it is TERRIBLE for curly hair. Basically, silicone coats your hair in plastic depriving it of the extra moisture curly hair needs. And since it’s basically a plastic, you need a detergent to remove the silicone from your hair. Yup, that’s right, I said DETERGENT. Go compare your favorite shampoo to your dish washing soap and the ingredients are alarmingly similar. And detergents strip everything from your hair, dirt, silicone, natural oils and hair color. Silicone and sulfates are bad bad things for your hair. ANYHOO, I get all gleeful anytime I find a new healthy shampoo to try out.

The handy-dandy shopping list feature!

DuaneReade.com has this super handy feature where you can create a shopping list as you browse and print it before you go. So I had my list, my Balance Reward card and a game plan – The game is purchase at least $20 of private name brands at Duane Reade and get an extra 3,000 points. BOOYAY!

A Duane Reade on Every Block

I met Lil Sis at the Duane Reade at 52nd and Broadway.

A shy Lil Sis browsing the Happy and Healthy flyer

I was strategic, she strolled.

Right off the bat, I met a few obstacles. No, I’m not talking about the items on my list, like Hershey’s Kisses to try out the cookie recipe in the Health and Happy flyer, that were no where to be found (One tiny problem with urban shopping, stock isn’t endless, so things do sell out). Nope, I found myself in a battle of NEED vs. Want.

Battling NEED vs Want at Duane Reade.

You see, I NEED conditioner and tea and tissues. 3 weeks with dealing with post-Sandy nonsense meant I didn’t do a lot of shopping and my essential supplies were low. But I WANTED nail polish and fancy makeup. STICK TO THE LIST.

I NEED conditioner but I WANT pretty beauty things.

One thing that was not on the list that did make it’s way into the cart was pudding. Yeah, I know, I have a weakness for Pudding. Duane Reade carries several private label brands of super tasty treats like Delish and Nice and it takes everything I have not to walk out with a bag of chocolate covered almonds every.time.I.shop. Lil Sis and I had never seen the pudding before so we snapped that up quick.

Awfully hard to get out of Duane Reade with out tasty treats.

I also discovered the Delish line of teas (Which were the Happy and Healthy Special of the week!). I think I used every last tea bag in the house. With no heat, curling up before bed with a “cuppa” after cleaning up all day was a nice reward.

Hello Tea!

One of the things I adore about the new, redone, super spiffy Duane Reads is how roomy they feel. Most shopping experiences in NYC are crowded and oddly dark.

The New Duane Reade is pretty, airy and comfy

So what did I end up with? Not a bad shopping trip, eh?

Not a bad day shopping at Duane Reade

And I totally won the Balance Reward Point Game!

Balance Reward BONUS

Duane Reade is doing some pretty fun social media stuff too. They have FourSquare QR Codes that you can use to check in and get special offers. The only codes I saw were in the basement and they didn’t work for me while I was in the store, but I’d be very interested to try it out the next time I’m in the store.

Go find Duane Reade on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube will ya?

To see more pics of my shopping adventure, check out my Google+ story!

I am a member of the Collective Bias™ Social Fabric® Community. This shop has been compensated as part of a social shopper insights study for Collective Bias™. #CBias #SocialFabric and #cbBigapple. All opinions are my own.

I’ve been silent for a while. I could tell you I’ve been busy, that my fabulous life is just so full of fabulous things that I just don’t have the time to sit down and write because, well, I’m just too buys being fabulous.

And then my Pinocchio nose would have me trapped in my office and I’d have to call 911 to come and saw it off.

Here’s the truth – I don’t feel good about myself right now. My weight is up, I’m not running and I’m very much enjoying hiding inside Chinese dumplings and pints of ice cream.

I’m in this mode of seeking comfort and little ways to make myself feel better about myself. And that usually means Chinese food, Mac and Cheese, and the like.

But I staged a coup in my own brain last night. I needed something to shake me up and shake me out of this blue mood I’ve been in. The Dumplings were calling my name…

But I resisted and did my nails instead!

pretty nails keeps me from the dumplings.

Pinterest has me totally obsessed with nail art. And I noticed that doing my nails makes me feel good. Actually, better than good. I can look down and see these tiny works of art on my fingers and revel in feeling girlie and pretty and you know what? Its totally not dependent on my weight or what I’m wearing or what’s in my fridge.

And FatGirl says: You’ve got to be freaking kidding me? You want ME to host a party? For a client? OMG no one is going to show up. I’ll be standing there, woofing down the brownies and cocktail shrimp and no one will be there. I have no friends and who in their right minds is going to come to a FASHION party hosted by a Fat Girl??? What drugs are you on? Seriously, this is so not going to work. I’m not social. No body likes me? OMG WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?????

At least the "What am I going to wear?" question was solved.

And that’s what happens when a crazy fat girl tries to plan a party. But thankfully I was saved by cooler heads and my inner FabGirl got to come out and play.

Thanks to Gwynnie Bee for throwing a really fantastic party, thanks to my friends who came and enjoyed the night. I’m actually excited for the next one! Stay tuned!

You know it's a good party when the house pup is pooped

FatGirl and FabGirl have tea before a night on the town.

FabGirl: So, we’re going out tonight, black jeans or a skirt and tights?

FatGril: No no, I’m staying in. I have a lot to do. {emergency cheesecake stands by}

FabGirl: Don’t be silly, of course we’re going out. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’re going to celebrate love… {wistful sighs and naughty eye sparkles}

FatGirl: No really. I have to update the virus protection on my computer and I have 134 videos in my Hulu queue, really I have too much to do {nervously eyes cheesecake, fingers twitch towards the fork}

FabGirl: We haven’t been out forever. Our friends miss us, and you never know, Dreamy McDreamy might just waltz into our lives tonight.

FatGirl: Yeah, whatever, that’s great but these pins will not just pin themselves on to Pintrest, you know. I’ve got stuff to do,  going out is too much work.

FabGirl: Stop being silly, we’re going to see our friends, have a fruity cocktail, dance a little…

FatGirl: DANCE?? DANCE?? You’re a freakin’ lunatic. Fat Girls don’t dance. Everyone will point and laugh. “Oh look at that fat girl. Get out of the way, she might squish you and can you believe she wore that? Fat AND trampy”. Look, I don’t want to have a boyfriend, I’m perfectly fine on my own. If I had a boyfriend, I’d have to lose like 50lbs before he’d love me anyway. He’d constantly be commenting on what I was eating when we went out to dinner and at some point, we’d have to NAKED together and who in their right freakin’ minds wants to be naked with me. No one wants to date a fat girl. Fat girls don’t date. When I lose the 50lbs then I’ll be happy and sexy and someone will want to date me. We’re just going to stay home and watch Once Upon a Time and it will be fine {forgets the fork, dives face first into the cheesecake}

To say that relationships have been an issue for me is kind of an understatement. I made some bad choices. No, that’s not really true. I made the only choice I could make at that exact point in my life with all the information that I had. I fell in love with a guy who, somewhere in him, was a nice person, but was wrapped up in his own pain that he couldn’t deal with his own emotions. No, that’s not really true either. I fell in love with the idea of the person I wanted him to be, thinking that I would then be the person I wanted to be.

And then that ended. Badly. And I gained 50lbs.

For a long time this is how I thought dating worked – be skinny, then you’ll be happy, then you’ll have a fun, sexy loving relationship.

But what if I could be happy RIGHT NOW. Right this second. Wouldn’t the result then be skinny and in love? I mean, after all who wants to be in love with a grumpy person who is also fat?

I had this revelation the other day. I keep throwing up reasons why I can’t date:

• I’m not at my goal weight.
• I don’t have the right clothes.
• I don’t have time.
• I just started a business, that’s more important right now.
• I really don’t feel great about how I look and don’t want to get naked with someone.

Then I was asked a very simple question: What are you concerns about being in a relationship? The answer is two fold. 1) Obviously I’m scared of getting hurt. 2) I’m scared that I could actually get exactly what I want and then I have to deal with that.

Whoa.

What if Mr. McDreamy were to enter my life today? What if I had to actually walk the talk and be a responsible adult and make room in my life for someone? What if there was another person on this earth who accepted me for what I was and what I wasn’t? What if there was someone who loved me for me? Crap. I’d then have to love me for me.

I started looking at the reality of my dating life. I get several offers a week from online dating sites from men who want to meet me. I don’t have a fake picture up there, and I think I actually have my true weight listed on one of them (none of that “I’m curvy” stuff). There are actually quite a few people taking the effort to email me with interest. And I’m shunning all that with a story about “I don’t have time” which is actually hiding “I feel fat” which is actually hiding “I don’t know that I can love myself enough”

Whoa.

And this all has comes about because that’s exactly what may be happening. A guy, we’ll call him The Frenchman, contacted me via a dating site. I made him jump through hoops to schedule a time for drinks. I was like a freakin’ Nay-saying Ninja throwing out all these impossible limitations. He deflected them all and made it work and we had a lovely night together. If I could create the perfect man for myself, the Frenchman comes pretty darn close. And it scares the pants off me.

I don’t know where this is going, but I’m ready to find out.

I’m starting a new trend… drum roll… May I present… Running Jammies!!

Yeah, that’s right, I slept in my running gear last night. Capri yoga pants, red sports bra, pink short sleeve top but not my socks or shoes. Those were right next to my bed with my iPod. I figure at 5am if I don’t have to worry about finding my gear to put on… if I ALREADY have it on, that will shave a few minutes off my morning and help this 5am running thing work. So All hail Running Jammies!

I think I’m awesome and am on top of the world, and then I’m not for a day.

I track and count points for a few days, then I don’t for a week.

I write a flurry of blog posts, and then I don’t for 2 weeks.

I run like my pants are on fire, and then I don’t for a month.

I’m out every night with friends, and then I don’t for a few months.

I’m one foot-in-one foot-out of everything in my life. I’m in and engaged and then out and disengaged with my own life. Some of it has to do with that tricky made up stupid fear talking inner Fat Girl who just wants to sit on the couch and eat snacks.

There’s a lack of inspiration too. I’m tired of watching what I eat. I’m tried of not seeing progress. And if I asked myself honestly, I’m not seeing progress because I’m not doing what I know I need to do to see progress.

I’ve lost 80lbs and part of me feels like I deserve a break. I want to have my own Whine and Cheese party and just be all mopey that I still have 40lbs to lose. I want to be down on myself and not celebrate how far I’ve come, because that’s easier than ramping up to finish the job. I know how to be all negative and beat myself up. And I’m really good at it!

It’s easier and safer to play the in-and-out-game. It’s not hard to win after all. You just do half the job, get cranky about it, and BOOYA, you’ve won!

And there’s nothing wrong with feeling and acting this way. I could probably live the rest of my life quite happily, floating around the 190lbs mark, running 5Ks and being an on again off again blogger. That’s perfectly fine and dandy.

But that game isn’t big enough for who I am. I want more. And who I am is more than that.

This is a conversaiton I had with myself about a week ago. There’s nothing wrong with being self-pitying and mopey and fearful and hiding and whatever it is I’m being right now. But I’m ready to be done with that, sort of.

I’ve sat on this post for about a week. I gave myself a time limit to feeling this way. On publishing this post, I declare that I am done with that way of being and I’m ready to step into something new. And I have no idea what that will look like, and it’s going to be awesome.

Sex While Running

Yeah, that’s right. I’m going there because that’s how I roll.

Mom, Dad, assorted family members, sisters of St. Dominic, and those under 18, please stop reading right now because it is only going to a) make you blush b) send me to hell c) provide the juice for long silences at the next family reunion.

So I’m out on a 3 mile run. Shouldn’t be too hard right? But today for some reason, I am struggling. Just over a mile to go and every thing is telling me to take the shortcut home or to walk the rest of the way. Fat Girl is screaming “Dear God. Stop the Ride. I wanna get off! I wanna go home!”

Fit Girl is even getting a little condescending patting me on the mental shoulder saying “It’s OK if you want to walk.”

Screw that man! I’m a runner and I’m gonna run!

Like a Running Ninja, I start whipping out every tip and trick and mental weapon tucked in the pockets of my ninja jammies.

Tactic 1: Release the Dory!! I sing “just keep swimming” ala Dory from Finding Nemo in my head over and over and over. It’s rhythmic, I can match foot strikes to the beat and it’s bound to make me smile.

FAILURE

Tactic 2: Open a can of Zen whoopass from ChiRunning. Get into your body. Lean into your run. Watch your breath. Inhale 2 steps. Exhale 3. Inhale. Exhale. In. Ex.

BORING! FAIL!!!

Tactic 47B: Bust a move on Lady Gaga. If you can’t get your mojo going to “Bad Romance” there’s something seriously wrong.

Crap.

There’s something seriously wrong, because even the Gaga can’t get me going.

The mental weapon of last resort – THE SEX.

I’ve got a mile to go and there’s nothing else to do but distract myself for the next 13 minutes than a steamy sex fantasy. Yeah, that’s right, I think about sex while running.

Sometimes it’s the outlandish campy classics, like “Oh Professor, is there any way I can get extra credit? I really need to pass your class”

Sometimes I’ll focus on someone I met in passing at  the guy on the train with the purple tie and the really big feet. Please feel free to leave your own raunchy Big Foot comment.

Sometimes it’s a little risque like that young NYPD beat cop I met a few months ago all young, and fresh and fit. NY’s Finest do come complete with their own handcuffs you know. Just sayin’.

And sometimes, I construct the phantom image of the most perfect man. Tall, educated, creative, powerful, well traveled, with eyes so blue it’s like a tsunami washing through you. He’s a runner too, natch. We’re out on a run through the countryside, racing across a field of wild flowers. He let’s me win, natch, cause he’s just that kind of guy, natch. Congratulatory kiss turns into frisky business which turns into nakedness. (I always fast forward through the getting naked part because no matter how you play it, getting out of a sweaty sports bra is just not sexy and hey, it’s my fantasy right? I can magic the sweaty clothes away like Hermonie in my own private Naughty Harry Potter. Speaking of – Naughty HP Triva Break – The character Oliver Wood was played by Sean Biggerstaff. Get it. Wood is a Biggerstaff.)

Wait, what? Where was I? See what I mean, thinking about the sex even distracted me from my own post, that last mile just flew by! And the cold shower I took when I got home was fantastic.

@LeavingFatville is a Twitter personality I just adore. And of course, she has a blog too. She recently posted about feeling all knocked down over a recent weight gain. In blogger-confessional mode, she came clean about letting circumstances get the best of her and “piling fried chicken on my plate like it’s going out of style.”

This was my response to that post:

So, I have the answer for you. It’s hard because you’ve already decided that you are not a success. It’s hard because you’ve decided it is hard.

Every month I say “I don’t lose weight the week I have my period”. And guess what? I don’t lose weight the week of my period. My period rolls around, and since I’ve already decided that I’m not going to lose weight, it’s perfectly reasonable to eat 2 bags of M&Ms. Since I’m not going to lose weight anyway, yeah, I’ll have thirds on pasta tonight. I’ve already made the choice so all of my behavior AND my circumstances fall in line with that.

Yeah, so you had a bad week. Stuff happened, and you already have this very comfortable set of behaviors and thoughts in place to fall back on. So that’s what you do. And that’s what you will do until you make the choice to do something else. And it is as easy as making a choice, like choosing between red socks or blue socks.

Here’s the kicker that will twist your noodle – there’s nothing wrong.

There’s nothing wrong with making choices that lead to a 5lb gain. Those choices, behaviors and thoughts that got you to a gain are all perfectly OK. There’s nothing wrong with gaining 5lbs. Nothing. The reason you feel its wrong and hard and all the other negative adjectives you can come up with is because you’re comparing your actual real present with fictional story doesn’t exist.

You are who you are right at this very second, and that person is perfect in this very second. The next second is an opportunity for you to choose who you want to be. So who are you going to choose?

It all comes down to choice. A choice about who we are in our lives. And there’s nothing inherently wrong about our choices AND we can always choose something different.

So when Mother Nature visits, and I choose to be crappy and miserable and drown in chocolate, there’s nothing wrong with that, there’s nothing inherently “BAD” about it.

It’s not wrong AND it’s not productive given my long term goals. OK, get that — It’s not wrong AND it’s not productive.

LeavingFatville wrote “I’m stepping on the scale for the sheer gluttony of making myself see how badly I’m treating myself” and she tagged this with “Pity Party”. That just about made me want to cry (or slap her silly but seeing as there’s a country between us, that’s not realistic). She had an unsatisfying week and gained weight. There’s nothing to beat yourself up over. When you make choices that are no longer satisfying, guess what? MAKE DIFFERENT CHOICES!

I’m about a week or so away from Mother Nature’s little visit and I choose to make different choices this month. I might still fall into chocolate and gain weight, but it will be a choice that I make knowing it has consequences. I choose how my life is going to go.

What do you choose?