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

So you know I’m sort of obsessed with nail art right? I mean, I go a little crazy on Pinterest about it (Follow my nail board!). Recently, discussing all things social media with the awesome Collective Bias team, Jay Berg offered to send me his wive’s hidden stash of unused nail products! Now that’s a good man!

So I’m testing out this press on manicure. So far, I think if you need your nails to look great for a single evening, this would be a great option, just press them on just before you head out the door. The packaging says they should last about a week, and I don’t have high hopes for that

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.

Holy handbags Batman! I got invited to a bloggers brunch hosted by SearsStyle at Bagatelle. Of course my first thought was “OMG OMG OMG OMG what on EARTH am I going to wear”.

Help me Gwynnie Bee, you’re my only hope!

Gwynnie Bee is my savior

Thank goodness I have a whole fashion team in my back pocket or else I would have declined the invitation.

The food was divine at Bagatelle and the Bilinis were non stop.

Bagatelle sweets

Seriously, after a half dozen my crazy inner FatGirl thought this jacket was a good idea. I have to say it’s cute and in theory could look good, but I think I’d look like I skinned a muppet.

Cute, but Muppet-ish

Sears set up a Jeans Bar and we were welcome to take a pair home! I was tempted to take these peach skinny jeans but they didn’t come in my size.

SearsStyle Jeans Bar

Peach Skinny Jeans?

Speaking of size, this was a showcase of the Kardashian line at Sears. The clothes were cute, but you would think that a girl with curves like Kim would design a line of clothing that would love your curves. Not so much. The size 14 jeans I choose are a wee bit too night, even in the calves.

Regardless, it was a lovely afternoon, so thanks Sears!

FatGirl Says: Oh Duane, you really get me. You really get my needs, my wants, that little thing that will just make my day better. You’re there for me when I have the sniffles. You make me feel pretty. You have chocolate for every holiday known under the sun and you have chocolate just “because”. And it’s like you’re there like 24/7, always open and available. Le sigh.

Chocolate Covered Almonds at DReade makes the world better

I have a secret love affair with Duane Reade Drug Stores. This affair started for two reasons. Years ago, Chase Bank put an ATM machine in every Duane Reade in the City. If you’re a Chase customer, that pretty much means there’s a fee-free ATM about every 50 feet or so, either in a Duane Reade or in a Chase Bank. One of my biggest pet peeves in life that you have to pay to have access to your hard-earned cash. When Duane Reade and Chase teamed up, that meant I was seeing red about my green with much less frequency.

A Chase ATM on every block

The second reason that I came to love Duane Reade is that I’m pathologically early for things. You see, I’ve spent far too much time in Japan and it has some lingering side effects like the inability to give an unambiguous no and being on time to the point of obsession and driving everyone in my life flippin’ nuts because I simple can’t be late so I’m always early. Since I don’t actually want to drive everyone in my life flippin’ nuts AND I’m pathologically early for things, I developed the coping mechanism of wandering Duane Reade endlessly. There are like 6 billion Duane Reades in NYC (OK, like 250+ stores but really, considering Manhattan is only 22.7 square miles, that’s like, oh help me out with the math here, 10 or so Duane Reades per square mile?), you can always find a Duane Reade to pop into to kill some time. I could hit a coffee shop to kill time, but then you’re sitting there staring at your coffee with nothing to do, so you need to go to Duane Reade anyway to get a Cosmo and take the Sex Quiz to bide the time. And we all know that there will be no popping into the Gap or some fancy pants boutique with my Crazy Inner FatGirl’s illogical fear of retail sales girls. It is impossible to think you’re too fat for hair gel. And besides, there’s ALWAYS something you need, Febreeze, tissues, chocolate, mascara, so while you’re trying not to drive people flippin’ nuts, get your errands done.

Never too fat for Hair Care Products

Duane Reade started a re-branding project in about 2005 or so, and it went way beyond developing a fancy new logo. They really began to shift what’s possible for a local drug store. When you think “drug store” you think, well, drugs. Yeah, you can get your drugs in the pharmacy and all the over-the-counter-make-me-feel-better-right-this-very-second stuff like Mucinex and Advil, as well as your hair care products, last minute cheesy gifts, a few cleaning supplies, all the little necessities and niceties of life. But Duane Reade really saw the opportunity to provide something more for their customers and the communities they’re in. Duane Reade now offers flu shots, select locations have “Doctor on Premises” where you can get immediate and affordable health care for minor complaints like colds and boo-boos with no appointments – a huge service in an era where health care is pricey and frustrating and actually kind of hard to come by in NYC with hospitals closing. The pharmacy will text message you when your prescription is ready to be picked up and they even offer language assistance, so that you can really be taken care of. You may have never been sick in a place where you don’t speak the language, but let me tell you, there is nothing more stressful and terrifying than trying to buy medicine in a foreign language. You don’t know if this package is going to cure your hemorrhoids or remove unwanted hair.

Then there is the LOOK Boutique.

Looking good at LOOK Boutique at DReade

Imagine walking into your local drug store and being able to sample the newest OPI nail color, or THE anti-aging face cream wonder that all the magazines are featuring. The LOOK Boutique goes beyond your everyday CoverGirl cosmetics and introduces you to beauty lines that are 100% vegan and natural, and I can’t even begin to ooo and ahh enough about the different lines they carry. But they’ve taken that even further. Most LOOK Boutiques are staffed by people who actually know what they’re talking about and will help you find something new and fun to try. Then they took this to the next level when the 40 Wall store opened. Right in the drug store, you can get your hair blown out, your nails done, sample over 40 different perfumes and they have a virtual make-over kiosk. When you’ve worked all day and you have a big date, pop in, spruce up and not drop a load of cash. Freakin Brilliant.

But the thing I want to really talk about is food. Naturally.

Redefining fast food at Duane Reade

With this re-branding project, Duane Reade is altering the way you can shop for food and eat in NYC. If you don’t live in NYC, here’s a little known fact – supermarkets are few and far between. It is not possible to drive up to a mega supermarket, fill your cart with a months worth of food and head on home. Grocery stores in NYC are tiny, cramped and severely limited in the quality and quantity of goods they offer. There are entire neighborhoods that lack a grocery store of any sort. This means that you do a lot of your food shopping at the corner deli where quantity and quality is even more limited and you would cry over the prices, or you lug your groceries for miles on public transportation. Don’t even get me started on the lack of fruits and vegetables, organic food and basic healthy eating needs. Duane Reade already has a vast presence in NYC. They started bringing in quality pre-made food, like sandwiches and salads. Then they started to expand into basic grocery needs. This addition alone can literally alter the health and well-being of entire communities.

My business partner at Ginger Snap Works and I were invited to attend the opening of a new Duane Reade on Broadway and 52nd Street by Collective Bias, a social media and blogger engagement agency, who is working on some social media projects with Duane Reade.

Ginger Snap Works at Duane Reade

They kicked off the press event by donating $350,000 to Susan G. Komen. I was kind of hoping to see one of those giant checks like they give to lottery winners. I guess that’s a little tacky these days huh? And well, when you’re talking about over a quarter million dollars, no need to be obvious about it.

Duane Reade plays Santa for Susan G. Komen with $350,000 donation

And Antoine was there with his jet pack of coffee, so all around, it was an excellent morning.

Go Go Coffee Jet Pack

I could gush for a while about how pretty and spacious the store is, but I really want to talk about the food. The entire upstairs is food and there is a grocery section down stairs. And bestill my little FitGirl heart – there’s some good healthy stuff here. I mean, just check out the yogurt section.

A billion yogurts at Duane Reade

What drug store do you know that has a fresh produce section?

Fresh Produce at Duane Reade... next to light bulbs?

OK, the fresh produce is next to the light bulbs and dog food and that’s a bit freaky but I can work with it. And will you look at that, there’s fresh fruit within 5 steps of the entrance. Bananas, apples and oranges are actually the first product you encounter when you walk in the store.

Ninja Bananas prepare to attack at Duane Reade

Now hold on to your Points Tracker, because this is what is really amazing. At the B’Way store, yeah yeah, sure you can get cleaning supplies, magazines, cold medicine, and your usual drinks and snacks and treats. And OK, they upped the game with fresh food and bananas and even beer…

Beer in the drug store?

The whole first floor is a food market. And I’m not talking day old muffins and Cheetos.

A machine that dispenses slushy drinks;

On-Demand Brain Freeze

Self-serve Frozen Yogurt with toppings (peach is to die for!);

Self Serve Frozen Yogurt at Duane Reade

A sushi bar. Yes, a real live human being stands right there and makes sushi for you;

Sushi Fixins at the Sushi Bar

There’s a fridge case with about oh 8 dozen different kinds of salads and sandwiches;

Sammies, salads and quick healthy lunches

A fresh juice bar;

Fresh squeezed Juice at Duane Reade

Then you circle around and find gourmet breads and holy freaking cow Fat Witch Brownies next to a machine that dispenses a variety of coffees and…

Fat Girl and Fat Witch = Heaven

wait for it…

AN OATMEAL VENDING MACHINE.

A machine that gives you oatmeal. Holy cow Duane Reade!

Yes, that’s right, you put a cup under the spout and press a button and out comes oatmeal. OK, fine, it’s instant oatmeal and I’m kind of an oatmeal snob but I had a cup. It was $1.99, a wee hint of sweetness, not mushy or soupy at all like instant oatmeal and way way less sweet, and to be honest, it’s better than Starbucks oatmeal.

I’m sure I’m missing a dozen things that are new and exciting in this store as I was a wee bit distracted by the food options. This ain’t a Fat Girl blog for no reason after all!. OH! And my inner Fit Girl will break a proverbial knee cap if I don’t plug the single best thing in Duane Reade…

And FitGirl says: You’re out and about in the City, dashing to a yoga class or coming home after a run, you must re-fuel and get a healthy snack in you! Skip the candy aisle and those protein bars that have more sugar than soda, and pick up this DELICOUS “Delish Chick Pea Salad”. It’s about a half-cup portion and NOT dripping in oily dressing – The perfect protein pick-me-up!

Perfect Protein Pick-me-up

My two general complaints about Duane Reade –  I’ve never found the staff to be overly friendly. They’re helpful, no doubt,  if you ask for help. I had some interactions with a store manager once who simply kicked butt. He couldn’t solve my problem but was awesome anyway. It’s not like the staff is rude or aything and I get it blows working check out in retail sometimes, but the staff have never given me the warm fuzzies either. My second complaint is that Duane Reade can be pricy. Not over priced, but they are generally at the higher end of price point fluctuations. They do have really great sales tho if you keep your eye out on their bulletin and sign up for Flex Reward card. If you must have your favorite shampoo right this second and it’s not on sale that week, expect to pay in the higher price range for it.

I’ve been a customer and a fan of Duane Reade for years. As I’m growing and building this healthy life style for myself, it’s really phenomenal that a company and a brand I am already a fan of is growing in that same direction with me. I know that I can be on the go in the City and that Duane Reade makes it really easy for me to support the decisions that are important to me around my well being.

Please Note: After the tour I received a gift card as a thank you. I’m participating in this Duane Reade Campaign #DReade as a member of Collective Bias. #CBias. No other compensation was received. Views expressed are always 100% my own.

Why the hell is my brother running if he's not being chased?

Just me and the Road

By @bikerdan584 Dan Cartwright TheRunningMan-A Yearnin Running

Why run? I’ve lost count of the number of people who have asked me this or the number of times I’ve asked it of myself. The truth is I have no idea.

It all started one day when my brother asked me to go for a run as he was training for a charity event and wanted some company.

My first thoughts were, in no particular order;

Why the hell is my brother running if he’s not being chased?

Why the sudden fascination with running when his car seems to be working?

If he’s doing it, could I?

After a few tentative runs of slowly increasing distance I discovered lots of benefits to running. I was losing weight, I was looking better and feeling well. I discovered whole parts of the local area I never knew existed and a whole community of runners across the world, more than willing to share tips and secrets. More over, I found a sport which was open to all, wasn’t expensive and didn’t have pre-conceived ideas of what a typical runner should be.

All of these benefits were apparent but none of them ever answered the question “Why Running?”

Why not another sport, why not join a gym or take up football?

The question rings loud in my ears with every footfall of a long run and it’s met with nothing but the echo of my footsteps in response.

I’ve struggled with weight and personal image for as long as I can remember. And it’s strange because looking at photographs of my past I was never as big as I thought. I guess (or I hope) that everyone has those voices in the back of their mind telling them what they can not achieve, or how useless/stupid/fat/ugly they are. The problem is I’d listened to them so long I could only identify myself by their descriptions and despite the good stuff going on in my life, I still felt like the loser they described.

In running I found a sport which allowed me to test my own self perceptions and my own limitations. I wasn’t being compared to team mates or peers, it was just me and the road. And I could push myself as hard as I wanted. Over time a strange thing happened.

I got better.

I began pushing myself to the limit in order to find what I was capable of and the response wasn’t a voice telling me that I don’t look like a runner, or another telling me I’m too fat to run and chasing me down.

The response was my footfall on the pavement, the rhythmic beat that showed I wasn’t slowing. I was moving forward. Literally taking a step and doing something positive.

It was me doing something more than most.

While others sat in and vegetated I was on the road or in the gym and I was running and accomplishing something.

So where am I now?

I’m 20+lbs lighter than I was six months ago and feel ten years younger I’m faster than I’ve ever been and have taken part in some amazing events and met some great people through running. I have a more positive self image. The voices are still there but now when I run, it’s not to get away from them, it’s to shut them up and show them what I can do.

And on the long runs, either by street light or in the sun, the beat still goes on. I keep moving one foot in front of the other and I keep running.

Why run?

I’ve no idea, but the answer is just over the horizon and if I keep running faster I might just catch it.

Fat Girl, in Secret Agent mode, scans the terrain for hostiles. The buffet table is at 6 o’clock. Deserts staged at 4 o’clock. Nut bowl at 3.

Alert! Alert! Aunt Betty is circulating with a platter of pigs in blankets. Repeat! Pigs in blankets on the move!

Side stepping the incoming bogey, Fat Girls slides stealthily into the den. She’ll deal with the Weapons of Waistline Destruction (AKA Thanksgiving Dinner) later. A trickier and deadlier foe lies in wait ready to pounce and unleash the fury of hell itself in a quick snap and flash.

As cool and trained as she is, tension pulls Fat Girl wire tight. A bead of sweat forms at her temple. She knows the stakes. This ain’t her first rodeo. She’s failed in the past. The thought of getting tagged instantly and publicly sends a shiver down her spine. Fat Girl steadies herself with a piggie, and clicks on the HUD display in her sexy librarian glasses.

Red warning lights explode like Christmas lights. No, wait, with a peak over her glasses, those are just plain old Christmas lights. My bad. A scan of the room produces 2 iPhones, a Blackberry, a smart phone of undetermined make, an Olympus FE-280 8 megapixel 3X optical zoom. Eep. Small, quietly and deadly. But manageable given the target rich environment of couches and arm chairs to hide behind. Fat Girl’s eyes backtrack to the desk.

For the love of all that is good and fattening. It can’t be. Fat Girl pales, the blood draining past her knees that turned to jelly. Warning alarms explode in her head.

Mayday. Mayday. Code RED! Repeat Code RED! Implement anti-camcorder protocols STAT. Get out of there Secret Agent Fat Girl. Abort. ABORT! Get OUT! Dear God, save us!

The alarm shrieks in her head dull to a low rumble. She grits her teeth to quell the shakes. She reaches for a cocktail napkin to dab at the rivulet of sweat now running from her temple (after eating the 2 pigs in blankets of course as they were deployed upon the needed napkin. She’ll need her strength for the coming battle of course. There no time to count points now). Coolly, despite her heart thundering in her chest, Fat Girl assess her resources and tactical options.

Sports and politics are always handy diversions. You could always stir up Yankees vs. Mets drama in a NY household with out too much collateral damage. Popping another piggie, Fat Girl chews over the alternatives. She mulls the ultimate fail safe option – ‘Accidental’ Breakage. Could she go there? Would all her training fail her at the last moment? “Tactical success in the field is often the result of exploiting moments of chance and happenstance.” At the very moment Fat Girl resolves to break her uncle’s camcorder on purpose rather than face seeing images of herself plastered on Facebook, Aunt Betty glides into the room with a platter of cookies so tall the Colossus would turn green. Diving through this window of opportunity, Fat Girl springs into action by re arranging the desk to clear space for the cookies. The camcorder is now neutralized behind the poinsettia and the framed picture of Rufus the cat with Santa. Two celebratory cookies later and Fat Girl gears up for the Annual Battle of the Pies.

For 30 years, I’ve come up with super creative, Ninja-like ways to not be photographed.

“No no, it’s fine. You get in there. I’ll take the photo.”

“Here. Come stand in front of me. I’m taller.”

“I’m having a bad hair day, take the picture later!”

“What if I peeked around the corner of this wall and just my nose was peeping out. That would be so artistic!”

You’d think I was a spy, hoping to erase all photographic evidence of myself. Seeing myself in photographs pushes ever self conscious button I have. I’ve lost 6 dress sizes and I still want to throw up every time a camera is pointed towards me.

A few months ago I visited a friend up in Boston. He owns a photography studio (Shameless plug, if you need pictures, ImagineNext.com are the people to contact!) and he’s tried to convince me for years to get in front of his camera. I have always slipped out of that, never giving an out right no. You see, to me, the image of who I am and what I look like in my head is radically different from what I see in photographs. So when I’m confronted with what I see in a photograph, I’m shocked back into reality and go to “Not-Enough-Land” where I’m not thin enough, or pretty enough, my hair is not straight enough. It never occurs to me in that moment to call up an image of what IS enough. It never occurs to me that I’m comparing myself to completely fictional image that doesn’t exist and isn’t defined. All I know is that it’s not enough.

I got an email with the pictures in it and it took me a full 5 days to open it. All this work I’ve done on myself to get comfortable with who I am right now, in this moment, in this reality, splintered apart with a single mouse click. I downloaded the pictures and was instantly horrified by how fat I looked and walked away from my computer.

It took me 2 more days to really settle in and look at the pictures. And I do look fat in those pictures. Those pictures were taken 20 pounds ago. Those pictures are not what is so in this reality, in this moment in time, they are a wee slice of the oh so recent past. It both amuses me and saddens me that all I could see upon first glance were my chubby arms and my poofy tummy. I look great in these photos despite the 20 lbs and the chubby arms and the tummy poof. My crazy inner Fat Girl has to learn how to get a grip on what is the actualy state of affairs in this moment in time. And for now, I’m going to take a break from photography. Whew. Oh, yeah, here’s the pictures..

OM

The Grass IS greener on the other side

I should have put the flowers in my hair

Ah the Holidays. This season of love, joy, and giving is rife with hidden spots of stress, trauma, and depression. We stress ourselves out with plans and family get-togethers and parties. I won’t even go into the stress of holiday shopping. Oy, that’s another post. It’s no wonder most people gain like 10lbs during this season and there are a slew of triggers that get the Crazy Inner Fat Girl all riled up. But there’s one uber special holiday trauma that Fat Girl fears above all -

Christmas presents.

Now, you’d think that getting any present is special and delightful, and they are, but giving a Fat Girl the gift of clothing is a no win situation anyway you go about it.

The very first thing Fat Girl does on Christmas morning is to assess the risk level of potential IEEDs (Improvised Esteem-Explosive Devices). Like a covert operative, Fat Girl volunteers to hand out gifts so that she can have some cover to poke and prod suspicious packages. Is that shirt box, with its perfect edges, squishy enough to contain a sweater? Or is it a board game? Oh that lumpy one is either jammies (generally safe), possibly underwear, or a dangerous pair of pants? That one, right there, looks dangerous, it’s definitely a top of some sort. Damn.

Now what to do? Do you open the dangerous one first? Hoping that you can cause a diversion out of someone else’s more awesome holiday gift or do you open it last hoping that by the time you get to the offending package, everyone will be gifted out and not care anymore. You know that the offensive clothing gift giver will want you to try that sucker on RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT. And that is the biggest danger of all.

Once opened, Fat Girl employs well practiced techniques that mask her appreciation of the item with her true intent – Discovering the size of the garment.

Having other people buy clothing for you can confirm that yeah, you really are that fat and your family knows it. There’s nothing worse that opening a sweater and seeing a shocking HUGE size on the tag, and having it fit just perfectly. The only thing worse is seeing a shockingly huge size on the tag and NOT being able to squeeze into the item. The only thing worse than that is seeing a shockingly huge size on the tag  and being forced to try the item on in front of all your family and not being able to squeeze it over your cookie laden hips, which of course will send you straight to the pantry to polish off the tray of Christmas cookies in peace and quiet.

Christmas was a low key affair this year for a sack full of reasons. Christmas morning I ooo’ed and ahhh’ed over the small stack of gift, saving that dreaded shirt box till the end. My folks know better than to buy me clothes as gifts. I think I’ve traumatized them by spending far too many holidays crying in my room. That tightness in my tummy started as I ripped the paper back, Crazy Inner Fat Girl already getting wound up for a mental tantrum. The shiny paper revealed a lovely black cashmere sweater,( I could so rock in a naughty librarian look!). Then my eyes bulge and I feel like someone punched me in the gut when I spy the size tag and it says – brace yourself – “M”.

What the hell is my mother thinking?? I’m not a stinking “M”. I have never been an “M” and will never be an “M”. Just because her size 8s hang off her now doesn’t mean everybody is an M. Sheesh.

After distracting everyone with breakfast, I run upstairs and figure I better get it over with. I try that size “M” sweater on with my jammies.

Holy Holidays Batman. That sucker fit. OK, granted, I don’t think I can wear it with my new jeans that are a tad too muffin-top-inducing, but it does fit. When in the world did I become a size “M”. Standing at my mirror admiring the fit of a sweater for perhaps the first time in my life, even my Crazy Inner Fat Girl had to smile. I think that sweater beats the pink camo Hello Kitty slippers as my favorite Christmas gift this year.

I’ve been sick for the past week. One of those delightful head colds that become a lingering cough. It’s the kind of cold that has you just want to sleep for 20 hours a day. Only problem is – Cold Medicine Induced Insomnia. So I just lie there, being sick and miserable and never actually sleeping. And to make it all the more better, when I do sleep I have these weird crazy dreams featuring murderous trained attack penguins. I actually dreamt that Ben from Lost was naked and covered in baby oil trying to kill my lesbian neighbors. And no, I don’t have lesbian neighbors and lord only knows why you’d have to be naked and covered in baby oil to kill lesbians. I wasn’t even taking Nyquil at this point. sheesh.

And of course at the height of feeling yuckie, I had a family event to go to. My Uncle and Aunt’s 50th anniversary. At least I looked good regardless of how I felt.

All Dressed UP

Starting Weight: 193 pounds

Current Weight: 191.8

I live. I run. I am.

ONE brag for the week: I haven’t smoked all week

ONE thing to improve upon for next week: Follow Clean Eating Cooler Plan 1 and get in AM workouts! (ok, that’s 2 things!!!)

So, Jess, a delightful new Twitter Friend came up with this brilliant challenge idea – Drop Dead Gorgeous by December. Jess says; “This challenge was created to make me better as a whole, not so I can beat somebody at weight loss. Drop Dead Gorgeous by December aims to make each and every single person that joins feel better about themselves, both inside and out.”

Well heck yes I want to be a part of that!

So this is my originating post AND my first picture on this blog!

I am a RockStar

Starting Weight: 193 pounds

Goals from now until December:

1. Run a 5K or 10K.
2. New Year’s Eve date and/or trip.
3. At least 1 Freelance writing gig.
4. Steady non-retail income stream.

ONE brag for the week: I ran 22 MILES!

ONE thing to improve upon for next week: Accurately and consistently tracking what I eat.