Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Day Two

Start as you mean to go....or follow up and over

I screwed up. I slept through my alarm and missed my entire first class at the gym.

Then like a bumbling bull in a china store, I woke the whole house.

In my frustration, I did make it to the gym and the only thing I could think to do was find some kinda cardio...

But first I explored the gym and its tiny, but that's fine... the shower situation sucks...but what ever...I found some tabata work out music( heavy dance hall and edm with a kicking bass  that counts you down through several BURST work sections)  I sat my ass on one of those recumbent bikes and pushed through 3O minutes of sheer disappointment and pisstivity.

Then I did a ten minute kettle ball routine ( did it through twice) that I found on you tube.


I came home had my oatmeal for breakfast and facebook lived my shame.
For lunch I had an apple/quinoa salad with avocado and cranberries and .....it wasn't as good as i had longed for but i lived....i didn't finish it and thats fine...
I went to work and my app wasn't working... they kept requesting that I restart then drive here or there then restart. I gave up and went and washed and vaccumed my car. Then  as soon as i could i self turtled ( took off with out repricussion because they hadn't been sending me any orders) and came home... grabbed the barbarian and his uncle and went on an adventure...

Which is how I ended up in Carino's nearly in tears.... because I didn't want a fucking salad... I wanted pasta and sauce and lobster... but I muscled through. I order the large cobb...with EVERYTHING ON SIDE...and water.

I ended the day buy getting a new super cool tea pot and getting the barbarian a fresh fresh pair of addias.

 In case you're wondering....here's what I'm working with.

37 years old
52 bust-54.75waist-58hips
and 49.7% body fat.

All I know is at the end of 16 weeks I just want to be smaller. and healthier...
(this is me on SUNDAY THE 8th)

this is me not being happy with my salad but determined to stick to my guns....listen...i love salad... but who the hell wants salad when they can have lobster ravioli and BREAD

Tomorrow I do day two of my detox...And I'm getting getting a massage first thing in the morning( hey it was booked weeks ago).

IT wasn't a bad day really.... Just Keep Swimming

Monday, April 9, 2018

Starting again... inches and pounds

Finding A New Motivation
It’s nearly 10 p.m. and I’m just now getting around to this blog.  I had to have a panic attack and moment of sheer HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING.

I’ve been talking about getting fit for ever. Having lost my friend Laura recently, its just been this thing that’s on my mind more and more. During her battle with cancer, Laura got crazy about her fitness. Now, I’m not going to tell you that she did this 180  and became a guru, but she was at times fanatic about being in the gym, working out, being as healthy as she could be. She still had her ups and downs, but she was in it to win.  Even at the end when we all knew there was just no possible way she was going to get into a gym in this realm again, she was focused on getting her physical therapy and then getting back to working out. There was no waivering about it. She was going to rehab and “I’m going to loose this fucking weight, Drea. I’m gonna bring sexy back….again.”

Like most of y’all, this isn’t my first weight loss Rodeo and as its an ongoing process, its not the last.  I’ve done it all from wraps to drinks, to pills and starvation.  With the exception of going under the knife and illegal drugs, if its out there as a way to loose weight, I’ve tried it.
And I’ve dropped them all just as fast as I started them. Well, almost all of them.  
Shortly B.C.B. (Before Cannon the Barbarian) I contacted a fitness coach and model that I knew on facebook and had him customize me a menu and a plan. Zac was and is a sweet heart. He talked me through everything and was sweet and encouraging. I weighed in 5lbs heavier than I am now. I did a pretty good job. I learned to make smarter food choices, I meal prepped like a five start chef. I wasn’t hungry in fact I was moody because I honestly got tired of eating. 8 meals a day was just insurmountable.  AND ALL THAT DAMN SALAD. DO YOU REALLY KNOW HOW BIG 3.5 oz of salad is?  Do you. DO. YOU.
I doubt you really do. AND IF YOU DO KNOW then your jaw immediately clinched the moment you read those words and you salivated and thought “alllllllllllll the cheeewwwwwinnnnggg. Mussssttttt sssssttttooooppppp chewing”
I didn’t do too heavy a work out…walking on the treadmill that I named “that fucking treadmill”.  I spent more time trying not to fall off of it than I want to admit.  And if you guys remember …I fell off it … a lot.

Anyway, nearly 3 years A.C.B ( keep up, After Cannon the Barbarian), I’m back to being 325 (I am supposed to say 324.8 and give my self little victories *rolling my eyes*) and I need to re group and go again.  I’ve been talking about getting MORE help than I had before since Cannon was 6 months old. I knew that this time the journey was going to be harder.  But I have a new motivation. I’m an older mom. Automatically my time with my little barbarian is shorter than if I’d had him in my early to mid-twenties. I don’t want to shorten that time further by being unhealthy.
I want and need to be able to keep up with him.  You all know very well that this boy hits the ground running every day.  There is no low gear, even when he is sick he is just barely letting off the throttle.  In a few short months he is going to be three years old. Ready to start pee wee athletics and just … everything you know. I need to be there for it all.

So there is that. The whys are just like they’ve always been. I want to be heathier. I want to be lighter and wear fun clothes.  I want to move easier, breath easier, and all of that.  I just want to be happier in my skin.

Biting Off More Than I Can Chew
This time, even though its been something on my mind for more than three years, getting fit was a spur of the moment decision. One of those time where the gym was offering an amazing fish hook deal to get you looped in for a year membership.  I knew it was a gimmick, but if not now when. They were offering the kind of motivation I’ve been telling anyone who’d listen I needed. Small personalized classes.  One on one attention. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS.

And then I looked at their customized (generic for everyone) meal plans and recipes. AND THEN they had the nerve to suggest that my big southern foodie ass try a 1200 calorie diet and I literally laughed in their faces. If I hadn’t already signed the contract I’d have walked out with the double Stone Cold Steve Austins in the air.
The regular menu was going to be a pain in the ass, but it was doable. That paleo/keto…no…just no…so many different no’s. GRANDIOUS AND OBNOXIOUS NOS.
SO I started searching for someone who could do the meal prep for me.   I can meal prep with the best of them, but I’d rather do laundry and we all know I HATE LAUNDRY. Through my searching I stumbled across Chef Eboni  and sometimes when spirit speak you leap.
And thank GOD I DID.
Because I’ve been ok until around 7 pm when I realized that I hadn’t eaten my third detox meal and I’m supposed to NOT eat after 7pm.  SUDDENLY I WAS RAVINOUS. I haven’t felt hungry all day. In fact, the only thing I’ve complained about is that I don’t like the kombucha … at all.
I stared at all the food in the kitchen and there wasn’t anything in there that I was sure I could eat. I mean truthfully, there were some options, but I’m supposed to be detoxing for three days.
I literally had a panic attack. I started sweating. I mean I managed to deliver 5 roasted chickens and not have a break down, but now…NOOOWWW I was super starving. I had already tried distracting myself. I had taken nap, drank some water all the things you’re supposed to do to get past the anxiety. SO I text Chef E and she was supper patient. She let me rant and scream about being hungry.  Then she talked me down. Gave me options to help me customize this detox to help get through this week. 
Tomorrow morning is my first day in the gym. So I’ll post all my stats and all that crap  after I drag myself home and cry about how awful it was

Monday, May 18, 2015

feeling a bit guilty

Most of you know by now that when I do remember to blog its pretty free form. I've never been that blogger than had a daily schedule or word count. Yeah, there is a bit of advertising on the page but honestly its never made me a dime and I am not (as of yet) trying to make a living blogging.  I know some professional bloggers. Keeping up with content and et al is hard work. I never really saw that in my plans and even know its probably not something I'm going to commit to.

Having said that, I also read all my responses and emails so I do know I have a bit of a following.  I want to thank y'all for checking even when you know darn good and well there probably isn't anything new here.

As this pregnancy moves into its final leg I'm hoping to be here (in front of my lap top) more.    I know if you follow me on fb and twitter you know I'm the world's biggest pregnant cry baby.  I feel all kinds of guilt about that.

So while I'm here lets talk about it.
Why do I feel guilty about complaining about being pregnant.

I guess to begin with we better start with the begining.  I've talked in some places loosely about our struggle to become parents. This isn't our first pregnancy. Its just our first sucessful one. Each day I praise the Almighty for however many weeks plus days we progress.  We've never made it past 12 weeks before. To be 24 weeks and 1 day...well hallelujah!!! HOLD OUR MULE!

That in and of it self is enough to make a chic fill guilty.  I honestly wish I could eat every complaint I've made.  Really, I do. Even when I'm sitting here mentally bitching about the ache in my back, the numbness in my limbs, the fact that at 24 weeks I'm still puking( and by proxy peeing) on myself.  I hate those complaints. Because somewhere in my heart I know this is what I signed up for. This is the long haul and I'm definitely in it. I wouldn't take the alternative if you handed me a billion bucks tax free.  Every day I tell myself to suck it up butter cup.
and then I complain about whatever else.

At 34 and after 8 active years of trying, well I honestly wasn't prepared. Everything I ever read, researched, heard an ancedote about...none of it means a darn thing. Everything is new and scary and strange to me.  THERE IS A PERSON IN MY ABDOMAN.  Ok, that was a mild freak out, but you know he has hiccups right now and he is moving and it feels so gross. No on every once said "it feels really gross when they move around."

Everyone is always like its so cool and you can feel and hear and yeah...... no.  Nope.  I mean yes it is but on the same token...no, no its not. Its gross and its uncomfortable and frankly, its really nasty feeling. like someone is fist...you know what lets not go there.

I know some of  y'all are like " drea, suck it up."  but let me tell you as much as i bitch...I'm still having a hard time with the decision that cwb and i decided to share this pregnancy publically. We've never ever done that before. There has only been one other time that we told anyone.   So even though I'm complaining I'm not putting it all out there like i said I would.  I'm kinda after the fact about most of it.  I've been IN the hospital more than i've admitted. But i didn't want to alarm anyone so I kinda just went stayed came home and gripped about being sick.
 Being in the homestretch I feel like I have a little room to breath (and I mean very little, dude this kid takes up space) so I'm slowly admitting to being sicker than just a whiney baby.

I miss writing, but I promise I am not just being a spoiled (we all know i am) incubator. There are days that I literally slept all day and I couldn't tell you when where what how or with whom anything got done.
In fact, i'm slowly peicing together parts of each month with the hubs and the roomie, because honestly I was just so sick i lost a week or so here an there.

And being stubborn and being a "worker" has been hard for me.  I don't like laying around...ok wait let me correct that. I don't like laying around when it wasn't my idea to just lay around.  I don't like being forced to rest. Even though i know i need to just cruise through this.  I'd just started an amazing work out routine and I can't do it. ITS KILLING ME to see this treadmill standing steadfast next to my desk in my bedroom and I am resticted from it.
In the long run I know its for lil CWB to be the best lil ninja sithe punisher he can be, but I'm still pouty.

I've got several friends who are ftm and btdm ( first time moms and been there done thats moms) who are having babies around the same time as me who are doing things like hiking in the rockies, crossfit,   a stage production of the wiz with three daily shows.  I hate them.
I can't drive to the gorcery store with out puking.

I'm just saying that even though its almsot done and I know the "worst"  and "best" parts are coming...well, yeah... i'm not always a complainer but i've been the worlds worst pregnant chic.

And even though I'm mostly smiling...its because I really can't stop the natural instinct to smile for the camera.  Those smiles are hiding some fierce determination to adopt all of Cannon's Siblings.

And I feel so bad y'all. Because I asked for this glorious mess. I prayed for every bit of this with just as much passion and furvor as I'm sure Hannah Prayed.  If anyone had seen me on my knees the would have thought not only was i drunk but higher than snoop dog eating brownies at willie nelson's house.

I realize that guilty mom syndrome has already set in.  And Even though I'm not the first or the last and or even unique in my situation...i still can't help but be Drea about it. I'm sorry if you've been annoyed with my bitching.... actually i'm not. I worked hard to get here. To this place were I can cry randomly cuz I peed on my self five seconds after leaving the bathroom. I'm not sorry if I've acted like the only woman to ever puke standing in the shower so she can rinse of the inevitable urine.

The only people I think I  am really sorry to is those who haven't or still can not realize the dream of a gift i've been given. I wish I could say with certainty "your turn is coming"  I wish i could promise that it will be just like this for them someday.  For those people. I am sorry if this has been too in your face.  Thank you for being on this train with me regardless.

I love you

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Thinking without my glasses on aka i should be sleeping but i'm staring at the ceiling fan.

Today I had a long conversation with an old friend and its been on my mind every since.
He was telling me how he'd broken up with his wife... again...wait let me clarify : his third wife in fifteen years... third seperation from said wife in two years.
While he was talking I was thinking "dude, you sure can pick 'em"   but tonight, laying here trying to decide if i want pickles and pop corn or pickles and ice cream ( hey hey i'm pregnant i get to want wierd shit) I was thinking... "meh, what if its not the women...what if its really just him?"

I mean honestly, you're having nearly identical problems in three different marriages to three very distinctive women. It can't all be them right?

I'm mean granted he tends to go for a certain type of "golddigger" but HEY he has a type.

So it made me think of all the times I broke my own heart.   And by that I mean it really wasn't a situation of me changing or that person changing  or growing but of me faking like something was ok when it wasn't.  We get so excited about the instant attraction and lust. We get wrapped up in the archetype of forever monogamy and love.  We forget the possibility of fleeting joy and momentary happiness and try to make a fling last forever.  Some times things just aren't meant to last.  They are one or maybe a few time uses and then you're supposed to trade 'em in for the next model. Its like trying to use an analog phone on a digital network... yeah the call might go through, but can you hear me now?

Honest to goodness, sometimes in life we break our own hearts.

Its easy to say that someone did or didn't' do, but at the end of the day if you can look back with a hundred percent open hearted honesty, its really not so much about the other person, but about you.

we have these expectations and we forget that expectations are just about as useful as  opinions. Everyone has them...expectations and opinions, its just rare that they are the same..and even if they do match up there ar those tricky lil grey areas where one might vary just slightly from the other.

Most times those slight variances are bigger than we want to believe. they are huge like..grand canyon wide chasms.  For one person  its a shruggin matter  "meh, ok" bur for another person its a hard line. no crossing no "meh" about it.

Whats that got to do with breaking your own heart?  Well, that's the thing  some times in order to get a long we "meh" about things that aren't really "meh" able.   We want the end result, so we cave on things that actually we probably should have drawn a hard line on.   Its not that the other person didn't live up to our expectation..we negotiated our expectation or "hard line" with ourselves in order to "fit" with the other person. our hard line now has a splinter and the more we rub up against it the more that splinter irritates the shit out of us. It becomes infected and it festers. Forms a boil full of puss and when that sucker explodes-- KABOOOOM!  Mount Vesuvius is Jealous.  But is it the other persons fault that our hearts are broken?  Did they take a tiny chisel and start chipping away, fissure-ing little lines of demarcation on our spirit or did we, in our quest for the fantasy, do all of that?   Did we smile when and giggle, batting our eyes in a coquettish manner to cover the tears when we really wanted to let them fall and yell "mother fucker what the hell..."?

Yeah...we often break our own hearts by not at least acknowledging the little thing...we thing we've hammered out the big stuff so hey don't sweat the rest... and maybe the rest isn't sweat worthy. But what if it is... what if aaaallllll those little things add up and then become big things?  What if we didn't hammer out all the big things: " are we  exclusive, fuck buddies, getting married, playing house, having kids" and so worrying about the little things is just a distraction from the fact that the elephant is not only pink...NOT ONLY in the room, but is getting its dick sucked by two politicians and a flamingo in leather?

There is a whole circus of shit going on but WE keep sweeping it under the rug and when shit goes to hell in a hand basket we start tossing the blame:  "he she they did said didn't"

But do we look  back and say...i should have spoken?  I should have said or done?  I should have drawn a hard line and accepted that what i expected verses what was happening wasn't matching up.  I sacrificed. I gave up on or overlooked.   Some times we are so focused on the BIG PICTURE, the END GAME... that we aren't even aware how horrible the battles really are.   We often hear "can't see the Forrest for the trees", but sometimes you gotta take a look at all those trees. Are they really trees or are they weeds that have gotten out of hand?  Is the garden really thriving or is it overgrown?  Is that pimple really going to heal on its own or do we just need to pop that sucker and flush it with some peroxide?   Did so and so really break our hearts or did we just fail to meet our own expectations.

Friday, February 13, 2015

Confessions of a future former fat .... MOMMY

Confessions of a future former fat chic MOMMY

Well, the last time I was here was my birthday. Whoda thunk it? THIRTY FOUR!  And boy was I doing it up big, lol. I partied all week and ate too much and gave zero fucks…man, I gave so much less than zero fucks there isn't a negative number to equate with it.  So many fucks…so much fucking *clears throats*… Ummm ah hem… yeah, so ummm.

Anyway, basically if you know me (and you do) you know I had a great holiday season. SO GREAT in fact that I ended up getting the gift of a life time.  God works in mysterious ways. LOL He waits until your giving less than a damn then whamo you’re knocked up. LOL,  You guys already know this, but just to clarify…Alpha/Prime and I are expecting our first child this summer.

Ok ok stop laughing!  Most of you who've been along for this ride with me know that the one thing I really was focused on in all our “efforts” was to NOT be pregnant during the summer. At least not big fat can’t wait to pop pregnant.  We should have all known that I’d mess it up.  Sometime back in 2013 I watched  “what to expect when you’re expecting” and over a bucket of margaritas and a several rolls of paper towels ( I was hormonal and had just had an mc) I said to my Godbrother “you know that’s gonna be me: if and when it finally happens, I’m gonna have one of those horrid pregnancies. Puke Pee and sleep.”

BOY WAS I EVER RIGHT.  I’m not going to regale any one with all of that right now but suffice it to say, if ever there was a self fulfilling prophecy I spoke it that day.  Not only that but we are firmly in winter's grip here in North East Texas, and I've been regularly wearing flip flops, shorts and tank tops.  Yeah, you read that right...and the temp isn't supposed to get much lower except and odd day here or there.  Its gonna be a hot effin summer.   

 We made a very conscious choice to actually announce this pregnancy (something we've never done before) and share the entire journey…knowing that there could be a chance for  …well we’ll just leave that unspoken. Its still fairly early in the game and we are still waiting cautiously. Every breath is a prayer. Every check up sends our nerves through the rough. But we are hopeful and prayerful and gratefulSo far we are delighted.  I mean lets be real. I’m tired of the severe nausea (I'm seriously one step from being admitted and attached to iv's but i'm doing my best to avoid it) and the puking and the not eating and the sleeping, BUT I wouldn't trade it for the alternative! Each day that we progress is a blessing and I’m thankful. Even when I’m face down in the toilet, my heart sings.

And I’m thankful for all the support.  Yes, I sometimes roll my eyes at the advice. And some days, I kinda just want to vent and not get any advice, but I knew I couldn't do this journey without you all. Everything reminds me of how blessed I really am.
So when I’m here, most of what you’ll be hearing is my take on pregnancy and all its joys.  Some of it you may have already heard if you follow me on the book of faces. *shrugs* it is what it is.
I started this post three full hours ago, I’ve stopped to pee every ten minutes and I’ve managed to forget where I was going with this when I sat down so I guess I’m done.  Time to take the meds and wait for sleep to claim me. (scary right, the insomniac sleeping!  DUDE AND I MEAN SLEEEEEEEEPPPPPINNNNG, like i'll see you guys in 14 hours or so type of sleeping.)

Blessings and Shenanigans!


Sunday, December 7, 2014

To Dréa On Her 34th Birthday

Traditionally, I do this as a note on facebook, but this year is new and so the format should be a bit different.  It started a few years back and I guess some people are rather used to it. So much so that I got several messages about it.  I was going to do an update about being a future former fat girl, but talking about the weight I lost and then gained and then kind of lost and then KINDA regained can wait.  I've only got a couple of hours left in my birthday and since I basically slept the day away (hey! Don't read too much into that; I had other adventures leading up to it and there are tons of things planned for the weeks after it), I figured, I could do SOMETHING productive. So I drug myself from the comfort of my books, blankets, birthday pizza and one last cup cake(Oh,Tesh, you don't know what you've done to me with those cupcakes!) with a cup of coffee and here I sit to pontificate and remunerate. 

I almost let this year go by. Honestly, the call of the sheets and pillows was so strong that I could have stayed in bed until today was tomorrow and never batted an eye. But alas you’ve been haunting me since the moment a sweet voice sang “happy birthday” at midnight.  What wisdom do you have for me this year? What words of encouragement, adventure, and bravado will you spew into the universe on this 34th anniversary of your arrival on this planet?

You weren’t the only one, among the myriad of birthday wishes via social media, email, and text messages also came the entreaties of “hey, did you write a letter to yourself this year?  Where is the letter to you from you?

I’ve kind of circled around the idea all day and thought to myself, “What can I say to you that we don’t already know? Haven’t already looked each other in the eye and said a million and one times before?”

I thought of a couple of quotes I’d seen recently.  One by Jose Chaves
“I’m done chasing after better versions of myself, as if I’m never good enough as is: I’m tired of taking myself back to the store, and saying, I’m broken, flawed, or not what I wanted; from now on, I’m going to take myself out in whatever condition I’m I, and fly myself like a kite, high above the rooftops and say, “ I love being this crazy fucking kite, and there’s never going to be another one like it again.”
I think that one is pretty self explanatory; it comes on the heels of so many pep talks from so many wonderful people. Encouragement that I’ve tried to absorb but for some reason there was this barrier, that just wouldn’t let it truly sink in.  I know I’ve been trying so hard to put on this face… this façade of confidence bold as brass. Vibrant and open, but truly inside I’ve been trying to meld myself into whatever shape, mold that would be most acceptable. Most palatable to those I wanted to please.  I wasn’t satisfied, not because I wasn’t satisfied but because I still felt I had to be and do what was expected. I needed to dance even though I knew the song wasn’t right. I needed to go through all the steps, or at least pretend to practice them even though I knew I didn’t know what the fuck the moves were supposed to be. I needed this year to give the perception of having it together. Of being on track, not because I was and not because anyone told me I had to be, but because after being off the rails for so long, I felt like people were tired of waiting on me to “get on board”.
I’m over that.  Being on board. Being glued together. Smiling as a bandaid.  I’m also over a lot (probably not all) of the false bravado, the whiskey courage, the fake it till I make it.  I’m just going to be me. Broken, bent, bruised, battered, brazen, bold, belligerent, bossy, bitchy, brainy, bullheaded and bound to fuck it up:  Me!

The other thing I saw was a poem by Tyler Knott Gregson,“ I just may be the strangest person you will ever know. I am filled with too many oddities and too few consistencies and I will always lack the spongey filter that should live between brain and mouth. These defining traits these enduring characteristics and these fingers crossed that in all of it, you will find them irresistible.”

That poem pretty much lets you know that my “declaration” above isn’t carved in stone.  I will probably always be a mix mash of contradictions. I am ok with that. 

I’d also be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to thank my heart. Something magical has happened in the weeks leading up to this birthday. And while I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to share with the world I can say this, my heart…my cup runneth over.

So to Dréa on her 34th birthday, I say this:
Dear Dréa,
As always it has been a long and adventurous trip around the moon.  You’ve accomplished nothing and everything, and that too is uniquely usual for you. There are so many things to say to encourage yourself this year. So many platitudes and mantras; they mean everything and nothing all at once.  You’ve discovered who you are and who you aren’t. Who you wish you were and who you’ll never be.
You’ve closed doors and given witness to wounds. You’ve opened cans and boxes and jars, even knowing the destruction that would come.  You’ve gained understanding and you’ve thought yourself into even more confusion.
You’ve been fabulous and fierce. You’ve been weak and weary. You’ve been wonderfully dreadfully human. And today, on the beginning of your thirty-fourth trip around the sun, you’re just as (un)prepared as you should be for what this world has to offer.
You’re on the cusp of greatness as you’ve always been.  On the tight rope of life just like every other poor sucker out there.  Keep your eyes forward and worry about yourself. It’s the only way to make it. In years past you’ve worried about others even when they themselves have warned you not to. Time to take that to heart. Now, that doesn’t mean I want you to turn in to a stone cold bitch, it just means it’s truly time to put you first.  Not just petty wants and desires, but real goals…not the goals that you spout of like rhetoric because you know how to impress, but what’s really in your heart. Whatever moment  you are in, LIVE IT! LIVE THAT MOMENT OUTLOUD AND ON PURPOSE DRÉA!  If you’re sad be sad. Feel it without regret. When you’re happy be happy! Be ecstatic. Be unapologetically alive. Buy those shoes because they are hawt to death!
Oh and get on that treadmill, not because you have to or anything but because you really do feel good when you do it.
And those little secrets you’ve been keeping. Those are cool as fuck. I like those…scratch that I LOVE THOSE! Enjoy them and know that just like the secrets have said “it’s no body’s business but ours.” 
Those people were that said you share too much are right. Not because they were right, you don’t share too much in the sense they mean, but you share too much in the sense that you keep nothing for yourself. You give away all that you have to give and leave nothing for yourself. Stop that.  Keep something in reserve. Some energy stashed away like a coveted candy, imported from the fartherest reaches of the realms. Hell girl, there is a chocolate AND a pork shortage. BE GREEDY!  Be greedy with yourself, if only just a little bit. 
Be a hermit, no code black warning systems just ghost.
Bask in the love of Alpha/Prime . MonaLisa smile at the thought of people trying to figure that out and how wrong they are going to be because you like to tease and you know it.
There are so many things that I could say to us today, some of them I’m not ready to put on a page for the world to see let alone acknowledge between you and me o’girl, but you know what’s in our heart.
I leave you with this thought, this wish, this prayer:
Be Happy Dréa, you deserve it.

Happy 34th Birthday,
You, Me, Us.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Confessions of a Future Former Fat Female

Confessions a future former fat female…

Day one:
Well, its not really day one. I think day one is the day that you decide that enough is enough, that it is finally time to do SOMETHING.  But today is day one of the new diet life style change.  AKA don't eat that eat this.

Thanks to Zac Smith here is the plan: I'm changing  the way I eat (which means going from one or two meals a day to 6 portion controlled meals spread out through the day)  and getting active (45 mins of cardio before meal one). The menu is set for the next 4-8 weeks. Hopefully by the half way point it will be habit AND I will be in the gym regularly.

Before I tell you how it’s going let me list out my fears. Why list them? A good friend told me that if you speak your fears out loud you can analyze and confront them more easily.
So here they are:

*Failure… I’m afraid to fail… I've said that I was going to do this many times before. Hell, I think I've blogged about it. And I've failed.  Not only did I fail, I failed in the most spectacular of ways. I gave up. I didn't have the motivation to really do it.  I didn't have the back bone to keep going when I knew I should. Sometimes I even took a small measure of success (a lost inch or pound) as  a reason to stop.

*Floppy skin: Don’t laugh. I have a fear of excess skin. Losing weight (thanks biggest looser and like shows for scaring me) especially a rapid weight loss CAN leave behind excess skin. I don’t know about anyone else but my insurance doesn't cover that!  Where am I gonna put that? (OK, you can laugh…I laugh ((albeit nervously)) it’s a silly fear. I’m still scared of it.

*Judgment:  Gyms theoretically are for people who are trying to get fit. But we all know there is a sense of dread that every future former fat person has about working out in public spaces. We already know we are fat and out of shape and we imagine that every person who is pumping iron or spinning their legs like the cast of Scooby Doo™  or bending into impossible yoga poses with perfect form is staring at us, judging us.  Most of them aren’t. Some of them are former fat people. Some of them are future fat people. How many times have we seen pictures of people trying to get in shape on social media as the butt of jokes? No one wants that for themselves. 

*Bland boring food:  dude, need I say more. I’m short fat and southern. I’m a self proclaimed foodie. I not only like to eat/taste. I like to cook it. I’ve know all year I was going to get to a point where I didn’t want to be fat. Every time I started to join a gym or contact a nutritionist; I ate a donut to appease my insulted taste buds and wipe the thought from my memory. I know I’ll eventually get back to the point where I can eat whatever I want (within portion controlled reason), it’s the giving it up for now(insert blue man groups I’m blue and come to the revelation that he says  “if I were green I would die”) that has me sad.

OK so that’s some of what I’m scared of,  but what I’m even more afraid of is not getting healthy. I don’t mind dying but I’m not ready to go yet. And I definitely don’t want to go for keeling over trying to walk through the mall or grocery store or worse watching TV on my couch.

I’m afraid of being 5’7 (ish) and having measurements that read 56-54-57. I don’t feel like a brick house. Hell, I don’t even feel like a barn.  I feel like an over inflated beach ball.  Don’t get me wrong, I know that I’m cute. I know I can dress for my body shape and turn heads in a positive light. I know that my husband loves every dip and curve, but I DON’T love it anymore.  I tolerate it because the options are tolerating it or change it. I’m ready to change it.

I want to be able to do a full 45 minutes on the tread mill.  What’s more I want to do it without stopping. Without crying because I have to slow the program down. Without nearly flying off the back and making Dréa shaped holes in the wall.

So today is day one. I only managed 20 minutes on the treadmill this morning, but that’s 20 minutes I haven’t done in years. I don’t like quinoa flakes and almond milk. Not even with Honey. But I’m determined to go choke them down (along with vinegar water) because if choking them down means I can get to be LESS of me, then lets do this.

So here are the stats…( I don’t know when I’ll up date them).
Dréa Riley
Age 33(almost 34)
Height 5’7”(ish)
Weight 310 (actually the scale said less yesterday but let’s just be safe)
Bust 56”
Waist 54”
Hips 57”

Thighs 34”


 (this is me excited to be smaller)   If you're interested in getting Zac's help you should check him out at http://zacsmithfitness.com/  Other wise I'll see you guys for an update next month on my 34th Birthday!

*DISCLAIMERS: I don't know Zac Personally. I searched through all the hotties that I'm exposed to on FB and via my writer friends and bam there he was. I liked his story. I liked the fact that he gives zero fucks and isn't afraid to say so.  I haven't purchased a personalized work out plan.  Because I'm a realist. I gotta be able to MOVE before I can jump into circuits and reps and sets and all that lingo. That's my goal for my birthday next month: to have the ability and energy to be in the gym regularly with a customized plan of action as well as meal plans. For now, he customized a meal plan for me and suggested I get started getting off my ass ( he didn't say it that way. he was actually really sweet and said " I want you to make a big effort to get more active and start going for walks. Walking the dog or anything subconsciously will be burning calories. For maximum results when shredding body fat, I suggest doing cardiovascular exercise upon waking up without eating meal 1. This is called fasted cardio. I advise you do this! ") and get active.   I'm going for it.