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Showing posts from August, 2010

What's cookin' good lookin'?

Blah blah -- watch the vlog.

"I can see in your face that you're a loser!"

The title of this post is a comment that a friend sent to me on Facebook. I started a Marissology fan page and sent out invites for people to join. I suspect this friend saw new photos of me. The play on words caused me to laugh my ever decreasing tushy off. I won't call him out on it since he did send his thoughts in a private message, but it was just too cute for words not to share. I do havesome BIG! Ginormous!! HUGE-GANTIC!! news to share. Kind of ironic considering the gargantuan news is about something getting smaller.  Yes, another weight loss update. *cartwheel* Today, August 29, 2010 I stepped up on the scale to have it remain for a week solid on ....... never mind the number.  It tells me that I have lost FORTY POUNDS of back fat, booty slap, jiggling cottage cheese and BINGO! wings since my decision to get healthy began with three shakes a day for 3 days with Shakeology on the 3-day Cleanse. It has not been easy.  There is absolutely no sense in trying to make

Stand Tall

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For as far back as I can remember in my childhood we were told to stand up straight.  Our mother was a stickler for good posture.  At any given moment one of us would feel the pressure of her pointy finger in the middle of our backs instantly causing our shoulders to pull back as if they'd been tethered with a counter weight.  Her reason to me was that it would make me appear confident, thinner AND when I aged and got bigger boobs they'd seem less droopy.  Mom was right. Naturally. My own son hasn't been inflicted with my index finger.  As he set off for the bus this morning I called out to him, " Pull your shoulders back !"  Instantly, he did.  But it looked painfully unnatural.  His head was still cocked down like the dopey vulture from the cartoons.  " We'll work on fixing that. Have a great day !"  And he shuffled off surely releasing his posture to the slumpiness that screams Shaggy of Scooby Doo.  Poor posture isn't limited to my vide

Give me asylum: A monthly request

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Right to the point: I'm a girl who has needed a check up from the neck up. Thumbing through the Yellow Pages for a shrink isn't what is inferred. Although, that would probably do me a world of good. After all, there are plenty of reasons for the manner in which I act and react to situations in my life. Knee jerk reactions that often leaving me wishing I was someone else. Stop. The eight sided, fire engine red sign is held up in my mind. Maybe it is progress that I'm capable of catching my negative responses to even the simplest things. However ... you knew this was coming, right? This past week has been very trying. Why? Well, facing my increasing age is not something that weighs heavily on my mind.  Getting older means I'm still here on planet Earth.  Good, right? Yes, but as a woman it's often a battle of the hormones. Guys, this might be the point where you wince or stop reading.  It is your decision, but it could get graphic.  I'm writing this

Confessions from a Wildhair

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I have a confession to make. I've lacked motivation for two months.  Regardless of the wild success experienced in the first 90 days of my weight loss journey, I have lost the edge of ambition.  My workouts haven't eased up.  If anything I have pushed myself harder.  The reason? It seemed the best thing to get over the hump. Yet, something triggered the junk food junky in me.  The addict reared her fat, cellulite covered, sloppy, disgusting self.  I've been pretending that everything is hunky dory and nothing can get in the way of me and my goals.  I've lied to you. It was done as a means to convince myself that it was only temporary and if I talked a big game I'd believe it.  Wrong. I'm humbly sorry and ashamed.  Wearing the mask is uncomfortable and I've got to be me. Today, as with last three days, have held me under the weather.  Headaches and nausea abound as I force myself to workout each morning.  Although, today I succumbed to it.  Whatever it

Another day older and wiser (?)

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Technically I'm a few days older than I was the last time I wrote on my blog.  My birthday came and went without incident.  Driver's license was renewed at the facility that time forgot.  I would swear that when the phone rang (a ring not unlike that of the avocado green colored phone that hung in our kitchen back in the '70s), the person answering would be greeted by Ernestine "One ringy dingy" the phone operator.  Lavender and ivory roses were delivered sent to me by my 'dearest'.  Attached was a beautifully written, personal message -- hint: I'm not telling you.  The rest of the day was spent with my Mancub.  His birthday gift from his dad finally arrived via Fed Ex and he was anxious to spend it. I happily obliged. Then we went out for lunch.  That brings me to the next order of business.  My diet has been absolutely dreadful for about three weeks.  Honesty is the best policy when holding oneself accountable.  Since being emotional on video abo

Birthzilla or just a girl who really needed a party?

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I haven't kept it a secret that my 45th birthday is approaching.  Yes, I'm still pushing for it to be a national holiday.  Hey! Lofty dreams aren't a crime.  It's a rarity for the scenarios that happen in my noggin to occur in real life. Therefore, I know I won't awaken to find a loin clothed hotty serving me breakfast in bed nor will that be followed with a chauffeured escort to a spa where I'll receive my first ever full body massage -- happy ending optional.  Instead, my day will consist of one known detail: I have to renew my driver's license. It didn't dawn on me until last night that this is the year it expires.  How often do you look at your state ID? The only reason my peepers got a look at mine is because I took it from its hermetically sealed entrapment in my wallet.  Why? Because, now don't laugh too hard, I was going out and thought some silly ass might card me.  Shut! UP! The signs behind the bars always say if you don't look 99

Sixteen Candles

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Family and friends gathered to celebrate My son's 16th birthday. After downloading the photos to the pc, it dawned on me that no pictures were taken of me with my son. My sister Maureen was the first to see my 9 pound 2 ounce bundle of love. So, with that in mind it seemed fitting that she'd be next to him as he blew out his candles and made a wish. For the record, I managed to sing "Happy Birthday" without falling apart and becoming a sobbing mess. Hooray for small miracles. Earlier that day we had to head out to his high school to register for his sophomore year. Weird! It conjured up memories of my own 16th birthday. I, too, was registering for school. My junior year. Unlike Mancub, after getting my student ID photo taken, my sister Mary and I drove to the Illinois equivalent of the DMV. We don't call it the DMV here. Anyway, I got my driver's license ON my sweet 16. My son is slotted to take driver's education first semester. EEP! Valium may

"Come out, come out wherever you are"

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Check in time came August 5, 1994 at Olympia Fields Hospital was supposed to be 6 AM via the emergency room entrance. It seemed no one was alerted to this arrangement. By 7 AM we were filling out the necessary paperwork. Between the grumbling of hunger from having not eaten since the prior evening and the nervousness of what was about to happen, my stomach was a mess. Once checked in and brought to the maternity ward around 8 AM, I was informed that the labor and delivery rooms were occupied.  Coincidentally with women from our Lamaze class. They'd elected to receive epidurals which was making their labor time longer.  I was assured that my grueling time on the thin mattress/gurney like bed wouldn't be all day. This would eventually become a bold face lie.  All the necessary IV hookups were made.  The waiting began.  It didn't take too long for me to see Pitocin aided contractions registering on the monitor.  Nothing major.  I figured this would be a piece of cake.  Sti

Growing pains

Sixteen years ago today I began experiencing contractions.  Since I wasn't due for another two weeks, I just assumed they were part of pregnancy.  With only one car in our possession, I drove my then husband to work at 6 AM. Unusual to all of my other doctor's appointments, that day was an afternoon visit. Having one car definitely created a crimp in our flexibility, but you do what you have to when financial constraints dictate your lifestyle. While waiting for the gate at my (ex) husband's employer, my breath was taken from me. Never had I experienced such a thing before. Oh, I had hiccup like contractions, but not one that lasted any significant period of time. Nor had my breathing been interrupted as a result.  Throughout the day I'd experienced a few more contractions. Nothing consistent. So, I didn't fret since I'd be seeing my ob/gyn later in the day.  It's likely I called upon my sister Maureen for advice.  Memories are kind of foggy.  Each time a

Arms: Bands or dumbbells

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this style available through Beachbody As you know I am using the newest Beachbody workout program called Turbo Fire . It is intense. HIIT -- High Intensity Interval Training -- workouts fire up calorie burning like none other.  I love it.  Prior to using this program I used Power 90 (the pre P90X workout by Tony Horton ) and Turbo Jam by Chalene Johnson.  Both programs provided effective sculpting workouts that really gave my shoulders, back and biceps definition.  Sure, there's a layer of fat so it makes me seem more bulky.  I have no doubts the muscles will be lean and sexy through diet and increased cardio workouts.  Turbo Fire incorporates sculpting and toning, too.  It's not all high intensity cardio, but that is a primary focus.  Here's the hitch:  On the DVD they use resistance bands.  I do not like them for arm work. They have a great place when I'm on the floor and using them for rowing or core strengthening, but, for me, they are wonky and awkward. N