Oh Dear

Oh Dear, my new plan may not work out very well.  Here I am, Day No 2 or so, and I am on a business trip with no control over my meals and I am subjected to open bar receptions.  This is fine for my professional development and I am making great contacts nationwide - even internationally, as I had a semi lengthy conversation with an Italian engineering professor who lives in New Zealand.  I am learning a lot.

I am not, however, losing weight.  In fact, I am so full at the moment that I am a tad disgusted, and I feel bloated, sleepy, and altogether blah.  I had lofty goals to show all you Constant Readers how it can be done.  How you can make healthy choices, and come out on top, even on business trips.  How you can go to the hotel gym.  I am told it is on the 27th floor.  I am not able to verify that firsthand. 


I do not understand why this was such a failure.  After all, I did no research, no planning, and was only half committed in the first place.  What could go wrong?

Initially, I thought I would take a picture of my meals, and diligently log them into an online food journal when I got back.  I began with a large, but healthy breakfast, in hopes that I would not partake of any mid-morning snacks, and I aimed for about 400 calories.  This is more than the typical breakfast, which is 300 calories for me, but I figured it was taking the place of a snack.  And this did work out.  I did not eat again until lunch, when we were served a lovely salad and a chicken breast over beans.  Unfortunately, I was still hungry after the healthy stuff, and ate a semi-delicious dessert that had been set out at my place prior to my arrival.  The dessert was too sweet, and not to my taste, but I ate it anyway, because it would be wasted if it did not enter my digestive tract.

Dinner was a bit of a disaster, because after two drinks at the open bar, I no longer remembered or cared about my intentions.  And after the, uuhhh, fourth drink, I had lost count of the little quiches and Mexican spring roll thingies.

Today was worse.  Here is what I remember eating today:  egg with bacon quiche, two muffins, a small pastry, a chicken wrap, some pasta salad, beans, a lemon bar, a small bag of cheddar and caramel popcorn (in the same bag for some reason), a second lemon bar, a mint-chocolate truffle, a brownie, a few sprigs of asparagus, a piece of celery and a piece of zucchini, a hamburger slider, a chicken bite, a fried spring roll, a piece of brie with pastry and fruit, some adorable little appetizers of unknown, bite size chemistry, a plate of risotto and three Samuel Adams Original Lagers.

And that's just what I remember.

I am hoping this little list might help me out tomorrow.  And maybe, just maybe, I might check out the 27th floor before I head to get deep dish pizza and tours of the Hancock and Willis Buildings.  Did you know that's what they call the Sear Tower now?

Whachu talkin' bout Willis?

New Direction

I'm going back to my roots, Constant Readers.  This blog began as a means to discuss my awesomeness and occasional struggles with weight loss.  It slowly moved away from that as I lost interest in writing about losing weight.  Incidentally, I also lost interest in losing weight.  Let's face it, folks.  It ain't fun.  It ain't easy.  And it is a tad discouraging.  I had weeks of extreme planning, for every little morsel that entered my mouth, and for every expended sweaty calorie.  At the ends of those weeks, I managed weight loss - even up to a pound or three.  And the next week, I'd try to do it all again.  That second week might have a slip or two - maybe a glass of wine or a chocolate chip cookie.  Perhaps I would miss a workout.  And the result?  Not only a significant decrease in my losses, but sometimes a freaking gain!

What is the point?  If I have to be that rigorous every week for weeks and weeks and weeks, it simply isn't worth it.  It's not like my self esteem revolves around my waistline, after all.  I'm perfectly happy sipping suds poolside in my non-two piece suit.  I'm not looking for a modeling deal or a movie star boyfriend.  I don't need to replace my wardrobe with items itsy bisty or teeny weeny.

On the other hand...
I want to be healthy.  I want to be able to take the stairs, if I so desire.  I remember how good it felt to eat well and to get the most from this less than perfect body.  It was nice to fit into smaller clothes, and to know that the image in the mirror was the best me I could be.  I never felt bloated or crampy or just plain "blah" when I was watching what I ate.  I felt good.

But how to perform this juggling act?  To maintain some interest in the plan, indeed, to have fun with the plan?  Well, here's the plan:  I'm going to try some healthy diet and exercise plans for one month at a time, and report to you, Constant Readers, on my successes and frustrations.

But where oh when will I relate my zany exploits?  I am thinking they may slide through now and again, much to the chagrin of those among us with attention spans longer than a gnat's.  I just can't help it.  Case in point?  When exiting the gym today I noticed a yoga mat that appeared to be left by its owner, and I stopped at the front desk to tell someone.  There were free fruit snacks at the desk - real dried fruit covered in yogurt - and I began searching through the flavors, and forgot to tell them about the mat.

So if you are missing your yoga mat, it is in locker #53.

WE ARE Penn State

I have a confession to make.  I went to Penn State.  Until last week, this was a positive thing.  I have been very surprised by the benefits I receive due to my Penn State degree.  I got my first job from a former Penn Stater and I now talk to many employers who say they specifically seek Penn State grads in my field.  (I can't speak for other fields, but the engineering program at Penn State is pretty well respected.)  As such, many potential clients and competitors are former Penn Staters, and the most common reactions I get when asked about my alma mater are "Oh, I went there too!", and "Oh, my cousin's nephew's best friend went there, do you know him?"  (By the way, I do not.)

This week, the reactions have been more along the lines of, "Oh, I'm sorry."  As if I had something to do with the terrible news headlines of late.  I even considered not replacing my Penn State magnets on the back of my car after I finished washing it today.  So then I thought, how can I turn this around?  I have no say in whether Penn State decides to donate their ticket sales this week to a charity (though I like the idea).  I have no say in whether the head coach deserves the blame for not doing more.  Do the citizens of Germany during the 1940's deserve blame for the horrors of the concentration camps?  I think there could be debate for either side, but generally, I say they do not deserve the blame, but they should take responsibility for the solution.

This is why I decided to look up a local charity that helps abused children, their parents, and even the abusers.  I made a donation "from a Penn State Alum".  It is not much, but maybe if everyone does just one positive thing, we can rise above the actions of one jackass and become the erudite members of society we think WE ARE.

And for good measure, I finally decided to post my version of the "Where I'm From Poem" which I revised to reflect my experience at Penn State.  (Post your own or add to the comments.  The template can be found here.)

WE ARE…

WE ARE from extra long twin sheets, from Chicken Cosmos and Milwakee’s “Beast” Ice. 

WE ARE from the East Halls parking lot (icy, barren, it seemed it would take a lifetime to cross it on a cold winter morning). 

WE ARE from Mount Nittany, the unhiked state park trails and cornfields surrounding campus.

WE ARE from teapot renditions and dishroom towels, from Louass and Bagg and Boob. 

WE ARE from the work study programs and Caps Tournaments. 

From “when we grow up we’ll go to Penn State” and “that’s where dad wrote his initials in front of Patee Library.” 

WE ARE from “We know god is a Penn State fan because the sky is Blue and White” and using the church next to Beekman’s bagels to point us in the direction of campus.

WE ARE Pittsburgh or Philly, from strip sandwiches, whoopie pies, “Death by Chocolate” and “Peachy Paterno”.

From the stolen block of cheese, and did we mention it was five pounds?, and the racing of the keg across town to Suzanne’s place. 

WE ARE from Brodie’s old photo albums, so young, so thin, not knowing we’d remember the days till we’re 40.

WE ARE.....PENN STATE!

 

No matter how hard I scrubbed, I just couldn't get the spots from those magnets to blend in, so I'm putting them back on.  A testament to the rarity of a car wash?  Shut up, Constant Reader, I'm trying to make a point.

Paranormal Nuerosis

A few weeks ago, we flicked through the choices of movies on the Netflix stream and came across "Paranormal Activity".  Adam had seen it and said it was good, and I astutely noted that "Paranormal Activity 3" is out, so it must have been decent.  (Any sane person, of course, is thinking of "Halloween 14" or whatever they are up to now and realizing the flaw in my logic.  The "Sequel Theory" most definitely does not apply to horror films.)

However, I was in the mood for a mystery, and so we watched the movie.  It is one of those "Blair Witch" or "Cloverfield" types that are filmed as if they are everyday folks with their home videos, and the actors use their real names.  It was pretty good.  Believable, but extraordinary.

It's about a girl who has been haunted by a demon, off and on, for most of her life.  The demon had not shown itself since she was a pre-teen, but had recently returned now that she was an adult, and she was not going to take it anymore.  So she and her fiancee start trying to document the issue.  Let's just say, it does not end well.

I didn't think much of it at the time, but, well, the movie has apparently freaked me out.  You see, it starts as just some bumps and thuds in the night and a door that creaks as it moves by itself.  It only gets worse progressively. 

The other night, the furnace kicked on and made a racket as the baseboards tinked and clinked, and then the cat wedged herself through the slightly open creaky basement door and I nearly had a heart attack.  I tried to laugh at myself as I got up and very quickly shut the door on the dark and noisy furnacey basement with the potential demon lurking in the shadows.

And it has been happening ever since.  I inadvertently brought back a fear of the basement, which I thought I licked in high school.  Different basement, same scary darkness.


Next time, we're watching "Tangled".

Quick Question

Is there a way to tactfully tell a co-worker that his weekly project meeting interferes with your morning poop?  Just wondering...

Queueless

I swear, Netflix is messing with me.  I just went to "My Queue" because it sent us a movie that I wanted to see, but is available for download at any time through the streaming option.  Basically it sent me something I already had for months, and still hadn't bothered to watch.  The thing it sent me before that would have been more at home on my sister's queue.  It was some romantic comedy starring Christina Applegate, and the only possible reason I could conger up for its presence in my home was that I liked "Married With Children" when I was younger.  I have been known to watch a romantic comedy here and there, but generally it is when my mom or sister has some control over the remote control, and I do not recall ever adding it to my queue.

And no, I don't think Sis got on there and rearranged my selections.  I don't even know the password half the time and when I do get through the tight security, I tend to have trouble accessing the Netflix site.

These last two movies were returned after several days of sitting on the counter in limbo.

So I just checked out my queue and there is not a single movie on there that I would like to watch.  I do remember putting these horrible choices on there, and continually moving them to the bottom.  Worse, I cannot think of a recent movie I would like to see.  I am sure there are things out there that I would enjoy. 

I went to the "Suggetions For You" section where, I kid you not, the top choices for me are a cartoon about a boy and his magical dog, a comedy special called "Talking Monkeys in Space", and a Nickelodeon TV show aimed at pre-teenage boys in the mid-nineties.  I am seriously considering the magic dog, and a nature video about Cuttlefish.  You know,  the octopi?  Come on people, cuttlefish!

I don't know.  I did really like "The Adventures of Scott Pilgrim".  Maybe I am a cuttlefish kinda gal.

Me Replacement

OK, I have been watching The Cool TV for hours and apparently it is a channel watched by many many balding men.  The "hair replacement" commercial has been on so many times, I just might be tempted to call.  Why?  You may ask?  Well, my hair follicles seem to be in tact, but:  I have noticed that the hair replacement tends to be supplemented by weight loss, nose jobs, and changes in eye color.  One man in the commercial, and I quote:  "After my hair replacement surgery, I felt like a different person."

Go figure.