Torn

Last post I mentioned that I hadn't been focused on losing weight. That I was still 30 pounds down, but that I did most of that without fixating on the art of weight loss. That I seemed to do better just living life without obsessing over it. Well, I'm torn. There is a sense of urgency now. That lingering feeling that I need to lose X amount by X date. I got on the scale this morning and I was correct in that I had kept off the 30 pounds, but in truth, it was more of a "gained back ten and lost it again" situation. So, why the urgency?

I want to get back to Ireland mid to late October. I'm not quite sure it's possible, but I'm up for the challenge. I have started a fundraising campaign to take on an art project while I'm there. 100 Illustrations: Ireland. It basically involves me traveling the whole of Ireland for a few weeks and documenting it through illustrations, doodles, and journaling. While I did tell everyone not to let their weight hold them back from doing the things they want to do, I am aware of actual physical limitations. I cannot walk or hike or climb the way I would want to when I'm there. I won't be able to do all I want even if I lost 40 or 50 pounds before I go, but that would at least make some of it more feasible.

So, what do I do? Fixate again? Focus all of my efforts on weight loss and fundraising? Do I have it in me? I'm not even sure. I know that I need to. I know that I'm killing myself...which apparently hasn't been motivation enough. Is an epic journey and art project enough? I don't know. I'm just putting it out there...and trying to blog more than once a year.

Sweet. Baby. Jesus.

I'm a shit head...pure and simple. I'm surprised I still have 52 followers. One day I'm telling you that I'm  going to Belfast and then the next...I'm what? Dead? Married? Still wedged in a plane seat at PDX? How would you know...I never posted another entry!

Why? I have nothing to say as it relates to weight loss anymore. Nothing. I haven't succeeded so I can't really tell anyone else how to do it. I've kept off those previously blogged about 30 pounds, though...I guess. I am not even TRYING to lose weight right now so I can't even blog about how I'm failing. So, is that what I should blog about in a blog that was originally created to document my attempts at weight loss? The fact that there are no attempts? Maybe so...

I'm tired. I'm tired of every minute of every day being focused on what I am or am not doing right to lose weight. I am much happier just living my life and loving myself as I am. The fact of the matter is...I was doing much better when I just didn't focus on it. The weight I lost before Belfast was done damn near by accident. Yes, I wanted it off, but I certainly wasn't making any significant efforts. And I lost six pounds in Belfast eating pizza made by my Irishman and all the European chocolate and lattes he'd bring to my hotel room. Best. Diet. Ever.

I'm sure that if I continue to write there will be tons of entries about success and failure again because the fact that I do need to lose weight is not lost on me. I get it. Every day I get it. The way I sometimes feel these days is a bright shiny reminder. I'm just saying...I have to stop letting myself or my life be defined by my weight...and so do you.

For those of you that have been long time readers...remember all those trips I wanted to take and the fear that kept me from it? How scared I was of having to ask for a seatbelt extender or the discomfort I'd feel being squished next to someone else? A lot of you emailed me privately telling me how you feel the same way. Fucking stop it! You have to do it. If you are my size or less especially. I am so glad I finally did it. It has changed my life. I didn't even have to ask for the seatbelt extender. I planned my seats strategically and only once was someone sitting right next to me and that was on the short Belfast to London flight. I always opted for the window seat so that I could nestle myself into the ledge of the window as far from the poor sucker next to me. It was fine. It was great. It was the beginning of the rest of my life.

I leapt. I took a chance. I was brave. I went to meet the love of my life. We fell more in love. We are best friends. We still talk every day. I am hoping to go back in October. We are not in a relationship...it's complicated (isn't it always), but we are so very in love. He has made me that cliche'd better person and loves me for who I am. I better his life and he betters mine and he gives me strength and courage to do all the things I've always wanted to do. Including my first gallery exhibition that is happening September 1st. I am an artist. Not just a girl that likes to draw once in a while. I've been painting and making some cool shit.

I'll write more about the trip later...I have to get back to painting. My message in this entry is clear...LIVE YOUR LIFE NOW, NOT JUST ONCE YOU LOSE THE WEIGHT. 

p.s. thanks for still following me...even if it was an accident ;)

5 years not forgotten

Before I embark on this post, you have to first reminisce with an oldie, but goodie.

Circa 2014

Where we're at. I am a freelance graphic designer and I work out of my home. It's still the house connected to mom and dad, but I am surviving and paying my bills by being self-employed. On January 17th I am getting on a plane and going to Belfast, Northern Ireland (with a layover in London so...doesn't that count as two?). I'm staying two weeks and spending as much time with someone that I've met as possible. I haven't lost 200 pounds (or the one twelve by oh twelve that I wanted to), but I have lost 30. I haven't learned another language, but I still have a couple years.

I cannot stress enough how important it is to believe you can do something. To imagine the things you want for your life and to set out to achieve them. You cannot reach goals without trying. You cannot make dreams a reality without taking action.

I'm keeping this one short and sweet. I know I don't post often. I've been a busy kid. Perhaps while I'm in Belfast I'll have juicy gossip to spread across the blogosphere. Happy New Year, everyone.

Change your mind

The first step to changing your life, in my opinion (is there any other?), is changing your mind. Simple in concept, perhaps not so in execution...at least for most. Somehow, I have done it. There are a few contributing factors (being sick of being sick of myself is a solid start), but one thing that really helped me focus my energy was a book. One simple little book. Here, read this entry on my other blog. If you're open to the possibilities of everything positive thinking can bring to your life, read it. If you're just tired of trying everything and getting nowhere, read it. If you are surrounded by negativity and gagging to change it, read it. Better yet, practice it. Nuff said.

So, how has my mind changed? Assuming (because I'm gangster and I don't care if assuming is dangerous) that you have read my last entry (and if you haven't, what the hell?), you know some things that I've been doing. I mentioned my new arm graffiti and have safety-pinned a photo of it to the top of this entry for good measure. Beautiful, no? The kanji says Kaizen. Literally, Kai means "change" and Zen means "for the better." Now, it's typically a Japanese philosophy tied up with bows for the work place, but I like to repurpose philosophies just as much as flea market finds. It's about doing something every day to better your life. In the work place that would be things to work more efficiently, save money, produce a better product, keep clients happy, etcetera. In my life, it is applied to everything. Every single day I will do something, anything, to better my life. Maybe that's as simple as a bouquet of fresh flowers, journaling to purge my brain of clutter, a nap to boost the energy...if it brings you joy, moves you forward, helps you reach a goal, betters your life in any little way, or just simply makes getting out of bed worth it...do it. Eventually, the harder life improvement tasks (cleaning your house, looking for a job, eating healthy, moving more, taking care of yourself and living a great life) will get easier, or at least become something you can tolerate and get done anyway. The more of those things you do in a day the better. That's part one.

Part two is the L&G. The Love and the Gratitude. Let's face it, being in a bad mood and pissy about everything and whiney and bitchy is, more often than not, easier (far too easy for some). Finding the bright side to every bad situation takes epic creativity sometimes. However, how does the negativity make you feel? Tied up inside, anxious, a right cranky mofo? Usually, it even takes an actual physical toll on your body (tired, achey, sick). Now, how does positivity make you feel? How does a wicked good mood cause you any mental or physical distress? So, in the long run, which one is harder? Be thankful, be happy, be positive. Find joy in even the smallest things and eventually you'll find joy in everything. Focus more on what you do have than what you don't have (unless what you don't have is diabetes or cancer or the like, in which case, how's about being happy about that, too). If that new bouquet of flowers is literally the shining star in your day right now, then sit there and stare at them and bask in the glory that is petals and pollen until your entire being is smiling. Now find something else that makes you happy, rinse, and repeat. If the sound of a snoring puppy makes you giggle as hard as it does me, give your dog some Xanax and start laughing (I kid, naturally, no puppies were harmed in the bettering of my mood). Start thanking people. Thanking God (whoever your God may be). Thanking the Universe. Thank your mailman, your barista, your mom, your gynecologist. Whoever and whatever...just start saying thank you. Start imagining the things you want in and for your life with such great detail and enthusiasm that you feel like you already have it.

These are the first two things I've done to change my frame of mind and subsequently my life. I'll write about other things next time, but for now...Kaizen, bitches!

Be the author of your life story.

Yesterday was my 35th birthday. It was probably the best birthday I've had...which is weird considering I didn't do anything. I watched some TV, talked to a few friends, got some flowers from my aunt, had pizza with Mom and Dad followed by some super ridiculous dessert. I don't think I even left the house. Perfect. I had an amazing couple days with my sister last weekend going to a movie, out to dinner, out to breakfast, to a Portland Timbers soccer game...still, nothing profoundly epic, right? So what is different? What is so great about this birthday?

My attitude.

Those of you that have been following me for quite some time know how the last few years have been for me. Unemployed Student was my defining title for a couple of them and last year that downgraded to just plain Unemployed once I graduated. I would spend most of my days looking on the internet for job opportunities, jumping through any necessary hoops to apply, tweaking my resume to suit each job. More often than not I made myself look like I was dropping design like a bad habit and professing my unwavering desire to answer someone's phones for the rest of my life. I teetered on the edge of depression and sometimes fell head first into it. I found joy in nothing (especially blogging). I didn't want to be around anyone. And if I was forced to be around anyone I found it physically exhausting pretending like everything was ok with me and that I was still attempting to find the bright side to every situation.

My lowest lows were usually right before I was about to run out of unemployment money and when I wasn't sure what extensions I had left. As soon as I would find out I had another few weeks of grace I would breathe a sigh of relief and start all over again. I still didn't want to hang out with friends, though. I didn't want to explain what I was and wasn't doing. I didn't have it in me to listen to the great things they were doing...inevitably feeling worse about myself if I did. I didn't feel like I was particularly interesting to be around, so I continued to stay to myself. It's better to drown alone then to take everyone down with you as you scratch and claw your way back out, right?

Eventually, I stopped worrying so much. Eventually, I remembered that everything just has a way of working out for me. It always has. I have been quite lucky that way. I might worry and stress at the time, but my life is one example after another of how everything that happens is proven to be for the best. That everything has a way of working itself out and I come out stronger in the end. So what if I lost my job in February of 2008? I had grown to hate that job and losing it was a weight lifted off my shoulders and a chance to throw myself into school. So what if all the resumes I sent out resulted in zero phone calls? I have spent the last year dipping my talented hands into so many pots that I can now say that I'm a Freelance Graphic Designer, that I'm a writer, that I'm an artist, that I'm self-employed, that I'm a creative dynamo living the dream. Eventually, I surrounded myself with love and gratitude for everything. I stopped letting everyone else's baggage become my own, stopped walking on eggshells, stopped internalizing, stopped letting everyone else shine brighter than myself. Eventually, my weight stopped defining me, stopped holding me back, stopped mattering so. damn. much.

I find joy in everything now. I wake up happy. I think of something I want to do and I do it, or at least put into action whatever necessary to achieve it. I have sent away for my passport, finally, and I'm going to go to Ireland next Spring. I've lost almost 15 pounds in the last couple months. I visualize what I want and it happens. I said I would win the lottery, I won $4.00 (I need to learn to be more specific). I've always wanted to go to sporting events more often and now Portland has an MLS (soccer) team I couldn't be more excited about. So, I got my sister and I tickets to a few games and got us on the waiting list for season tickets for next year. A couple weeks ago I wanted a new tattoo, I went and got it the next day. It's big and on my forearm. It's to remind me to do something every day to better my life. It's working.

All these years of talking about bettering my life, of not taking the backseat approach. All this time wasted waiting to lose weight before doing anything. I'll get my haircut when I lose 20 pounds. I'll buy new clothes when I lose 50 pounds. I'll start traveling when I lose 100 pounds. No more. Maybe I won't get on a plane until I've lost more weight, but no one says I can't drive down to San Francisco or up to Canada. I've lived a life written by everyone but me. A life dictated by fear. I am the author of my life story and I'm choosing to make it an adventure. What will you write?

Twelve...

drummers drumming? Not so much.

pounds of Thanksgiving food in my belly? No...though it felt like it.

job offers? Eff you for making such a cruel suggestion.

pounds lost? Bingo!

Twelve seems to be a pretty significant number right now. One Twelve by Oh Twelve? Twelve pounds down? Only 100 more and about 57 weeks to do it in to make my New Year's 2012 goal. That's about all the blog I have in me today. We are alive. We are kicking. We are fierce.

Calorie King

blink. blink. blink.

I woke up and went next door to...wait, they'll wonder why I go next door to pee.

blink. blink. blink.

My bathroom...no, they don't really know I have a bathroom of my own yet, let alone that it's been undergoing remodeling for three months. Yes, three months. That's what happens when you let your brother...sigh, nevermind.

blink. blink. blink.

I moved into the house connected to...cheese and rice my brain is scattered this morning.

OK, I've been staring that this dagblasted blinking cursor for eons now trying to calm my brain and find a place to start and as you can see...epic fail.

Around the time of graduation, I worked on fixing up the house connected to mom and dad and summarily moved into it. No more stuff in storage. No more dealing with dad 24/7 or hiding in my little bedroom to avoid it. A slight, albeit modified, sense of freedom. Not having a job means I still rely on them for groceries/meals, that I'm not paying rent right now, and that I still feel like crap for each and every part of it.

Three months ago my brother started remodeling the bathroom (for which we are going to leave out all the details so that I don't go postal on a gallon of ice cream) so that I might some day get to take a shower in my own part of the house. This involved taking everything out of the bathroom and now I not only shower at mom and dad's, but go to the bathroom there as well.

Hence, this morning's debacle. I woke up...late...again...SFD (shitfuckdamn, the swear word trifecta)...and made my way over to M&D's with sleep still in my eyes. I walked by the living room and heard, "Hey..." I moaned in recognition of the somewhat primal greeting from my father and waited to hear, "Is it too late for you to go get us some breakfast?" I told him no and got all FML (fuck my life, the quick and to the point pity party) in the bathroom. I considered being strong and only getting him his breakfast of sin and me a coffee, but alas...my resolve, commitment, and will power were all still sound asleep and I was on my own as I headed to the King of the Burger (who is also some how reigning over the breakfast sandwich). I ordered. I came home. I ate. I looked up the calories. Enter more FML...here.

BK Breakfast Muffin 400 cal

Sausage Biscuit 420 cal

Creamer in my coffee 70 cal

Total 890 cal

Holy Mother of God and all things right and beautiful in the world...that's some breakfast. The real ball buster is that I was going quite often to Mr. McDonald's and getting far more than that or going at lunch and getting down right obscene. Oy Vey and OMG (If you don't know that one by now, you might as well crawl back in your cave and dwell).

So, that's how my day is starting and it will be finishing with a lot of meal skippage. I am suppose to cook dinner again tonight and the recipe IS dieter friendly, but I will have to be some kind of wonderful to get to enjoy it.

As for the routine I outlined a couple days ago...If you bump everything about an hour or two down in the schedule, I'm doing just fine.

K9 Rituals

Every morning Lola wakes me up at whatever time she deems appropriate (usually based on how much movement she detects from me) and makes me take her out. If not for her I would likely sleep all day. On the average, she lets me sleep until 9:something (for which I love her for). After I take her out she puts around the house a moment making sure everything is as she left it the night before. You can almost hear her, "Bone? check. Snuggle blanket? Check. Bed in front of fire? Check." After assuring that everything is in order she heads back into my room and crawls under the covers to get some more sleep. I resist the urge to crawl back in with her no matter how tempting it may be and I start my day...however dreary it may be lately.

Sometime early afternoon she comes out and she seeks out the sun that may or may not be shining through my living room windows. It is Oregon, so those days are becoming rare, but if she finds it, she lays in it and follows it through the room all afternoon. She is committed to this part of her day and will often times contortion herself into awkward positions to achieve maximum sunning potential. Sun is on the wall behind the couch? Fear not, she will just lay on the back of the couch and rest her head on the wall (and, no, I am NOT kidding). If she doesn't find the sun, like today, she crawls under her snuggle blanket and commences with napping.

My dog has rituals. My dog gets up every day and, as long as I don't throw a wrench in her plans (which, let's be honest, wrenches are heavy and that would be like...exercise or something), she sets out to accomplish her goals. Granted, her goals aren't particularly lofty, but what she lacks in creativity...she makes up for with commitment. I need rituals. I need to have days where things happen in a certain order and there is structure. I need to have a schedule or I will inevitably do nothing.

So, here is my schedule for the first portion of my day...at least until I get a job.

8:00 am:

Pry my lifeless body from the clutches of my bed and take Lola outside.

8:15 am:

Participate in good hygiene with mundane things like teeth brushing and showering...shaving optional at this point. Get dressed in things that don't resemble sweats or pajamas (unless it's the weekend at which point, all bets are off). Blow drying hair and putting on makeup are optional until bathroom remodel is done (if ever done).

8:45 am:

Make a breakfast that makes me proud (and not in an "I can't believe I really just ate that" sort of way).

9:00 am:

Eat breakfast while using laptop for good; not evil. Look for a job, blog if the mood strikes, read blogs, check email(s), etc.

12:00 pm:

Make lunch in similar fashion as breakfast + more proud.

12:30 pm:

Clean up kitchen and various other household chores thus making me look productive(ish).

to be continued...

One Twelve By Oh Twelve

Two pounds. They say that you should not lose more than two pounds a week. It's not healthy they say. It's not...realistic (for most people). And yet, I have often asked my body to lose more than two pounds a week to reach some absurd goal set by my good intentions (or demons that had taken over my good senses...I'm not sure which). Some would argue that telling myself that I will lose X amount by X date in and of itself is sabotage. That I will just hate myself when it doesn't happen. And though "doesn't happen" is typically the norm for me, what if it DOES happen. What if I CAN do it? I did it once before. I told myself I would be under 300 pounds for my...26th birthday was it? It was a lofty goal requiring significant losses each week, but something had clicked in me then and I did it. I got on the scale that morning and for the first time in probably a decade, I saw a weight that didn't start with a three. That, combined with having done what I set out to do, had me floating on air for weeks. A loss in the family and a surgery had me right back up in the 300's where I have not only stayed, but seem to have moved in with all my things as if I would never leave.

So, whether wise or not, I'm setting another date specific goal. Only this time it's, dare I say, realistic. I'm asking my body to lose less than two pounds a week. I'm asking it to lose about 1.87 pounds a week. I have started the One Twelve by Oh Twelve challenge. I am going to lose 112 pounds by January 1st 2012. That is 60 weeks from now and, though it will require steady amounts of focus and commitment, it is completely doable.

But...I am asking you to help me. I'm asking any of you who still read to keep me going. To check in on me when you haven't heard from me to make sure I've not been swallowed by my couch. To perform an intervention if I am hold up in a shack somewhere mainlining Ben & Jerry's. To take the needle from me regardless of what wildly inappropriate things I offer for one more hit. To remind me of One Twelve by Oh Twelve. Better yet, I'm asking any of you with at least 112 pounds to lose to join me in the quest. Come on, you know you want to.

Succeeding at failure

I feel like crap. There, I said it. I've been nearly completely sedentary since school got out because, well, I'm depressed like no other. Yeah, I said that, too. I look for jobs and I play that game (which has even lost some of it's appeal for me lately). The rest of the time? I have no idea. All the days are running together for me. I'm not really watching much TV, not exercising, not socializing...that's for sure. I'm not doing meal preps, not planning my next great scheme, not honing my design talents. I clean every now and then. I take naps with Lola a LOT. I'm not really going anywhere...I can make $20 of gas last over a month usually. I've lost my spark...big time.

Have you ever been truly and utterly depressed? It's a viciously fucked up experience for sure. It's like you've been slipped one of those crazy drugs that paralyzes you, but you are completely aware of everything around you. You feel pain and emotions (although happy is an emotion that is scarcely apparent), but you are unable to move. You want to change, but you can't. You crave that happy person you were, but you can't find her. You could be on broadway with the acting skills you've acquired because you know that everyone in your world would implode if they knew how you were REALLY feeling. So, you pretend. Whenever you are around other people you pretend that everything is fine and nothing could get you down. You act as if you are completely in control. Well, you hate acting, but you are quite smitten with hiding...and so you do.

I haven't seen a single friend since I graduated. Until very recently, I hadn't even been to my sister's. My mom is convinced that, if not for the fact that my bathroom is still being remodeled and I need to use theirs, they would never see me even though I live next door. I've become a hermit. I've been depressed before, but it's only lasted a few weeks. This time, I can't quite seem to snap out of it. The only thing that I feel will do the trick is a job, but that has been nothing but crickets.

I feel like such a failure. Every day I eventually get out of bed and hate myself. That's a tough thing to face on a daily basis. I put on sweats and other stretchy garments and spend a couple hours convincing myself that hygiene is still important. I've abandoned water for diet pop, coffee, and tea. I won't eat until 2:00 and half the time it's fast food. I've gained back anything I lost and on the rare occasion that I do put on jeans, I am smacked with the reality that even my big jeans are tight. Enter more self-loathing...here.

I had a wow moment the other day, though. Something that has stuck with me for weeks and slowly pushed me into action the more I thought about it. Wait for it...

The only thing I've been consistently successful at is setting myself up for failure.

I know, right?! Since this is a weight loss blog (usually) we will address my failures as it pertains to that. Every time I recommit I set grand schemes full of good intention. I make unrealistic goals and jump in head first to a complete bog of failure. The logical person in me knows I cannot do it, but the blind optimist just says, "You go girl. You got this." And so I go...until I don't. I set out to run marathons, when I can't even walk a mile.

We are bypassing the "It's my Dad's fault" portion of my self-realization and fast forwarding to the "What do I intend to do about it" bit. I've decided that baby steps with a side of try harder is in order. Right now, every day that I move is a win. Every day that I eat breakfast is a win. More water, less pop? Win. No fast food? Win. These are the things I'm starting with. And what is my current weight loss goal? Tune in tomorrow and find out.

Three hundred fifty four (354)

When you see something like a legal document and it is addressing numbers it often spells the numbers out and follows it with its fraternal twin sister, Numeral, in parenthesis. This is done, I assume, to ensure there is no miscommunication of just what that number is. Can't read "nine"? Here, let me dummy it down for you...(9). Better? Good. Three hundred fifty four (354) is what I weigh today according to my parent's scale. The good news is, my massive pity party that was extended over the last couple months didn't cause me to gain any weight. In fact, I lost a whopping two (2) pounds since I last weighed in. The bad news, I've only lost a whopping two (2) pounds since I last weighed in (the middle of May was it?).

So, what have I been doing? Absolutely nothing. At first I was renovating and moving into the house connected to mom and dad. I now have my own place again. Now I sit on my computer nearly all day. I skip meals and then eat a bunch of ice cream. I avoid friends and family as often as possible because I'm feeling so anti-social and because I don't want to be seen. I'm disgusted with myself. My appearance, my unemployed state, everything. I look for jobs, for which there are none, and it depresses me more and more. For the first time in my life I don't have a purpose. When I first lost my job it was ok because I already knew I was going back to school. School became my purpose. Now that school is over I have no real reason to even get out of bed.

I have never been much of a "gamer", but found one I seem to be addicted to. What's odd is that this game is nothing but being social in a virtual sense. It's like SIMS meets Skype or Yahoo. It's called SecondLife. Actually, in that game I am represented by a hot, curvy, voluptuous beauty that everyone seems to like. I can look like anything I want and be anything I want. I've made her look a lot like the real me...except my size. Most of the girls in this game are stick thin. I chose not to be. I chose to have a "real" woman's body with proportionate curves. She is fierce. She is what I wish I was.

What's strange is that as I sit here all this time watching myself depicted on screen by "Lila" and seeing this gorgeous girl that somewhat resembles me it has started to motivate me more and more. Her hair is my hair, her eyes are my eyes, her sassy ass attitude? All me. Her boobs are way too perky and she never has to wear a bra, but that is ME...as I wish I were. It's a mostly realistic version of the body I want.

So far Lila has gotten me to start playing Wii again and doing my fitness games and today I set my Bodybugg back up (haven't worn it since a few weeks after graduation). She's got me skipping less and less meals and making decent decisions, but she'll never get me to stop eating ice cream. I'm setting goals today and trying to snap out of this funk. I have no money. I have no job. I stay in my house...alone. Something's gotta give. So, what do I usually do when I feel I have no control over my life? I find something I can control and obsess over it. That thing is making myself be as fierce as this doppelganger named Lila. Hey...don't judge. You hang your motivational photos on your fridge and I'll hang Lila on mine.

Crickets. Crickets.

Yes, I am alive. I will be posting soon...I think. Trying to sort things out. Stay tuned for all the juicy details.

I R A College Graduate

and I expected to be more excited than this. I predicted the overwhelming realization that my life is chalk full of unknowns to set it, but it's not even that. It's not the fact that I don't have a job lined up or freelance projects coming in. It's not that school is done and I will hardly see the people that have become such great friends over the last two years. Mostly? I'm just flat out disappointed.

I've established that I'm not going through the graduation ceremony. It's just not my thing. For a designer, the only thing that matters is my portfolio. The fact that I was on the President's List every single term of my college career and had highest honors doesn't matter. The diploma and the degree don't even matter. In my line of work it comes down to one thing and one thing only. My book. How good am I (my sparkling personality just makes me a shoe in)? So, graduation ceremonies and such pomp and circumstance are inconsequential to me.

Today's portfolio open house was the complete opposite of that; this WAS my graduation ceremony. Today's open house was for industry people and teachers to see what we've accomplished and how we've grown, but mostly it was for everyone's family and friends to come see not only our work, but the work of the people that have helped us get through two monumentally tough years. In military speak, I have been hunkered down in the trenches with these people and they pulled me through. They pushed me to be better and do better always. They inspired me to create awesome every day. At the very least, my family could have seen if I actually DO have talent in comparison to the 30 other students in the room. Regardless of any of that, it was a day to show up, be a participant in my life, and support me. It was a day to pretend to give a shit, even if you don't.

I gave two MONTH'S notice so that people could maybe take a longer lunch or get a couple hours off and just do a quick walk through and meet a few friends and instructors that are important to me. I have given reminders and inquired as to whether or not they were going...I even did a shout out on Facebook. So how many people showed up to support me today? Zero. Nada. Zilch. Goose Egg. Not even my retired father could be bothered to pry the remote from his sweaty palm and show up. So, I met everyone else's family, friends, and significant others and fielded the questions about my absent family. Twas awesome indeed, but that's not even the most disappointing part. That honor is reserved for that simple fact that I KNEW no one would show.

It's at this point that I would like to tell you how it went and things that were said about my book and my work by everyone ELSE'S family, but alas...I feel myself slipping into a design induced coma. Later, perhaps.

Don't Worry...I'm Alive!

Just checking in. Letting you know I've not succumb to anything too serious. One note of worth...I am not going to be taking summer classes and graduation will REALLY mean I'm done. It is both exciting and scary. Exciting because no more frickin' homework! Scary because that means no student loan checks to help me get by and will really and truly need a job ASAP (or lots of freelance work to do at the office space). GAH!!! Freakin' out. I have to get through TEN MORE DAYS!

I have no idea what I weigh right now. I do suck, I know. TEN MORE DAYS!

Barely there post by yours truly

What's the tally, ho?

Weight = 356.2

Down 4.6

Total 13.8

We're back on track. Slightly behind a short term goal I set, but we'll make up for it.

Over and out!

Truancy

noun:

a student who stays away from school without leave or explanation.

It's true. I've been playing hookey. Not from my "legit" classes, although I haven't been particularly enthused about them, I've not missed even one and am doing fairly well. It's the gym. When this term started I decided to try and treat the gym and weight loss and watching what I'm eating like a class because I put everything into my education. I thought I could put that same tunnel visioned focus towards the gym and kick some serious ass.

And that's what I did, at first. Now? Now I am experiencing some difficulty. I signed up to cook Monday through Thursday so that I could have more control over what we were eating. I got so tired of my dad turning up his nose at the simplest meals (even if he inevitably liked them) or hearing about how he's had to eat chicken twice a week that I've gone on strike. I haven't cooked in a couple weeks which has been affecting how calorie counting has been going.

Last week I only went to the gym on Tuesday and this week? Haven't been yet. Part of it is trying to go to my studio space a few times a week and this week it's because the last two days I've been hanging out with a boy. Lame. I've got this tool (the Bodybugg) to help me keep it all in check and I'm not even making the most of it the last couple weeks. I've been lucky to meet my burn a couple times a week let alone every day. It ends...here.

On the days that I go to my office I need to make sure I get up earlier so that I can leave early enough to still come home and cook dinner. I need to make sure I have the meals planned by Friday so that my mom can get the groceries over the weekend and I'm good to go for the week. I need to adjust which days I go to the gym so it doesn't affect that and start using the Wii more to offset not being able to get to the gym quite as often. I can juggle all of this. I have to...people do it all the time and I am not going to use living life as an excuse to fall back into my old patterns.

The sun is shining and I have a ton of homework to get done today, but I will put the top down, drive to the gym, and get in a weigh in and a workout. You'll be hearing from me again soon.

Commercial break

alternate title: shameless plug for a blog that isn't mine so that I can enter a contest and garner forgiveness for not rigging my giveaway so that she would win.

Check this chick out and follow her...now!

Protein overdose

Mom got a new blender yesterday. Her old one has been a piece of carp since the day we got it. Smoothie making has been a rarity. Well, rarity no more. I went to the grocery store and stocked up on a few things. No real recipe in mind. It had been so long since I made one I wasn't entirely sure what was in them anymore. I've never been particularly afraid of winging it, though.

I went to the yogurt section and decided I'd go for a greek yogurt knowing they are so high in protein. I've only tried Fage before, but saw a big carton of Chobani. It's fat free and has 23 grams of protein. I procured a 100% Whey Protein powder as well figuring if a lot of protein is good for you then a shit load must be AMAZING (I will let you know if my body tells me otherwise)!

I grabbed a few bags of different frozen fruit goodness and came home to concoct what may very well be the best smoothie I've had in a while (in my opinion obviously) It's 443 calories, 54 grams of protein, and 3.5 grams of fat. My belly is happily full and with all that protein I should feel that way for a while, no? Sadly, in my eagerness, I drank it before snapping a photo. It was a light purple beauty with flecks of green. Not too thick, not too runny. Mmm Mmm Good. Try it for yourself.

Mixed Berry Protein Smoothie

1 cup Chobani Non-fat Plain Greek Yogurt

1 cup Silk Light Vanilla Soy Milk

1 cup Whole Frozen Unsweetened Mixed Berries (Blackberries, Strawberries, Raspberries & Blueberries)

1 cup Baby Spinach

1 scoop Vanilla EAS 100% Whey Protein Powder

Note: Still drinking these, but making 1/2 a batch at a time. The full batch was just a wee bit too much and there usually isn't anyone else here to drink the rest.

Pomp and Circumstance

What's the tally, ho?

Up 2.7

Total 9.2

Boooooooo

In other news...I got an email from my school that informed me that I would, in fact, be graduating with honors. That I would be allowed to wear the chords around my neck signifying my super smart status at the commencement ceremony. One must have a GPA of 3.75 or higher to attain such fashionable duds. One problem...I'm not partaking in the graduation ceremonies (much to my mother's dismay).

When you grow up my size you don't look forward to landmark events the way normal girls do. I had no desire to go to prom, the homecoming dance was more agony than fun, I never spent hours upon hours dreaming of a future wedding and I sure as hell never wanted to dawn a giant robe in front of thousands and parade across a stage. I did it in high school for my parents. I don't think they knew how much I didn't want to do it and how hard it was for me. As much as it seems to mean to my mom that I do it, at almost 34 years old, I've decided once is enough...honor chords or not.

It's not a matter of letting my weight hold me back from doing something I really want to. I'd much rather just have a party and move forward. There is no part of me that wants to do this...skinny or not. Sorry, mom, but it's just not going to happen.

I worked on moving into my studio over the weekend and worked there for a few hours yesterday before I had to do other things. It will be awkward at first I'm sure. I didn't head there until around 11 and everyone was working away. I didn't want to interrupt anyone to introduce myself and was only there for about three hours so the only two people I met were the girls in my immediate area. They will be moving out in a couple weeks. I didn't go today, but tomorrow I will make a point to meet someone new.

As for the weight gain. I know, lame. I really need to keep my sodium intake in check and there's a couple things seriously lacking from my diet...fruits and veggies. Must overhaul.

Drumroll, please...and don't forget the hi-hat.

Ladies and gentleman, we have ourselves a winner!

Congratulations, TJ. Send me your address and let me know which color you would like (cyan, magenta, yellow, or black). Thanks for playing and stay tuned for my next giveaway.