FAW

I took my second Ashtanga Easy class today. Two mats down from me sat a young, lithe, attractive woman. I noticed her because she seemed so cool and collected, and managed to make twin braids look uber-sexy. I'd never seen her before. But now I know that her name is Formidable Ashtanga Woman.

The instructor asked, "Is anybody taking this class for the first time?" A few of us raised our hands, including FAW. I said that this was my second class. FAW said, "I've been gone for a long time, and am just getting back to Ashtanga. I've been doing a lot of traveling with my child." The instructor and she exchanged, "oh, it's so hard to get back" comments. We all nodded in sympathy.

Then the class began. And I am not kidding when I say that FAW was poetry in motion. "Getting back" my eye. She didn't need this class, with the sweaty, grunting, huffing plebians surrounding her. She needed to be on stage, with one solo spotlight, where we could all marvel at her grace, strength and poses while we all murmured below in wonder and delight.

I'd hate to see what her idea of "back" in Yoga would be. I imagine it to be something like this:

- she swoops in, flying like a crane
- rolls over and folds herself economically into a little box
- pops out gracefully, looking happy and refreshed

Can't wait to see it. I'll be right behind her, huffing and puffing until I, too, can be called a FAW.

The Acquisition

Today I went to a client meeting. I got there a bit early, and my client said, "Let's go into the kitchen and get something to drink." I walk in and freeze in my tracks. This company develops software, and the kitchen shelves were lined with boxes of candy and snacks from Sam's. All open, available, and free.

"Have something," she said, waving carelessly at the shelves.

I spied an open box of Kit Kats. Then remembered the 30 minute jog I suffered through in the am.

"No, thanks," I demurred. "I'm not hungry."

We went to the meeting to take about mergers and company direction. And what was on my mind? The Kit Kat.

Specifically, what I would do with the Kit Kat. How I would open the package. Break each bar apart. Nibble all the chocolate edges off and then crunch into the bar, biting through each layer to make the bar last longer.

I was fantasizing about food. In a client meeting!

After the meeting was over, I got up to leave and said, "Thank you very much. I'll be in touch soon."

Then snuck back into the kitchen and got a Kit Kat.

I ate it on the couch when I got home, and enjoyed every minute of it!

Don't get too cocky

I just had an overwhelming urge for a Kit Kat. I would KILL for a Kit Kat right now!! Evil, stupid chocolate...

Guarantee a flat stomach

Go to Yoga first thing in the am, without eating anything, and your stomach will remain flat even after you eat a sensible breakfast! Amazing.

Topaz, the Yoga teacher, wants to kill, though. Her weapons may be kindness, sun salutations, twists and deep bends, but it's killing me just the same. I always just want to lie in a quivering child's pose until I catch up. Who knew slow movement could be so lethal?

Strange shuffle friends

Here was my 25 minute jog list:

"I Really Love You Girl," by Bobby Brown
"The Way You Look Tonight," Billie Holiday
"To Live and Die in LA," Wang Chung
"I'll" Go," Donnel Jones
"Somebody Have Mercy," Sam Cook
"Copacabana," Barry Manilow

I thought the Sam Cook song would make me laugh, as it's a walk song and the title was appropriate. When I got to the end of the song I thought, "I wonder what's next. It better be good or I'm just going to walk home." Then Copa started. How can one resist moving with that syncopated beat?

I've turned into that person

I went jogging again this afternoon, which wouldn't be that big of a deal except for it's something like 90 degrees and 8,000% humidity. I felt like I was treading in a pool of sweat. Although my feet were moving, I would call what I was doing less of a jog, but something more like a shuffle.

But I was out there!

It occurred to me while I was slogging away that I've become that person. You know, the hot, sweaty person you look at from your air-conditioned car and think, "Fool. What are you doing jogging at 4:00 in the afternoon in the south? Are you crazy?!"

Yay! The 8 Minute Run

Wow, I did it! Not even nearly winded when I was done. Could it be that this exercise thing really does make one more fit?

The Payoff

It's been two weeks of diet, jogging, and yoga, and I'm beginning to be able to fit back into some clothes. Thank goodness! I shimmied into the magic dress, and *almost* made the cut. Maybe in two more weeks.

After a crazy summer of fits and starts, I've earned my way to $154 on the iPod diet, and today I was able to buy the Shuffle. I loaded it up this evening and took it for a test run. Very impressive. I am now running in 5 minute stretches--quite a feat, given in the beginning I could barely do 1.5 minute intervals. Tuesday I will gear up to do 8 minutes. Wish me luck...

A new low

So today I bought fat pants.

My first ever.

I feel like giving up, and just eating and buying the new wardrobe. Harumph.

Crash and Burn

I broke my elbow at the skating rink. Some punk kid with a death wish careened into me at 70 mph and sent me to the floor. It was not pretty. So for the last three weeks, I have been sleeping, eating and trying to do palm up palm down with my right arm without breaking into a string of curses.

The elbow. Who knew what a valuable joint it is?

My advice: don't go rollerskating if you're over the age of...16. But if you do, wear the appropriate gear.

Things were going perfectly, too...jogging every other day. Yoga. Sticking to the eating plan. Now all I feel a slight pinch when I put on my tanks and I wear my shorts. Hateful.

welcome back

So I went ahead and bit the bullet and bought ecto. Maybe that will help me blog more faithfully. Maybe not.

Summer has hit with a vengeance, and many of my cute summer dresses are tight around the edges, so I'm back on six week body makeover diet. It's been fairly manageable the five days that I've been on it so far. I've also added a mod: I can eat whatever I want one day a week. I really only want to lose 10 lbs., so hopefully that will help.

I've been doing yoga and jogging faithfully every other day, with one day a week as a rest. I've been paying myself $10 for every day that I jog. I'm up to $70! Halfway to the 1 gig ipod. Next month I'm setting my sites on buying a Playstation...

Yoga Yoga

I've started taking Yoga classes. I spend most of my days hunched over the computer, for extended amounts of time, and am starting to suffer on my right hand: grasping too tightly on the mouse, hunching my shoulders, etc. It was starting to take a toll, and I started going to a physical therapist.

The therapist was good, if only for the advice she gave me. "As you get older, " she said, "you have to decide where you want to spend your money: on wellness or illness." I figured she had a point. I could pay her $25 bucks a session to fix what was broken, or spend $10 per yoga class to prevent my body from breaking. So I signed up for yoga.

Why yoga? Well, there are a few good reasons. One, it's pretty peaceful. Two, even though you raise your heartbeat and work hard, it's not too sweaty. And three, the best reason ever, is that you get to take a nap at the end. It rules!

After going for about a couple of weeks, I have noticed a strange thing. Almost all the women who take yoga are beautiful and thin. Is it the yoga gear? The yoga glow? Who knows. I was watching all the people who were streaming in before class today and said aloud to my neighbor, "Does yoga make people thin, or do thin people take yoga?" She thought that was pretty funny, but couldn't give me a good answer.

I've also started running. I found this cool plan online, and decided to give it a try. This, coupled with my new enthusiasm for music, makes the iPod shuffle very very tempting...

Music for my ears

I've been through an odd bit over the last month. Long story, but after 10 years of being immune to music and movies, I've started liking them again. I reactivated my Netflix account, and have started listening to music again. I've discovered that my city library has quite a nice inventory of CDs. It helps to borrow music, as it cut down on impulse buys on iTunes and Amazon.

There is however, one album I'm going to buy, and that's the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds. I've never been a big Beach Boy's fan, but after listening to this album over the weekend, I've decided it's a keeper. The textures, moods and layers of work that Brian Wilson explores in this album is solid, and I think that God Only Knows is absolutely stunning. I really liked how Richard Curtis used it in his film Love Actually.

Listening to Brian Wilson's work reminded me that when I was younger, I bought Wilson Phillip's first cd. As most people know, the name Wilson in the group's title comes from Brian himself, as two of his daughter are in the group. Listening to it now, 15 years (good Lord! has it been that long?!), I see that this album does not have much staying power with me.

Except for one song, and it's not because of the quality of the music, it's because of the lyrics, as well as the memory of who I was when I first heard it. The song is called "You're in Love", and it's about the realization that one's love is with someone else. The song mirrored what I was going through at the time, and I used to listen to it, nodding sagely and sadly, agreeing with the words. Here's the chorus:

You're in Love
That's the way it should be
"cause I want you to be happy
you're in Love
and I know that you're not in love with me
it's enough for me to know that you're in love
I can let you go
cause I know that you're in love...

Ten minutes ago, when I heard that, I just started cracking up because it's so.not.true. I know that the whole idea that ex-loves should be friends is a myth, perpetuated by fairy tales, Hollywood and romantic comedies that only women believe.

So here's my snarky commentary on this song, today:

You're in Love
That's the way it should be
I can't believe you found someone else to put up with your bullshit
"cause I want you to be happy
I hope this new relationship of yours rots in your soul and sinks you down to the depths of love hell
you're in Love
and I know that you're not in love with me
You're an idiot. I was the best thing that could have happened to you and you blew it.
it's enough for me to know that you're in love
Man, I can't even believe anybody would be stupid enough to fall for you
I can let you go
Don't ever see me again. Ever.
cause I know that you're in love...

Fifteen years later, and I now know that Harry was right. Men and women can't be friends. The truth is music to my ears.

Second Time Around

Nipped down to Houston for the weekend for my friend's baby shower. In attendance were my life-long girlfriends. We're so close, it's like visiting family.

I brought the magic dress, as it was unseasonably warm and thought it might be a good thing to wear. The magic dress, shockingly, has lost it's magic powers. My arms looked pop-eye-esque, and there was a somewhat suspicious pulling around the waist. I think I have to get back in the saddle and start fussing with diet and exercise again.

Thankfully, thankfully, this is my month of self-renewal (can you tell that I've read one too many women's magazines in my lifetime?) It's the montage month moment of my life. I will, I must. I am going to walk around the block at least once tomorrow!

What I should have been doing

Blogging has been non-existent for the last few months, as I have been deluged with work, and when not working, wanting to be as far away from the computer as possible. Also, I have been getting sick every other week, and just now am getting over a wicked, wicked cold. But I've been doing a lot of "mind-blogging" while I've been away, in which I've been composing deep, wonderful posts while sweating out the fever, or while staring at the computer screen doing my real job.

Here are some of the topics:

1.) Bellisario Boys: Where are the heroes of today? In which I analyze, compare and contrast Donald P. Bellisario's tv male leads in Battlestar Galactica, Magnum P.I. and Quantum Leap (I have not watched JAG). I also bitterly complain about his inability to write strong female characters. And I marvel at how good Thomas Magnum looked in the early episodes of Magnum PI.

2.) The Coughing Diet: in where I tell of how I've lost weight due my body's newfound ability to cough every other three seconds, thereby eliminating any desire or time to stuff food in my mouth. I leave out the part where I have just sent out a companion to get potato chips and cookies for me, because I am finally feeling better.

3.) Far East, Man: In where I contemplate and introduce my new plan of physical fitness, starting out with my adventures in acupuncture (which I don't believe in but it works, somehow) and my signing up of Tai Chi.

Wow, I thought I had done more mind blogging than that! Maybe I have but I just access the files right now. The cold fatigue is coming back. Must go tank up on water. I hope to be back soon.

Falling Off

I have fallen so far off the wagon that it's not even funny. It's been a week and a half of "hmmm...that sounds good" and "but I'll just eat this candy because Halloween is around the corner." Not good, people, not good. I am beyond puffy and into Michelin Man territory.

The thing is now I notice that sugar makes me crabby and grouchy, and I can tell the difference. But it's the only vice that I have. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I never rebelled as an adolescent. But the white sugar. The pure, cane, white sugar. That is my vice...

Enough. Tomorrow I will try to get up early, run around the block, and stick it to white cane sugar power with oatmeal and fruit smoothie. Will keep you posted.

Passion

Just got back from watching Wimbledon. Here's a short review: it's really less of a romantic comedy and more about finding the thing inside of you that makes things happen. Couple downsides, mostly on Kirsten Dunst. She's post-fruit, which means her youthful dewy edge is fallinga way and she's looking fairly normal and, dare I say, in some scenes just plain bad. I got the overall sense that she was badly lit. The other downside was that her character served as inspiration for the male character. Gaaaaah. I hate that.

Paul Bettany did a fairly good job of being a likeable Brit, but I didn't feel anything more for him other than a passing interest. For a movie about passion, drive and winning, it was surprisingly dry.

I thought it really funny that the only way a Brit would win Wimbledon in this day and age is for them to make a movie about it.

Anyway, this leads me to share the top things I dislike in movies:

1. Any movie that celebrates the human spirit. You know which ones they are. The voiceover in the trailer intones "...in celebration of the human spirit." Or there's a moment in the movie when a key thing happens and everyone in the room, stadium, country stands and claps. I can't stand those movies. It cuts out about 99% of what I can see.

2. Any movie that uses sex as a metaphor: for war (Unbearable Lightness of Being), art, or anything else. Forget it. Sex should be about one thing only: lust. Or maybe love. But it's a better movie if it's about lust. ;)

3. A romantic comedy should pass two tests for me: I should want to be the girl, and I should want to date the guy.

Sadly, I did not wan to to do either in regard to the characters in Wimbledon.

Stats Quo

I've lived w/the diet and cheated enough that I'm fitting in my clothes, but not making much progress beyond that. If you were to see me, you'd probably say, "Why are YOU on a diet?" It's true that my dress size has not gone above double digits, but that doesn't mean it won't end up that way. I've been a thin person all my life, even though I have done nothing to earn it. As a child I ate very little. As a teen to twentysomething, I ate whatever I wanted, and pretty much maintained my slim profile. But it had nothing to do with what I did, which was nothing. It had to do with how my body processed food. I was blessed with a fast metabolism, and I took it for granted.

I say this because if I had a slow metabolism and ate the way I just described, I'd be as big as a house. And then people would say I had an eating disorder. It's really not fair.

I was at a party last night, wearing the magical dress, and offhandedly mentioned that I was working on a diet (because I was cheating like crazy) and the gentleman before me gave me a quizzical look. I said, "because my clothes weren't fitting me." He said, "I find that very hard to believe." I said, "So did I! Trust me." But it is true.

And the truth is what I hate more than anything is shopping. I like the clothes that I already have. Please don't make me go back into the mall. (Except to go and buy more magical dresses...but wouldn't it be better if they just showed up on your doorstep, with, perhaps, a cute UPS man delivering?)

So the next logical step is to start moving, as in exercise. That takes a big effort for me, as it involves actually moving around of my cozy home. Eliminating food is easy: I can do it in my kitchen. Exercise means I have to move. And I'm not gonna get suckered into buying an at-home machine. Been there, done that. Anyone wanna buy a nearly new, pristine weight bench and free weights?

The heart monitor came in the mail, and I've been so "busy" that I haven't had a chance to play with it yet. But I will. Maybe when it's swarming with ants, I'll feel sorry for it and use it...

Off target

I thought I would throw in one meatless meal in the mix, since I got tired of searching for one more entree. Big mistake. i was starving again two hours later, and had to have some protein to fill me back up. It's amazing what a difference it makes. Used to be that I could just eat something like a slice of bread, and get full. Now, it just make me more ravenous for something real.

Cheating a lot today: three slices of banana bread, two sugar cookies, and a kit kat. Could be something to do with the end of the dial pack...

Hungry Like the Wolf

I no longer have cable, or even listen to top 40 radio, but I saw on yahoo's home page today that the original members of Duran Duran have an album coming out. I went over and caught their new video, which is passable. Nowhere near the brilliance of their early Russell Mulcahy vehicles, but it's nice to see Simon, Nick and the three Taylor non-brothers back together again.

Let me tell you something about Duran Duran. I wouldn't be where I am today, if it weren't for them. (As if working out of a home office to demanding, undeserving clients is so great. I kid, I kid. I love my clients. Just not their taste, sometimes).

Here's the backstory. It's 1983 in a small, conservative Christian central Texas town. I'm thirteen years old, surrounded by the ordinary. If you were there in the early 80's, you'll remember. There was no satellite television, no cell phones, no internet, no infotainment, no celebrity culture. The closest thing you got to discussions of celebrities were Siskel and Ebert, in their original form, on their show At the Movies on PBS. PBS!

But everyday, accessible technology was making its presence known. Because my dad was (and still is) somewhat of a technophile, we were early adapters. We owned a microwave, and had one of the first VCR's in our town. He paid at least a 1,000.00 for a huge, silver JVC. He would go help neighbors set up their systems, as they would slowly acquire this new, strange technology. We even joined a video store in the next town over. It was something like $30 to join, and then movies were $5 to rent.

My sister and I were latch-key kids. We'd come home at 3:00, and my Mom would get home around 5:30 from work. My dad worked the 3-11 evening shift at the hospital. So for over two glorious hours, we were unsupervised. Of course my sister, being older and more responsible, would do her homework. I would watch a lot of tv. We didn't have cable just then, but we had a few good local stations. The ABC affiliate would play classic movies from 3:00-4:30 in the afternoon, which were always great. (This was even before talk shows dominated daytime!). But one day I clicked over to a local independent station, and saw Richard Blade hosting what looked like a very awkward, 80's version of American Bandstand. Kids would dance, Richard would kvetch about this "new wave" of music, and between song sets, he would play music videos.

I didn't think much of this show, until one day, while channel surfing, I caught Duran Duran's Rio video. Now most would argue that Hungry Like the Wolf was the best video, but Rio was always my favorite. I was fascinated. Who were these guys? What were they doing on this island? Why did it look like a movie? What was this plot going on? How could they be looking so impossibly sexy, sunkissed and carefree? Even then, I knew that I was seeing something entirely new: a new artistic expression. The song on a radio, paired with this kind of imagery, brought in a whole new dimension, allowing for the artist to drive their own visual and concept of the song. Or maybe John Taylor just looked hot crawling up the beach. Six one way, half a dozen the other.

Thus began the downward spiral. I talked my dad into getting cable (it was pretty easy). And then overdosed on videos: MTV, WGN's Nighttracks, even USA today's Radio 1990. I'd watch it all. And I would read anything I could on Duran Duran. I'd hang out at the local B. Dalton's and read teenybopper magazines like Tiger Beat, along with serious magazines like Rolling Stone and Circus.

Suddenly, my ordinary was supplanted by a visual feast. Duran Duran videos offered serious cinematography, exotic locales, and attractive leading men that dressed well. Their Rio album cover was stylistically designed. Magazine articles on Nick Rhodes described him as having gone to art school, liking Andy Warhol, and quoting him using words like "aesthetics." Back then, those things were alien concepts to a 13-year old in Texas. I would learn to dream about places like New York, London, Sri Lanka and Antigua. I would write Duran Duran fanfic with my friend Julie, thus fueling my desire to write. Even though I was shy, I worked up the nerve to interview a touring Christian band for our high school newspaper. (The editor liked the piece, but the faculty member thought it "too trendy." I was trying to emulate the quick, arcebic tone of Star Hits, my favorite pop music 80's magazine.) I began to notice the difference in designer v. non-designer clothes. And how a fedora could add polish to any outfit. There was something different about Duran Duran. Something polished, sleek and crafted that just made me take notice.

to be cont.