Chubrub

I hate running.  No seriously, I do.  I hate running and always have.  But I've finally hit my limit of being round and would like to be less round.  The fastest way to that is by not eating brownies every day (not going to happen) or at least only eat a few a week and start exercising. 

So what did I do?  I started the couch to 5K program.  I hate it already.  But I hate being fat just a little bit more.  I haven't always been fat.  Only in the last few years (5ish) have a I really been working on packing on the L-Bs.  At least I have skinny pics of myself to look at and day dream about the days of single digit pants.  I have a physical goal I can look at and obtain.

Back to running.

Running seems to be the "in" thing.  Everyone's running.  I hate it.  But I also like to be a part of fads.  That's why I own an Iphone. 

I got my ass out of bed this morning for another day of training on the C25K thingy.  And by this morning, I mean early.  How early?  Not even the dog, who loves to run (bitch), would get up to go out with me. 

As part of my "I quit" plan, a part of wanting to run was to feel comfortable in my running clothes.  So I got some cute new, color-coordinating shorts and a shirt.  I tested the shorts out as much as you can in a dress room without falling face first into a wall or mirror.  But I thought, "cool, these will work."  Wrong.  Turns out that my fat thighs are now so fat that when I run in shorts I get chubrub.  What's chubrub?  If you don't know, you're skinny.  If you do know, then you know how much it sucks. 

I got back from my jog/walk this morning and went to go look up the crap real runners use to make sure they prevent chaffing.  Having just done some god awful running, my mind was foggy.  Instead of searching whatever it's called that runners use, I instead searched for "Astroglide." 

Uh, yeah.  So at 6 a.m. this morning my google was going nuts with lubricants best suited for another form of physical fitness.  To add to my demise, Elly woke up bright and early (but not early enough for a jog with me... SEE!  No one wants to run!) and was extra clingy.  I thought for sure she was going to have to join me in the shower if I was ever going to get ready for work.

But on the plus side, I finished another day of C25k.  And I'm signed up for my very first 5K!  I've invested the money (which I vow to stop wasting) and Abby is signed up as well (this is her fault).  It's September 8.  So stay on my ass (there's plenty of room) and make sure I don't waste my money.

But really.... I hate running.  I'm a moron.  Kill me now.

Check me out on Yeah Write.

I quit

That's it! I quit! I am finally done being a rolly-Polly slug. Yes, I've said it before. Yes, I've tried to "get back into shape" before.

Most of those efforts failed. Why? Because I let them. It's pretty plain and simple. I copped out every time.

Why did I cop out? It's crazy, because in general I'm a pretty good self-starter. When I'm tasked with something, I go above and beyond and deliver on or ahead of deadline.

Again, so why can't I meet my own goals? Well for one, I had flimsy, unrealistic goals. Two, I had little to no accountability. And three, I didn't have a plan.

The last point is like salt in my self-loathing wounds. I'm a damn good planner. I have a plan and five back-up plans for EVERYTHING. Why don't I have a plan for myself? Because I cop out. Duh.

So this time I actually developed a plan. I actually spent a month and a half making said plan. Don't worry, I'm not using Abby's paper napkin filing system!

Now I've never smoked. Not once. Not one single cigarette has ever even touched my lips. But I do know people who smoke/ have smoked. And it sounds as though quoting being fat it's much like quoting smoking or other bad habits.

Step one, make a plan. Check.

Step two, decide on a start date. Check.

Step three, list all your usual crutches and excuses for not quitting and determine your attainable work around. Check.

Ok. So now that I've got that all in place it's time to get a move on it. Keep on me so I don't cop out again!


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All-mom pickers

Saturday, I had a mega sale of all of Elly’s old clothes and baby junk.  I started working on sorting all of her stuff about 2 months ago.  (Did I mention I'm a hoarder?)  Needless to say, there was a ton of crap and really had to be sorted out to the various categories of sizes, gear and sleepwear.

Finally, I picked a day and was committed to selling the stuff and making back some of my money.  The only problem is that I happened to pick the hottest f’ing day of the year in Washington D.C. to have a yard sale. 

It was so hot…

How hot was it?

It was so hot a plane sank into the tarmac at Reagan National Airport.  Now if that isn’t freakin’ hot, I don’t know what is!

I had been advertising this sale for three days leading up to the sale.  By Friday when I realized the weatherman was going to be right and I would actually sweat my balls off spending the afternoon outside in the sun, I made the executive decision to move the sale inside.

BRILLIANT!

I had such a great response.  Tons of people.  And by tons of people, I actually grew a bit concerned at one point that I may have exceeded the maximum capacity for fire safety exits in my house! 

But the payoff was great!

Tons of pregnant women made it out searching for great deals and cool A/C.  But with these women came the hagglers.  Now, I understand that haggling in other cultures is very common and actually the norm.  For me, I’m not that used to it.

Thank God my hours invested into reality television paid off again.

Friday night I stayed up late folding clothes, watching the History Channel’s American Pickers.  I established a great cost system that the more you bought the better a deal you got.  Thanks to Frank, that’s the power of bundling. 

I found myself negotiating like Mike:

B: “That’ll be $14.”

Random woman: “$10.”

B: “I’m at $14, you’re at $10, let’s split the difference and it’s $12.”

Random guy: “How much is that?”

B: “$25”

Random guy: “$5?”

B” “Uh, NO! I could do $20.”

Random guy walks away.  Jerk!  Who tries to offer $5 for an exersaucer in great condition?  This is All-mom pickers not Let’s Make a Deal. 

Overall it was a great turn out and yielded great results.  Too bad within 24 hours I turned around and became a mom picker myself and went shopping for Elly’s fall/winter fashion line.  It’s funny how I can make so much money one day and be back to nothing the next all because of my kid. 

Penance

Let me start by saying what every mother says before she launches into a laundry list of things her kid does to make her crazy, I love my daughter more than anything in the world. I truly would do anything for her, even tell her "No."

Elly is 16 months going on 16 years. I know I say this a lot, but she really does have a lot of attitude. I'm not just saying it.

She constantly throws a tantrum when she's told No. Her last pout has been over the fact she's not allowed to use the oven door handle as a monkey bar.

Another reoccurring theme in her life is just how independent she is.

Her latest cry for independence is in the pool. What she fails to realize is when she's floating in the pool, kicking as if she's swimming and then flailing to get out of my arms is the fact that my arms are what prevent her from sinking like a rock.

I'm not trying to hold you back, Elly. I'm trying to keep you alive.

Her attitude is what I imagine from a teenager. And that revelation is pretty scary. Mainly because I have a lot of years to endure before we get to the teen years.

As a kid, I wasn't too terrible. Sure, I got in trouble plenty for doing dumb stuff. But I don't think I was too unruly. Granted, once I left for college, that's a whole different story. Don't worry, I stayed just on this side of the law.

But I feel like Elly's attitude and independence is my punishment for what I put my own mother through. I'm not sure if it's proportionate to what I did growing up, but I've decided it's time to start doing some penance to prevent Armageddon in about 14 years.

I'll start with an apology to whoever I drove crazy with my incessant talking.

Next, I'd like to apologize to anyone who I didn't listen to. Specifically those with wisdom beyond my years.

Finally, I'd like to apologize to my mom for driving her crazy. Although, she should feel pretty excited she now gets to say, "I told ya so."

Maybe if I confess enough and do enough penance now, I'll be able to earn a few brownie points with the big man on the back end. Yes, I know that's not how it works, but isn't bargaining one of the steps to recovery?


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