Monday, September 17, 2012

The Fat Fitness Instructor: After Week 2

It’s the end of week 2 of my return to health, and I’m dropping weight, feeling energized, and am making the little adjustments needed to make clean eating work for me.  I still hate eggs.  The smell, taste, texture, ugh.  So I’ve modified lunchtime to not only get out of my egg rut, but to also avoid feeling overly full and like crashing after lunch.  Now, I make lunch an extended experience where I start with a piece of fruit (usually an apple) at 12:00ish.  Between 1:00 and 2:00, I’ll have light string cheese for some protein.  Between 3:00 and 4:00, also known as The Crunching Hour, it’s a bowl of dry Cheerios.  Finally, between 4:00 and dinner, I’ll have 1 ounce of raw almonds.  This way, I’m satisfied all afternoon but never over-full, and I’m getting in fruit, whole grain, and two sources of protein – dairy and nuts.

I’m an all or nothing kind of girl, so cheating isn’t really an issue for me when I’m eating healthy all the time; however, I wanted a little taste of something sweet Tuesday night – but not filling or too cheaty.  It was then that Eric tried to kill me with sugar free “candy” that’s main ingredient is sugar alcohol.  For the uninitiated, sugar alcohol is a terrible, horrible ingredient created solely to make people gassy and unfit for social contact.  He was just being nice, but he’s learned a valuable lesson.  In most cases, it’s not worth it to me to have some fake “diet” food version of a treat. When everyone talks about diet food not tasting good, they’re talking about this fake kind.  There’s no way someone could hate all fruits, vegetables, grains, nuts, and lean proteins.  Actually, productive diet food is real food that comes from nature and not a lab.  I preach this all the time, but this is the first time that I’m actually following my own professional advice and not falling into the fake food trap.

In addition to spreading out lunch and eating real food, I’ve started drinking more tea.  It’s warm, comforting, and satisfying in the way that often food can be.  Sometime eating is about comfort, so tea does the same thing for zero calories.  I’ve always been a tea person, but now I’m going through it like a champ.


I know it’s clichéd to say that this isn’t a diet, it’s just a different way of doing – but it’s true.  Whether you’re making a drastic change in your weight, or you’re just trying to find your way back to being healthy, it’s pretty hard to change your behaviors.  We all know what’s good for us – there are no secrets there.  We don’t have to change beliefs and our attitudes toward healthy food.  It’s about actually putting what we know into action.  And that’s the key to wellness.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Teacher, Mother, Secret Lover


So, I’m just sitting here, eating Cheerios from a baggie, toddler-style, and completing two year’s worth of online education in a few hours to renew my fitness instructor certification before it expires tonight.  I prefer to call it efficiency rather than procrastination.  The only other choice for renewal is retaking the initial certification test on physiology, biology, body parts, and whatnot.  I think we all know that’s not happening when I can just sit here with Cheerios and read PDFs of nonsense and take online quizzes set at a 3rd grade reading level.  Will it really make me a more qualified instructor if I read three pages on obese fitness participants and their potential to drop out of exercise programs?  Did you know that being sedentary leads to weight gain which leads to disease and morbidity? Of course you did.  We all do. 

Forced education - like K-12, continuing education, professional training, and the safety demonstration before a flight – serves a purpose by getting us all on the same common sense page.  But what about education on the things that really matter to us? Things like ancient aliens, gypsy weddings, hillbillies, Amish people, and dealing with not knowing we’re pregnant.  Nothing sparks discussion in our household like TV shows that take the pulse of America.  We were watching TV last night, and a commercial came on for Abby and Brittany.  I heard Eric whisper, “So many questions,” as his eyes glazed over in deep thought. 

This information we learn from TV sticks with us better than anything from school.  I have been proven not to be smarter than a 5th grader too many times for my liking. But, thanks to TV, I can consider myself essentially an expert on the paranormal because I’ve watched Ghost Hunters - domestic and international versions, Paranormal State, Ghost Bros, and Haunted Collector.  Without this televised education, I’d never be able to haughtily point out that entities feed on electromagnetic energy, like from air purifiers.  I can also put together information now, like gypsy brides are really just grown up glitz pageant girls and ancient aliens could have put the whole Amish faith system in effect when they landed during ancient times.

G.I. Joe once advised that knowing is half the battle.  Thanks to “The Learning Channel” and other cable classrooms, I’m full of knowledge and armed for whatever battle may come up.  Like trivia night at the bar. 

Monday, September 10, 2012

The Fat Fitness Instructor: After Week 1

Eggs. Eggs as far as my hungry mind’s eye can see.  High protein/low carb as a vegetarian is even more of a challenge than it is for the average Meaty Joe.  I’m a champ with fruits and vegetables - even beans and soy.  But beans have carbs, and tofu isn’t something you just throw in a pan and heat up for a snack.  In fact, tofu without any effort tastes like mucus.  Right about now, my mom would say, “Ugh, why can’t you just eat meat like a normal person? How about fish?” Eating meat “like a normal person” isn’t happening, so by day 3, I got a gigantic jug of whey protein powder and a thing of soy milk to put into smoothies.  Much better.


I’ve eaten lots of good food, and it’s been eye-opening to actually cook food.  I feel more of a connection to and responsibility for the food I’m putting in my mouth when I take the time to make it instead of getting prepared food from Wegmans.  I don’t love to cook, but I’m learning.  Also, following Jackie Warner’s advice, I’ve added nutritional supplements.


Yep, that’s a lot of pills.  And that’s only the morning ones. The supplements for the whole day are:
  • Plant-Omega (Omega-3 Fish Oil substitute)
  • Creatine Ethyl Ester HCL
  • BCAA
  • Multi-Vitamin-Mineral supplement
  • CLA
  • Ester-C (Vitamin C)
  • Lifetime Fitness’ Lean Source
The supplements seem to be worth the effort, I feel more energetic with a higher protein diet, and working out is going just swimmingly.  I’m a fat fitness instructor, after all. 
While I’ve made progress and feel great, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows.  Eric has practically had to chain me up around Cake O’clock when all I want is a slice of red velvet.  Now, I’m like an addict in detox, and it’s comforting to know that the crazy sugar cravings will continue to lessen, and I’ll be able to find other, smarter, choices than convenient junk.

Friday, September 07, 2012

Small Rebellions

My life is defined by order.  Everything has a place, a schedule, and a packing algorithm.  Without this level of control, I would never be able to accomplish the many things that I can in a short about of time.  However, as will all efficient machines, I’ve got to let off a little steam sometimes.  This is done by way of small rebellions.  For example, I have three of Eric’s dress shirts and a pair of his pants hanging in my office closet, waiting to have buttons and a hem repaired.  Eric isn’t aware that I have absolutely no idea how to repair buttons or hems.  I considered taking them to my dear tailor Miss Joy and then not telling Eric I outsourced the job.  But that seemed dishonest.  Then I thought I’d look up tutorials online and do it myself.  Then I realized I didn’t particularly care if 3/17 of his dress shirts were out of commission for another week, and I grabbed a kombucha and watched Toddlers & Tiaras on demand.

Not only are those shirts and pants probably never going to be repaired (by me), but we’re also intentionally in violation of the homeowners association for the second year in a row.  This is, by far, the lamest form of badassery.  The first year of violations was mostly because the HOA used fancy architectural terms like “widow’s walk” that we didn’t understand.  So, we threw away the warning letter.  This year, though, it was more like, “We could fix that widows walk or…go to Norway.”  I think it’s obvious which we did. To be clear, our house isn’t falling apart and there are no cars parked on our lawn or anything.  This is the widow’s walk in question there over the front porch – apparently the ornamental balls are not regulation size and shape (It’s okay, I laughed at that sentence too). 


Sometimes, however, I rebel against my own good judgment and end up hurting myself to the point where I swear I’ll just be a rule follower and fall back in line with all the other good citizens.  I have a rather cavalier attitude toward contacts and eye care.  I wear monthly contacts for a few months, I use minimal contact solution, and I nap and often sleep with my contacts in.  A few weeks ago, I slept in my contacts. My eyes got redder and harder to see out of throughout the day.  Long story short, I damaged my left cornea.  When the eye doctor said not to wear contacts for a few weeks, I rolled my (damaged) eyes and got caught.  She threatened me with never wearing contacts again.  I have obeyed so far, but not pleasantly.  I wear my glasses when absolutely necessary, but I’m really vain.  Most of the time, I’m Mr. Magoo-ing around town without my glasses on, trying to look normal despite not being able to see a thing.  So, while I learned my lesson about eye care for now, I hope not to be taught another lesson for rebelling against glasses.

These small, mostly inconsequential, rebellions keep me (mostly) sane in my world of order and process.  Even the tamest of us need a little dose of defiance from time to time. 

Monday, September 03, 2012

The Fat Fitness Instructor

I’ve gone soft.  Not personality wise, of course - I’m ruthless.  I’m talking physically. Between work, school, social obligations, and everything in between, I’ve managed to gain weight in the last year.  You don’t have to feel sorry for me, though.  I’m naturally smaller than the average human, so I’m really saying I went from a 0-2 to a 4.  But this gain has been particularly hard for me.

I make no secret of my past with anorexia, disordered eating, EDNOS, and just abut anything in between except for bulimia, because I’m not here to ruin my teeth.  I’m more of a body image masochist than someone who makes a social statement, so I’m not trying to prove a point about feminine beauty either.  As much as I hate it, I’m a slave to that common view of feminine beauty.  Beyond all that social stuff, I’m being a terrible example to others who come to me for my fitness instruction and fitness expertise.  Not only am I studying health communication – with a focus on fitness – but I’m a certified fitness instructor as well.  After I started gaining weight, I gave up my fitness instructor position at a gym and I took a break from fitness advocacy and education.  Who wants to take advice from someone who’s going to go home and eat a piece of cake, Goldfish, and half a case of Diet Coke for dinner?

I preach wellness, strength, and inner peace through physical activity and clean eating, but I beat myself up over not following my own gospel. I’m the Dalai Drama of fitness these days, and I’m tired of being conflicted. But, now, also I’m a woman of action, and there’s no crying in weight loss.  I’m sharing my plan to get back to being a good example and back to teaching fitness classes again to help others in this situation and to have some kind of accountability to the great, vast Internet.  I’ve combined my own knowledge of fitness and nutrition with the incomparable Jackie Warner’s advice and my personal trainer’s advice to create a plan that I feel is actionable and not torture. 

Here are the basics:

Sugar bad; real food good.  If that’s not enough for you, read on.

A balanced diet fit for someone who is active must include lots of protein, a variety of produce, and complex carbs.  In between those elements come 80-100 ounces of water (100 for active people, 80 for inactive), herbal and green teas, and no more than two cups of coffee.  Every meal has a (1) protein, (2) quality carb (whole grain, for example), and a (3) fruit/vegetable.  So, breakfast would be something like eggs (protein), plain oatmeal (good carb), and blueberries (fruit). 

You’re looking to at least supplement (if not making replacements) your diet with whole, clean, real foods that haven’t been processed or had any chemicals or hormones added.  The protein situation gets a little more difficult if you’re a vegetarian like me, but there are tons of protein sources.  Same goes for the vivacious vegans out there.  Luckily, nutritious, whole foods are available to just about everyone, regardless of diet or disposable income.  You don’t have to go fancy, exotic, or organic. Just eat things that are found in nature.

I’m also a believer in juicing vegetables for a boost anytime throughout the day.  I love Blueprint Cleanse juices too, ladies, but while they are high-quality and delicious, they have a ton of sugar in each one.  I have a juicer, and it was a wonderful investment.  I make a simple green juice with romaine, cucumber, lemon, and ginger.  If you’re not into juices or things like kale smoothies, you’ll have to get used to the taste. It's worth it.

Eating throughout the day keeps your metabolism up, and it keeps your hunger at bay.  I’ve always felt my best when I’ve eaten a little bit every few hours.  The key with that strategy is eating a little bit.

For exercise, there’s nothing complicated here.  You need to get in at least 30 minutes of cardio 5 days a week, and 1-2 sessions of strength training.  The quickest and most interesting way to make cardio progress is with interval training.  This is where you vary your workout intensity.  For example, walk 1 minute, run 1:30 and repeat for the workout duration.  Strength training can be with free weights, resistance bands, on machines, using your own body weight, or with foam weights in the pool.  Strength training is important for two good reasons: (1) you get lean and lovely and (2) more muscle leads to a better metabolism.

Now, tomorrow morning begins my practicing what I preach.  Form a prayer circle for me.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

The Day I Was a Mental Patient

Have you ever just needed a break? Some time to get rid of the stress and anxiety that makes you feel like you’re slowly losing your mind? I did. And I did it in the most extreme way possible, because I’m just that kind of girl.

I won’t bore you with the details of why my anxiety got out of control, mostly because they just sound like White Girl Problems when I say them out loud.  Regardless of the source of one’s anxiety, the important part is that there are psychological, physiological, and social ramifications of allowing anxiety to spiral out of control like I did.  I was gradually ruining my life and I was taking those closest to me down the rabbit hole as well. 

I’m genetically predisposed to panic attacks, but they tend to only rear their ugly heads about twice a year, and usually for a good reason.  My panic attacks began to increase in frequency a few months ago, and they were happening for no apparent reason.  I frantically told my therapist that I needed help.  I talked myself into thinking I was going crazy and that I was having a psychotic break.  My therapist encouraged me to make my own decisions about what needed to be done about getting back to feeling like myself – and I decided that what I needed was a trip to outpatient therapy at a local mental hospital.

When I imagined outpatient therapy, I saw a pool, spa food, and a lot of talking about my feelings.  Basically, I pictured celebrity-caliber drug rehab.  Outpatient therapy is nothing like that.  In fact, the other name for outpatient therapy is “partial hospitalization.”  My first day of treatment, I showed up to a decrepit old mental hospital that was clearly haunted. I sat in the waiting area before our day was supposed to begin, and others slowly filed in.  One woman stretched herself out across a plastic couch and proceeded to yip and yell things out.  Another woman mumbled to herself in the corner.  I sat there reading, trying to look like I was just waiting for a crazy friend.

When a nurse called me, we went up to the floor where we would be for the day.  We passed through a large room with people coloring and a woman dancing like Richard Simmons to the oldies radio station.  I was told to turn in my cell phone until “phone time,” and off we went for the in-processing interview.  Most of the interview consisted of the nurse asking behavioral questions and me saying, “What? People do that?”  She asked about impulsive behavior, and it made me think.  I started a Ph.D. program on a whim and I tend to be all like, “Let’s go to Norway tomorrow!” (that actually happened) – but apparently none of that counts.  It seems that impulsive behavior, no matter how weird and how much your parents and friends give you the side-eye, only counts if you can’t afford it.  Apparently socioeconomic status always reigns supreme.

Our morning group session was already in progress when I got out of the interview.  I grabbed a seat and a worksheet and tried to catch up.  The worksheet had questions about goals for the day, our feelings, and our “safety level.”  I figured that my goal was to figure out what this whole deal was about, and I guessed I was somewhat safe, making me a 5 on the scale of 0-10, 10 being safest.  Others around me talked with difficulty about their goals for the day – many of which were making psychiatry appointments and taking meds.  Group members tentatively rated themselves at moderate safety levels.  Everyone was kind and welcoming to me, and for that I was extremely grateful.  

The day continued with group sessions on various topics, and during the sessions, people were pulled out for social worker and psychiatrist appointments.  The group discussions were fascinating – these people were really hurting and they were scared for themselves and their own safety.  In one group session, we discussed anger.  I got to thinking that, sure, I get angry sometimes.  I had to take an online aggressive driving course a few years ago.  And I once threw a fit in a McDonalds when they were out of parfaits.  But by the time I focused back on the discussion, we were talking about punching through bulletproof glass, scaring family members away, and being arrested for angry outbursts.  They got to me and I had nothing interesting to add about my anger.  It was like that scene in Mean Girls when the girls are listing everything that’s wrong with their appearances and Cady says, “Um, I have really bad breath in the morning.”  While I was enjoying hearing people talk about their situations, I felt that I wasn’t really in the right place and that I shouldn’t have the privilege of hearing their stories.

Throughout the day, it because even clearer that I was not a candidate for “partial hospitalization.”  I felt like an imposter and almost like a field researcher as people yelled out, wandered the room, cried, danced, and discussed the breakdowns that had led them to the hospital.  I began to freak out all Girl, Interrupted style.  During phone time, I frantically texted my therapist to get me out of there.  I grabbed a nurse and pulled her aside telling her I needed to get out – these people were crazy.  In hindsight, I looked insane when I was telling the nurse how sane I was.  My panic escalated to its apex when we had our wrap-up meeting to plan for the weekend.  Most people’s goals were to stay safe and to have some form of social contact, like going to the grocery store.  I also learned that “safety level” didn’t mean something new-agey and warm and fuzzy; it was a scale indicating the likelihood that we would harm ourselves or others.  So, there I was, not knowing all day that those people around me with safety levels of a 2 or 3 were likely to hurt themselves or shank me with a color pencil.

I was so in over my head.  Being (partially) hospitalized is a new level.  Even the most calm, “normal” person would come out of a day of outpatient therapy having over-analyzed herself and thinking she may be crazy.  I left the hospital feeling shell-shocked.  However, I won’t lie about taking advantage of the mental patient status.  There is a sense of freedom and being able to do whatever I wanted because I was technically a mental patient. It was a license to be weird.  But, all good things must come to an end.  On Sunday, I notified the hospital that I wouldn’t be coming back. 

Though I skewed toward the dramatic by checking into an outpatient program for my anxiety, I learned valuable information from my day as a mental patient.  Most importantly, I learned that my anxiety – though sometimes emotionally and physiologically painful – is not in the realm of crazy. In fact, I’m not sure there’s really a solid definition for crazy.  For now, I’m going to go with neurotic and delightfully eccentric, or just Kelly.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Housewifing Gets Real

I’ve been given the wonderful gift of finishing up my last year in my Ph.D. by being a housewife-student.  Since school hasn’t started back up yet, I’ve only been the first part of the hyphenate…and it’s not quite what I imagined.  I thought being a housewife was going to be all watching TLC and being able to make microderm appointments for during the day.  I also thought that being a housewife meant wearing aprons and pearls and being afraid of being left alone with a serviceman. It turns out that it’s more like getting up sticky stuff and mystery crumbs while wearing yoga pants and a shirt from the 2009 National Book Festival, bear claw slippers, and hair that would make servicemen afraid to be alone with me.

I’ve made a pretty valiant effort at housewifing so far.  I get a bit of good karma each day for making Eric’s work lunches (including embarrassing notes so his friends will make fun of him).  Unfortunately, he sent me an email one day around noon to let me know his sandwich looked like this:



So maybe I should have coffee before making lunches.  I also tried couponing, thinking I could save our household some money, but the one I tried to use for $0.30 off Kashi bars wouldn’t scan, so I gave that up.

This has been pretty cool so far, but my worst fear is that staying at home and doing stuff around the house will lead me to become like the, ugh, other half of the Pinterest population.  Those are the pinners who, instead of swooning over shoes, vacation destinations, and interior design, are all like, “OMG, you can make your own laundry detergent?!” I d-o-n-apostrophe-t DIY.  In fact, I miss having an excuse not to cook or clean.  I also miss wearing real clothes and talking to humans.  All I get around here is conversation with Tater, and honestly, he’s either asleep or making this face:


He’s also very little help with research or dissertation planning.

Though my new workload is now a bit more physical –which is great because, you know, calories - it does allow me to watch Wendy Williams and be all “How you doin’” along with her to my 4th cup of coffee.  Also, being at home really appeals to my OCD, because everything is now under my jurisdiction.  The dishwasher shall be loaded using the correct algorithm.  Laundry is done in the approved manner.  And, most importantly, only the raw, vegan, juiced, gluten-free – or whatever I’m feeling that week - meals will be allowed, since I feel fat and, therefore, Eric should too. 

We’ll see how things go this week when school starts and I feel compelled to actually do school work too.  Perhaps I’ll feel less like a neurotic waste of space? Probably not. It's part of my charm.

Wednesday, January 04, 2012

Things I've Done This Week Instead of Writing My Dissertation

1. I went through boxes from my parents' basement and found important stuff, like:

dance costumes from the early 90s;




a Nintendo from the mid-80s;


one of my many college IDs that I had to get since I insisted on tucking them into my underwear for frat parties instead of carrying a purse;


and a "He's Interested Trophy." Yeah, I don't know what that is either.


2. I baked and ate a lot of Wookie Cookies.


4. I altered Eric's clothing to fit Teddy.


5. I made a superhero cape for a friend's childhood stuffed dog.


 6. I posed the dog to look valiant.


7. I made my boss a felt viking hat.


8. I used up 10 more minutes taking pictures and posting about everything.