I've lost 5 lbs., but not by exercise.

Sunday morning I woke up with this dry, sore spot in the back of my throat. It wasn't painful, just annoying. Keep the fluids in, blow my nose really well before bed time (to cut off that relentless "post nasal drip" at the pass) and it'll pass. But then I couldn't sleep Sunday night. I finally drifted off at about midnight or so, and had to drag myself out of bed at 5 am. Except now, that little spot that hurt on Sunday was a very painful area that covered at least half of my throat. But I was determined to keep going. So I showered up, put make up on, and was forcing myself to down a glass of pomengranet/blueberry juice when I just realized "This hurts, A LOT. And I'm taking a sick day, and I won't feel bad about it." So I did. Typed up my sub plans & emailed them to my fifth grade teacher neighbor & begged for her help. Actually, I really didn't have to beg as I had to cover her ass for 2 weeks last year when she had a horrendous case of the flu, and then again when her father died. At any rate, typed them up, washed the make up off, and crawled back into bed.
Later that morning when I got up, I realized that I was in a lot of pain. But I was still able to work on some school work that I had put off, so I got that done. Matty & I took the recycling down the dump bins & then I went into BiLo to buy some cough drops. That's got to help, I'm thinking. A little zinc, a little echinacea, I'll be back on my feet.
Tuesday morning- technically I woke up at 3 am with searing pain in my entire throat, and what felt like softballs resting in the back of my mouth. It's what I liken to having someone take sandpaper to the raw tissue of your throat. It was so swollen, and hurt so bad, I would literally spit my normal saliva out rather than have to swallow. In fact, when I did swallow, I would brace myself, and grip the sheets as if I were in labor. I'm not trying to be dramatic here. This is as accurate as I can describe it. Managed to wrangle a doctor's appointment in Simpsonville, which led to two strep tests (aka - "How many times will Heather gag when you shove that Q-tip down her throat?") The first came back negative (of course), so they had to do a "strep culture" test which I can only assume tests for the possibility of strep. At this point, I couldn't have cared less what I had. "Mrs. Waters, we think you have the Ebola virus." "Fine, whatever, give me drugs NOW." I left not really knowing what I had but in my hand I carried a prescription for what shall now be known as "Magic Mouthwash".
Magic Mouthwash has to be created by the pharmacist. They could put mop water & crack-cocaine in it for all I cared. All I know is that the first time I took it, a warm,numbing sensation ran down my throat & I was finally able to eat & drink. So Matty cooked me up some scrambled eggs, cheese & grits. I sat at the table & gingerly at a few spoonfuls. I wasn't feeling quite right, but then again, I realized I hadn't really eaten or drank anything all day. Ate a few more spoonfuls, then went to the restroom. Feeling slightly better, I'm "cleaning up" when Matthew calls , "Hey honey, have you drunk from my waterbottle since you've been sick?" And I would have answered him, but OUT OF FREAKIN' NOWHERE I threw myself over the edge of the tub where I vomitted everything I had eaten. Violently. It sort of scared me. I mean, I haven't thrown up in years. But, after about 5 or 6 minutes of that, I felt better. Well, at least well enough to lay back down on the couch & sleep for 2 more hours. ( I felt so bad for the grits & eggs that Matty made me I covered them with saran wrap so I could try to eat them another day)
Wednesday- mucho, mucho better. The swelling is down, the amoxicillin seems to be working, and I've only had to use the mouthwash once today. I actually got up and accomplished some stuff today. Swept the sunroom, picked up my sheets & blankets & piles of laundry I'd left from disrobing wherever I stood. Did the dishes & cleaned off the table. I've made the bold assertion that I will be back to school tomorrow. I've been out since Monday. Three days - that's the longest I've ever missed school. And you know - I actually want to go back. Hopefully, this is the downward slope of whatever third world disease I've picked up. In fact, it's time for that second dose of meds.....

What's the saying about horses & falling off & stuff?

Last week was a bust - gym wise. I forget why I didn't go Monday, but I'm sure it was for no good reason. Tuesday & Wednesday the in-laws were visiting, and it would be rude to go to the gym after a long day of work. Thursday -well, I was tired & figured if I hadn't gone the other three days, what good would there be in one day's attendance. Friday-date night. Saturday morning yoga was skipped in order to attend the Farmer's Market with mi madre (and a side order of Dunkin' Donuts wheat bagel & cream cheese). Sunday afternoon yoga was ALSO skipped in order to complete school work, and to grab a wee afternoon nap. In conclusion - I pretty much just took up space & used oxygen last week.
But that was last week, and this is a new week. I'm all about new beginnings, and today was no exception. So this afternoon, at approximately 4:20, I tore out of the school parking lot & headed to the gym to meet my nemesis, elliptical machine. However, my allergy to kryptonite was acting up & I opted for the less brutal treadmill. I still managed to hoof it at about 20 minutes & made 1.58 miles. Not too bad for one doing exercise pennance. Tomorrow night will reunite me with my old friend, Pilates. Oh, leg circles. How I despise you........

The wind beneath my wings, ...well, sort of.

I'm a pretty selfish person, and I say that with no amount of pride. In some ways, I feel stunted in the fact that - when it's all said and done- I'm thinking about whether things worked out the way I wanted them to or not. I'm selfish about a lot of things : my food (quit eating off of my plate & begging me for more! Quit taking the biggest, best piece of pizza/cobbler/chicken/etc ! Quit asking for a taste of whatever it is I'm eating!), my sleep (Quit getting me off schedule just because you want/don't want to do something) my music (I love that song and I don't care if I have the CD - I want to listen to it now). I swear, in my own head sometimes, I sound just like Veruca Salt from "Charlie & the Chocolate Factory".
I don't mean to be selfish. And though it doesn't sound like it, in regards to other people, I am very generous. At least I like to think I am. I try to remain considerate of others' needs, wants, abilities, personalities. I cry (literally) for the homeless, be they people or animals (one of the reasons why I cannot watch "Animal Cops" shows ; they just tear me up). I love my students and coworkers, family & friends, and most people in general. I want to help others, in any way I can. It makes me feel good to make others feel good. Which is why I recently decided to allow a practicum student into my classroom in upcoming weeks. I mentioned the fact that I am a selfish person because, truthfully, I don't want anyone disrupting my routine. It's not like I expect her to come in my room, sit in the back and start shooting spitballs or something. I know she's there to learn. Why, just a mere 8 -10 years ago- that was me. And I appreciated the fact that teachers would change their daily schedules & lesson plans to allow me access to their room where I would try to "teach" a lesson. But, I just don't want someone - ANYONE- in my room with my kids when I'm teaching. I'm thinking "Leave us alone, please!" But that's wrong. My room should be open to all. By the way, Jim Rex (State Superintendent of Ed) will be visiting our school this month - WOW! And even though it would be neat to have that kind of a big-wig in my room, at the same time I'm thinking, "Quit coming in to see everything I'm doing - we all know you're going to forget me as soon as you close the door".
It's ridiculous, I know. I know. I mean, I don't want to paint the picture that I'm an anti-social psychotic teaching nut. I really don't mind if anyone is observing or visiting in my room. I would just rather they didn't. I don't even like sharing my class with the other teachers. That's crazy!! I should welcome it! But deep down - waaaaaaayyyyy down- I don't. Maybe I'm slightly OCD, and it rocks my world to have to change things up so often. I am , afterall, a creature of habit. I love & thrive in routine. And to break this nasty habit of same-old/same-old, I am opting to have a practicum student in my room. She's going to observe a few lessons, and she has to teach 2 science lessons (luckily, that's Sandy's room). But I need this. It's time I gave back to all of those who opened their doors for some stupid doe-eyed Lander practicum student who didn't know what in the hell she was doing. You know what will happen? The day she comes to observe will be the day I get observed by the principal (who knows- maybe the State SuperI, too!)
So, I end this post with a pledge: I shall do my best to let go of the thought that my classroom is only MY classroom, and open it to those who want only to learn, to be taught, or to point out all of the things I did wrong.
(Let's be honest- what are teacher/admin observations for?)

Hit the gym: Fo' Shizz!

Wednesday. I made it! Woo-Hoo! And I did it again- I just got on that fargin' elliptical, cranked up my MP3, and checked out into HeatherLand. I did it for 30 minutes at a pretty good, aerobic pace. The first 15 were ok, but for some reason, the next 10 took FOREVER. And it was only for 30 minutes! But, I made myself do the entire thirty. I didn't skimp out at minute 27 or 28. Right at 30:03, I stopped the machine, and walked down stairs where I walked the track two times to cool off. Then I went to the mat & did some really good yoga stretches on my legs. Every time I do it, I forget how good it feels to stretch. Some poses, like Pigeon and Double Pigeon, feel soooooo good on those outer thighs. It's such a release! Anyway, I just wanted to let you know - for the record- that I did officially hit my 3rd day at the gym this week. I don't know about you, but at this blog, we celebrate the little victories as much as the big ones. WOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Hit the gym: check

Last week I made it to the gym a total of 2x. Monday and Tuesday. I was good, too. I did cardio for about 40 minutes on Monday, and then anything I could possibly remember from Pilates class for another 40 minutes on Tuesday. Wednesday I didn't go, because I wanted to rest & I had a crap-ton of school work to do. Thursday I didn't go because I forgot my stinkin' bag at home, and it would have taken an extra twenty to thirty minutes to run home & get it and THEN go to the gym, so I just went home instead. Friday I took my brother & his girlfriend to see Jim Gaffigan at Clemson. FUNNY!! Saturday was yoga in the a.m., followed by Sunday with yoga in the p.m. All of that to say, that today I hit the gym again. Second Monday in a row. I'm feeling pumped, and I will feel free to celebrate the small victory of two consecutive weeks of gym attendance. I plan on going to Pilates tomorrow night, following a luscious "brinner" dinner of whole wheat pancakes & scrambled egg product. Wednesday will be the big day- the THIRD day in a row. The deciding factor: will this be a week of promise or a week of failed dreams?? I'm gonna do it- it's gonna happen!!!!
There's all sorts of different information out there about exercise & nutrition & BMI and what not. I'm just gonna shoot for a goal of 30 -40 minutes of "working out" a week. They may be cardio, it may be Pilates, it may be walking/running intervals. Who knows? I have to change it up though, or else I'll go bored out of my skull. Then I won't come back until an additional 7 pounds has crept up. And if I don't have my MP3 player? Forget it. I'll just go home & take a short walk after dinner. I don't know about anyone else, but I've got to have my music. It keeps me motivated, and I'm just OCD enough to try to match my walk/run/ breathing pattern with the rhythm of the music.
But there is something I have discovered: I have endurance. What kind of endurance, I don't know. I was on the dreaded elliptical (I hate it because it never fails to make my feet feel hot & cramped) and was really going. Maybe 67 rotations per minute. Really hoppin'. And I was watching news channel 4 and concentrating on reading the closed captioning and keeping my breathing pattern the same......and it hit me. I had been doing this for almost fifteen minutes, and it didn't feel like it. I felt like I could have kept going at that pace forever. I had found a rhythm and a "zone", for lack of a better word. And I just kept going. Then, my goal turned into "keep this rhythm up until it's time to go". And I did! Well, for the most part. I did wimp out at the last 6 minutes, but really it was because my feet were hot, and my chest was hurting (never mind I was convinced I was on the verge of a heart attack. That's an anxiety-disorder, for you!) But I did it, and it made me feel good in the discovery that I could make my body do something while my brain checks out. Not completely, of course, since a large part of what I'm doing is for my mental wellbeing. I hope to not only lose weight, but also find a way to replace my anxiety medication w/ regular exercise, as much as possible. But I could give my body a job, find a rhythm it could work with and concentrate on, and then......fly off anywhere in my mind. It was enlightening, to say the least!
So, for any gym rats out there, keep it up. I'm sweating along with you, and hating it as much. Just pony up on that treadmill, look those step machines in the eye, and think..... "Semper Fi"
Oooh - Ra!! (as they say in the Marines)

I think, therefore I procrastinate

I had all these good intentions: I was going to get all of my lesson plans done so I could just enjoy my weekend with no paperwork. And then, I got home. And I sat down. And the Hubs and me laid on the bed and chitchatted for a bit. And the more I sat/laid down, the more it became apparent that I just wasn't going to work. At all. It's going to sit there until Sunday, MAYBE Saturday while Matt works. It will sit there, and I will do it when I feel the pressure on me, which is when I do my best work.
Besides, it's just a bunch of BS anyway. I have to have this gay crap like "intro", "materials","& "closing" in each lesson plan. (P.S- my lesbian friend told me it was ok to describe things as gay if, and I quote, "if they're queer, then they're queer. What's the big deal?") I mean, I literally have to write/say in my intro "Today we will...." and then in my closing I have to use the "today we/tomorrow we will" format. For example: "Today we learned how homesteaders used the environment to help them survive. Tomorrow, we will learn about another type of homesteader called an exoduster." Whatever. I really, really wish people would just leave me alone & let me teach. Which, according to many people (and I include some teachers in this) is something I should NOT want. My old principal asked us in a grade level meeting one time, "Do you need my help or do you want me to just leave you alone and let you teach?" I really did almost say "yes!". Somehow, though, that response is wrong. I guess I'm supposed to want help, want collaboration, want input, want "constructive criticism". But I don't. I'm not saying I don't want to work or collaborate with my coworkers or even my admin. For the most part, I enjoy working with them and getting input. But at the end of the day (or, actually, the beginning) I really want to take everything I've gleaned from everyone, shut my classroom door, and do my job w/out anyone else bothering me. And if that's wrong of me, then fine. I'm wrong.
As a side note, I am currently in the process of losing weight, or rather, trying to lose weight. Within the past year I have developed a touch of hypothyroidism (in a nutshell, my 'roid isn't keeping up with its duties, per se), and I started my lifelong regimen of thyroid medication. That being said, before I found out about this underproductive part of my body, I was constantly tired, constantly hungry, and constantly gaining weight. And of course, its all in the lower belly/waist/ ass/ thigh region. Why, oh, why could it have not accumulated at my boobs? At any rate, it's there and mocking me on a daily basis. "Psst! Remember when you were in high school and you only weighed 110? You'll never see those days again! Oops! Another pocket of cellulite! And how about - for shits and giggles- we add a good 7 pounds around your waist so all of those new pants you just bought feel like garote wire, all the while making you look 5 months pregnant?!" It's horrible to feel this way because A) I've always been petite and this just reminds me on a daily basis that my body is rejecting everything that ever reminded it of youthfulness, and B) I feel guilty for feeling bad about feeling like I'm overweight. Confusing? I feel bad about feeling like I've gained weight (which is a scientific fact- I HAVE gained weight) because I feel like I don't have the right to feel bad. According to other people, I look the same, so why should I complain, right? I have to live with this body. I have to feel the rolls that are growing at my sides and hips, even if you don't think they're there. They are. I have to shimmy into the pants (that just fit last week ) on the bed, and deal with not being able to breathe when I bend over. I have to feel that nasty 4 inch roll of skin and whatnot that overhangs my pants line every day. I have to look down and see my gut consistently poking out, only to suck it back in and much as I can and tell myself "It's an ab workout." I have to remind myself that every woman on the planet, even the ones on the cover of "US Weekly" have cellulite, and if they don't it's only because they paid someone to remove it. Why am I obsessed? I wish I knew.
So I will have to be much more consistent in my gym attendance, as well as my snacking/cravings. I snack all the time, and never realize it. And I'm ravenous in the mornings and evenings, which causes me to eat like I haven't in weeks. Slowly but surely, I'm working on it, and trying to achieve small goals. This first small goal: hit the gym no less than 3x a week - and yoga doesn't count. I mean it does, but not towards this. After that goal, I'll work myself up into a goal dealing w/ my actual workout program. My final goal is my reward: if I lose about 8-10 pounds, and have developed exercise & eating habits that I can acceptably & reasonably live with..... I will get a tatoo. It's true. I'm going to get a peacock feather. I figure all the time I'm going to spend running/ lifting/ walking/ ab-bing this work off will give me a chance to figure out where it's going to go.......