<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' gd:etag='W/&quot;DkcCRnw9fyp7ImA9WxVbFks.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802</id><updated>2009-04-02T05:21:07.267-04:00</updated><title>Not Fat Yet.</title><subtitle type='html'>I used to be hot in a Plain Jane, tomboy, girl-next-door sort of way. Now I'm 27, married, and bigger than I've ever been - but I'm not fat yet. Join me as I try not to fade into mediocrity.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;AkUBRnY4fSp7ImA9WB9SGEo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-5418731560557493648</id><published>2007-10-08T16:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T17:17:37.835-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-10-08T17:17:37.835-04:00</app:edited><title>Gym Buddies.</title><content type='html'>Have you ever taken a class with someone you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BFF finally joined the Y and she's gone with me to a couple of classes.  I'm sort of undecided about how I feel about this.  On one hand, it's nice to have someone to walk with - and I'm excited to be a good influence! I never would have guessed that I'd be an exercising ambassador!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, my step classes may have been more of a personal experience than I thought.  I am a little bit sad to be sharing.  Plus, I took her to my Saturday morning class, which [surprise!] was taught by an instructor that I'd never had before - and she was CRAZY hard.  I told you that some of my classes have rotating instructors - well, this lady is absolutely buff, teaches while using the highest step, does really hard steps and combos, and doesn't stop at all for water breaks!  Great first class for BFF, right?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus - I fell down.  Yep, I fell down and landed on my hands and feet, thankfully avoiding and ass-to-step situation.  Well, let's just say that Fancy Hard Core Instructor totally embarrassed me even more - if that's possible.  She looked really concerned and interrupted the whole class to see if I was ok - which I get.  But then she made me swear I was ok - I understand that most people who bust probably &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;say&lt;/span&gt; they're fine, even when they're not, just to save face.  She was right to make sure.  But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;then&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;then&lt;/span&gt; she said something like "You know, often, when we fall, our egos are hurt more than our bodies!  Hahaaahaa!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time, I'm still not losing any weight.  AH says he thinks my calves feel more firm and awesome.  Even though I'm not so thrilled with Preggers, it's true that I've been totally into all of the lunges and squats she puts in her choreography.  Makes me feel like I'm literally working my ass off.  Gee, I'm hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, dudes.  Sandy out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-5418731560557493648?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/5418731560557493648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=5418731560557493648' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/5418731560557493648?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/5418731560557493648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/10/gym-buddies.html' title='Gym Buddies.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CUcBRXY7fCp7ImA9WB9TGUw.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-6131566238893837005</id><published>2007-09-27T12:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T13:10:54.804-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-09-27T13:10:54.804-04:00</app:edited><title>Yada Yada Blah Blah Blah.</title><content type='html'>Where have I been? Hmmmm....bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned a while ago that I heard it takes 6 weeks to make a habit.  I guess I can sort of confirm that theory because exercise has sort of become a habit for me, I'm proud to say.  I've pretty much given up on the elliptical machine, though.  I find it to be so boring!  I think step classes are my thing - I'm doing mostly intermediate classes now - some with weights.  BUT!  I still haven't seen my favorite Fit &amp;amp; Flabby, which makes me sad! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may have told you already - Fit &amp;amp; Flabby was apparently just covering for a fitness instructor who was on maternity leave.  They've been rotating classes, but, because of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I've missed every opportunity to take F&amp;amp;F's classes.  Ugh.  And, again, I find myself completely confused.  Not only is Preggers [that's what I'll call the new lady] still carrying baby weight [which is obviously to be expected] - she is NOT fit. At all.  I'm not sure how she gets through the classes, to be honest - and she often teaches my intermediate class and the beginner class right afterward.  I just don't get it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hate the idea of women sniping at women - especially over weight and body image issues. We should all be on the same side of that fight.  But I can't say that I hope to look like Preggers - even After She Loses The Baby Weight Preggers - after several months of taking her class.  I don't know what to do about this.  Basically, what I'm learning at the Y is that, even if you're the type of person who is motivated enough about exercise to become an instructor - and therefore lead exercise classes 4 or 5 days a week - sometimes 2 or 3 times a day - you still may be way overweight and unhealthy-looking.  This is discouraging.  On top of all of this, Preggers is SO instructional that I've been forced to tak the intermediate classes just so I'm not bored.  So don't think I'm awesome all of a sudden.  There's a distinct possibility that I haven't actually grown more accomplished in my exercise routine - and an entirely real possibility that Preggers' classes are just easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to start watching what I eat.  I know you all are reading this thinking "DUH."  I was hoping to see some sort of result without a big change in eating habits.  I guess hope just isn't enough!  I wonder if I'm strong enough to do that.  I also wonder if it's possible for me to start slowly.  I kind of think I might have to go all or nothing.  That seems to work for me, but I don't know that I'm willing to completely rework my whole diet right now.  I kind of feel like the fire in my belly is dissipating - and yet the fat is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for my newly formed exercise habit...Like I said - I've nixed the elliptical.  Which means I exercise 5 days a week - Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays &amp;amp; Saturdays.  BUT - that means I'm getting varying amounts of cardio, weights, and abseach time.  Each class is one hour long, so I don't think I'm getting enough cardio.  I need someone to tell me what to do!!!  What do you guys think I need to do to drop even ONE pound?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-6131566238893837005?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/6131566238893837005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=6131566238893837005' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/6131566238893837005?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/6131566238893837005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/09/yada-yada-blah-blah-blah.html' title='Yada Yada Blah Blah Blah.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CEMHQHY5fCp7ImA9WB5aF0k.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-2203106536095719190</id><published>2007-09-13T23:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T00:00:31.824-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-09-14T00:00:31.824-04:00</app:edited><title>On Fake Vacay.</title><content type='html'>I'm in Florida for Rosh Hashana - woo hoo! You know what that means: brisket.  Mmmmm.  So I don't have much time to share, but I want to give you a few updates!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I jinxed myself.  That weight I thought I lost - totally back.  Sucks.  How 'bout you, CCC?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I met my brother-in-law's new girlfriend today - not that his divorce is final. Long story.  But the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;important&lt;/span&gt; thing to note is that she looks like Mymsie!  I loathed his wife - but this girl was cool!  Admittedly, as soon as I saw her and drew the comparison to Mymsie, I decided I loved her.  So she might suck, but I've decided she rocks.  I kept having to stop myself from asking her how her sewing is going.  Weird little world we've created where we feel like we know strangers, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  LOTS of food.  Mother-in-law is an amazing cook and I've stuffed myself full.  Actually, Fake Mymsie brought an awesome cake - and I thought she was taking it home with her, so I shoveled THREE pieces into my face before I realized she was leaving it for us to enjoy for the rest of the visit. Oy vey.  What away to ring in the year 5768.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-2203106536095719190?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/2203106536095719190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=2203106536095719190' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/2203106536095719190?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/2203106536095719190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/09/on-fake-vacay.html' title='On Fake Vacay.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;D0QDQno5fip7ImA9WB5aE0U.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-900688330739631346</id><published>2007-09-08T21:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T20:49:33.426-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-09-09T20:49:33.426-04:00</app:edited><title>Crisis of Faith.</title><content type='html'>Ok - maybe the word "crisis" is a bit alarmist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was awakened this morning at 10:30 by a friend's phone call.  I ignored it.  I [like you, Mymsie] was up until like 3 or 4am watching TV - I'm a total junkie.  The point of the story is that my Saturday step class with Manly Fingerless Buff Lady [who I like, despite her somewhat militant style] begins at 11am.   AH convinced me to drag my ass out of bed, eat a banana and some yogurt, and get to class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been to a step class, the staple of my workout routine, for two weeks!  Which brings me to the reason for my not-so-melodramatic crisis of faith.  The Y was pretty much closed this whole week - with the exception of the room with all of the machines in it.  So, in my admittedly limited bubble, the only method of exercise available to me was the elliptical machine.  After 7 whole days of not exercising, I got on the elliptical machine on Tuesday for 40 minutes - which was so effing boring after my week-long dry spell that I couldn't talk myself into going again until yesterday, Friday.  I did it again for an hour - and I sweat a lot and my feet hurt, but I wasn't even panting by the time the hour was up.  That means either I'm awesome or I'm just a sweaty girl that isn't working hard enough.  Whichever way you cut it, this week was lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the Y was partially closed, the locker rooms were taken apart...and that's where they keep the scales.  So, for the entire time I slacked &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; this whole week, I had no access to a scale...until today.  Well, surprise, surprise.  I hopped on the scale today - eyes squinting in fear - and, low and behold, I've &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lost&lt;/span&gt; weight.  Um, excuse me?  How is it possible that I've dropped 4 pounds while doing nothing?  Scratch that - I've done a lot - just not exercise.  I've EATEN a lot: Starbucks espresso brownies, for one thing.  So what the hell?  I worked my ass off exercising 5 and 6 days a week for 3 weeks and didn't drop an ounce. Then I get lazy and I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rewarded&lt;/span&gt;? That's bullshit, I tell you.  Crazy talk even.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been terrible about food lately.  On Thursday night, I ate Papa John's and orange soda.  For shame.  Last night, I tried to make a cake - partially because I wanted one, and partially because I wanted to make something for Friend With The Enviable Job who was leaving town the next morning [this morning].  Not sure how I did it, but I managed to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;break&lt;/span&gt; the cake.  Whatever.  I deserved it - I mean what reasonable person who's trying to get all hot and sexy makes a cake in their house?!  Lucky for me [but not for my love handles], I was able to use my crafty skills to cement is back together [mostly] with frosting.  Mmmmm.  I didn't wind up seeing FWTEJ before he left, so the cake it all mine [mWAHhahahaHaha].  In fact, after this morning's step class, I rushed home and rewarded myself with a piece.  And more orange soda - out of a wine glass - you know, classy like Britney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's up with this weight loss? I bet it's phantom weight loss.  Is there even such a thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight:&lt;/span&gt; 161&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout:&lt;/span&gt; Step class with some weights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water:&lt;/span&gt; 2 bottles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:&lt;/span&gt;  Manly Fingerless Buff Lady played CASSETTE TAPES&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-900688330739631346?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/900688330739631346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=900688330739631346' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/900688330739631346?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/900688330739631346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/09/crisis-of-faith.html' title='Crisis of Faith.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;A0cBR3k7fyp7ImA9WB5bGUg.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-7705041117648734830</id><published>2007-09-04T21:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T22:24:16.707-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-09-04T22:24:16.707-04:00</app:edited><title>Eponymous.</title><content type='html'>I don't know what to title this posting.  I could have called it I'm Back or Back on the Saddle or Have I Gone &amp; Ruined It All? or I Suck or I Didn't Fall Off of the Planet or Have I Lost My Few Precious Readers? or I'm A Big Fat Failure or I Failed But I Have A Good Reason - or I'm a Big Fat Excuse Maker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the short version:  I am not pregnant. I am fine with that.  I had never planned to get pregnant to begin with.  I finally got my period last Thursday night - two weeks late - but spent the interim weeks feeling like a crazy crazy whacked out lunatic of a hormonal woman.  It was pretty debilitating, which is sort of embarrassing to admit.  But, the good news is that I wasn't actually crazy.  I had an ovarian cyst that ruptured - and produced the crazy hormone that had me feeling like a schizophrenic.  It's like the real me was watching the crazy take over my brain or something - I knew the nuts-ish-ness wasn't me, but it's nice to have that confirmed by an M.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time I exercised was last Monday - I know. Sucks.  I felt REALLY weird - which made me nervous.  What if I had been pregnant AND I felt like a loony toon?  I was concerned there was some sort of problem and that I'd hurt a potential baby - or just pop - if I moved around too much.  I know it's silly now.  But whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed my one month anniversary!  I wrote my little manifesto four weeks ago last Thursday and had planned to follow it up one month later - along with my one month photo shoot.  And I'd promised myself a new pair of running shoes if I could make it to the 4 week mark.  I'd never been able to stay on the wagon for more than 3 weeks - and although I made it 3 weeks and one day, that's just shitty.  I'm mad that I failed myself and I'm not sure if the cyst is a good enough excuse for letting this happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to get back on the horse at the beginning of this week, but the Y was closed on Monday for the holiday...and now it's partially closed for the rest of the week.  All classes are canceled for the next few days, so now I've lost my cute Fit &amp; Flabby AND the class she no longer teaches.  Tonight I did 40 minutes on the elliptical machine, but it sucked.  I would have done an hour, but I was bored beyond belief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what you're thinking: waah waah waah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true.  I'm being a baby.  I'm going to take Oprah's advice [I never thought I'd hear myself say that] and just hop right back on like nothing [including 2 Starbucks brownies] happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blllaaahhh!  Frustration!  I want to be hot!  I could be if I just effing got control of myself!  EEEERG! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes 6 weeks to make a habit, right?  Does this faltering mean I need to start over?  Or should I start counting at 3 weeks?  To try to perk myself up, I did buy myself some new running shoes - but I bought a pair off of the discount rack at Sports Authority since I didn't really earn a kick ass pair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm back.  Don't give up on me if you haven't already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-7705041117648734830?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/7705041117648734830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=7705041117648734830' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/7705041117648734830?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/7705041117648734830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/09/eponymous.html' title='Eponymous.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CEcBSXo_fCp7ImA9WB5bE0s.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-5171749317208129225</id><published>2007-08-28T22:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T00:34:18.444-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-29T00:34:18.444-04:00</app:edited><title>Ain't Got No Job. Ain't Got Shit To Do.</title><content type='html'>That's right. We're here to talk about Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a weird weird day.  As you all know, I've been way preoccupied with the misplacement of my period and all of the implications that come with or without it.  I genuinely expected it to arrive on Monday - or at least by Wednesday - so, by Friday, it was tardy to say the least. I'm generally like clockwork.  PMS loves me and has since I was 11.  It used to love me for 11 or 12 straight days - and has always been less of a flow and more of a series of class 6 rapids.  So, naturally, when it didn't hunt me down and pulverize me on or before expectation, I was nervous.  I realize that I'm speaking in the past tense - but, fear not [well, fear a little], the saga does continue.  But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday.  I exercised, even though I sort of felt like I shouldn't.  And I obsessed.  Addooorrrable Husband and I went out for some Italian/Greek food at a local dive and had a blast, like always.  We don't go out a lot at night anymore [since we're on a me-not-technically-working-induced budget], so we were feeling sorta liberated in a slaphappy silly kinda way.  We were both really trying to handle the possibility of a bun in the oven as casually as possible - just in case I was - and just in case I wasn't.  Neither of us had decided what to think - we were just feeling teenager-ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of the teen years, you should have seen us giggle and stumble our way through the grocery store, eventually finding the Family Planning Aisle.  Whoa.  It was sort of like buying condoms for the first time.  Not because we were embarrassed to be looking for a pregnancy test thingie - but just because I guess the weirdness of first time condom buying was the only comparable experience from which either of us could pull.  It was pretty hilarious.  So, of course, I try to be extra chill about it - like it's totally normal and not weird or embarrassing at all [which it's not].  AH's instinct was to, like &lt;a href="http://www.tv.com/dawsons-creek/homecoming/episode/2844/trivia.html"&gt;Little Dawson Leery&lt;/a&gt;, throw something else in the cart.  "The something?" you ask: fruit roll-ups. Classic. And, if it's not obvious enough, not at all mature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we got home, I peed on the stick - it was all very surreal.  Negative.  We've all heard the story a thousand times: Girl doesn't want to get pregnant. Girl takes a pregnancy test. Test is negative. Girl is not pregnant.  Girl realizes she wishes she was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I've heard it, too. But that girl is not me. I'm a little bit sad - I mean I really feel like this would have been a happy - and actually very well-timed - accident.  But, I'm happy, too.  Our behavior in the grocery store painted a picture that wasn't exactly parental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was honestly shocked that the "stick" only showed one blue line.  And the aftershock continues.  I still don't have my period.  So it's like my internal clock is completely off.  I'm all screwey.  I just feel weird.  I keep thinking "I'd better run to the bathroom - I think I just got it."  But then, nothing.  Now, today, I nearly cried when Principal Green walked the student-lined halls of Capeside High and exited forever.  Sniff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KMac [a good friend] thinks I worried my period away.  That stress has staved it off.  I don't buy it.  Like I said, it's not like me to miss a period, much less spend a full month upright and pain-free.  BFF thinks all this exercising has snuffed out its August rotation.  Hmmm.  Either way, I'm all weird in the head and confused, in general.  I almost want KMac and BFF to be wrong and for the next pee pee test to come back positive. Weird, right? Maybe I'm just hungry for drama.  I also hope they're right - then I could continue my weight loss attempt and focus all of my energy on this business of mine.  Hmmm.  Maybe that's it - maybe pregnancy would be an easy way out.  A convenient, happy, and irreversible way to let myself off the hook.  I don't know.  I'm confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At what point do I take another test?  And when do I make a doctor's appointment? Or is the exercising the culprit? Maybe this requires no action. What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright - Friday's stats...I promise less period talk from here on out.  My playlist was, as always, REM and Counting Crows and REM-heavy - but also actually pretty heavily ass-oriented.  Have you ever &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;listened&lt;/span&gt; to Outkast's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Roses&lt;/span&gt;?  It's about a mean superficial girl and it goes a little something like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you like to thaaaaank&lt;br /&gt;your shit don't staaaaaaaank.&lt;br /&gt;But lean a little bit closer&lt;br /&gt;and your roses really smell like poo-poo-ooo-ooh.&lt;br /&gt;Poo-poo-ooo-ooh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. Hot &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AND&lt;/span&gt; classy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight:&lt;/span&gt; 163.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed:&lt;/span&gt; 2 bottles, one glass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout:&lt;/span&gt; 1 hour on the elliptical&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basket Case  [Green Day]&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Potter's Lullaby  [Counting Crows]&lt;br /&gt;Give Me Novocaine  [Green Day]&lt;br /&gt;The Real Slim Shady  [Eminem]&lt;br /&gt;Cheeseburger in Paradise  [Jimmy Buffett]&lt;br /&gt;Turn You Inside-Out  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;You Are The Everything  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;Two Princes  [Spin Doctors]&lt;br /&gt;Baby Got Back  [Sir Mix A Lot]&lt;br /&gt;Magical Mystery Tour  [Beatles]&lt;br /&gt;Roses  [Outkast]&lt;br /&gt;Pop Song 89  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;Half A World Away  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;Pop Song 89  [REM - acoustic]&lt;br /&gt;Long View  [Green Day]&lt;br /&gt;Rain King  [Counting Crows]&lt;br /&gt;Sweet Home Alabama  [cover by Counting Crows - sounds a lot less confederate when they sing  it]&lt;br /&gt;Man On The Moon  [REM - orchestral - gorgeous]&lt;br /&gt;Your Song  [Elton John - I need to download the Moulin Rouge version by my boyfriend, Ewan.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-5171749317208129225?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/5171749317208129225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=5171749317208129225' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/5171749317208129225?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/5171749317208129225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/aint-got-no-job-aint-got-shit-to-do.html' title='Ain&apos;t Got No Job. Ain&apos;t Got Shit To Do.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CkUFQH4zfip7ImA9WB5bE04.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-645429113531539941</id><published>2007-08-28T15:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T15:43:31.086-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-28T15:43:31.086-04:00</app:edited><title>Can't Talk Now...</title><content type='html'>...because I'm working! Yes, NoNameCompany may - might - have its first client.  We'll see. I'm not getting too excited yet.  I have so much to tell you - which of course means that there's too much going on to sit and type right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the general idea:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;first client -&lt;/span&gt; maybe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;period -&lt;/span&gt; still MIA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;working out - &lt;/span&gt;i've been dragging myself to the y against my will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;incentive - &lt;/span&gt;i've decided that, if i continue to exercise and make it to the one month [actually 4 week] mark, i'll get a new pair of sneaks. does anyone call them that anymore? i prefer adidas - does anyone have any good suggestions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;milestone -&lt;/span&gt; i've managed to exercise for one day longer than my previous record, which is 3 weeks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;new blog i'm addicted to -&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://gottalose200pounds.blogspot.com/"&gt;Journeying to Lose 200 Pounds&lt;/a&gt;. I have such a girl crush on Chubby Chick. maybe it's 'cause she's in florida and i miss home. whatever the case, she's adorable and you must get behind her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;latest website i'm addicted to&lt;/span&gt; - Instant Domain search, which I've been using to try to think of a name for my business and buy a url.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright - I'm out. More later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-645429113531539941?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/645429113531539941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=645429113531539941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/645429113531539941?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/645429113531539941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/cant-talk-now.html' title='Can&apos;t Talk Now...'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;AkUBSHc5fSp7ImA9WB5UGUU.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-4060822104426073210</id><published>2007-08-24T16:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T16:44:19.925-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-24T16:44:19.925-04:00</app:edited><title>Speaking of Beverages...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://goaledgirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;Goaledgirl&lt;/a&gt; posted this gem in my comments section and I thought it was worth sharing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20285540/"&gt;Can you sip your way to skinny?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, dude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-4060822104426073210?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/4060822104426073210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=4060822104426073210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/4060822104426073210?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/4060822104426073210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/speaking-of-beverages.html' title='Speaking of Beverages...'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CE8ESHw5fyp7ImA9WB5UGUU.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-2255349393532624725</id><published>2007-08-24T13:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T15:13:29.227-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-24T15:13:29.227-04:00</app:edited><title>Knowing Is Half The Battle.</title><content type='html'>It's beverages.  I may not be the most disciplined with food - but I'm starting to realize that it's probably the beverages that have the most potential to do me in.  For the most part, I've removed soda from my diet - except when I eat at restaurants.  Because I haven't been working, restaurant dining is rare.  Still, when I do go out, I only order clear, non-caffeinated drinks - like Sprite, but I can easily down two of them before my meal comes.  My deal with myself requires me to, at the very least, finish one full glass of water before I leave the table.  Either way, the soda isn't helping me get down to 150.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I ever tell you that I used to be completely and utterly addicted to Coca-cola?  And when I say addicted, I'm not really kidding.  My friends used to say I had a coke habit.  I would drink ten or twelve 20 oz bottles of Coke every day.  I loved the stuff - truthfully, I think I still love it, even though I haven't had one since November of 2005. But then I think about how my kidneys used to hurt - and the only thing that made them feel better was, you guessed it, more fizzy high fructose corn syrupy goodness.  Sometimes I still want it more than anything in the whole world.  There were mornings where I'd lie in bed, craving the sound and smell of air escaping from beneath that red twist top - and the nose tingle that comes with the first big sip off of a fresh bottle.  Yep, that's addiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.buttafly.com/starbucks/index.php"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_RAeL8kXSrTk/Rs8pZvk_dJI/AAAAAAAAAbE/_g6Fg3boZ4E/s200/starbucks_oracle.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102342425079149714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, about one month after I had my last Coke [at a football game - it was really watery and gross...a pity] my assistant at the time introduced me to the eggnog chai late.  Mmmmmm.  For a while there, I replaced Coke with eggnog chai - and once the holiday season was over, that turned into vanilla chai.  Of course, I didn't realize it was caffeinated until I was hooked.  Before that time, I'd never even set foot in a Starbucks - and then, all of a sudden, I was keeping them in business.  Around that time, I was working like a dog.  Walks to the Bucks were welcomed diversions - I loved treating my staff to coffee o whatever they wanted.  I sort of think of those times as the best - the times we bonded and made the friendships we still keep today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I quit my job, tall vanilla with whip chais became less and less convenient.  And because I had no cash flow, it seemed really evil to keep spending $20 a week on something silly like that.  But - by that time, I'd already hooked BFF/neighbor on the stuff and she would buy it for me.  Fo my birthday this year, she actually got me 4 big boxes of tazo from a Barnes &amp; Noble and a bottle of vanilla, too, so I could make my true love at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever - all of this babbling leads to one point: I am a sucker for yummy drinks.  I want orange juice right now - or some other sweet drink.  I'm even thinking about running out for a chai.  I think I indulge myself in these drinks, forgetting that they carry lots and lots of calories in their whipped cream toppings and vanilla add-ons.  But they're sooooo good.  Maybe I'll go get one today, or maybe I won't.  I'll try to stay strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to know what your Starbucks order says about you, then &lt;a href="http://www.buttafly.com/starbucks/index.php"&gt;Behold the Oracle.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-2255349393532624725?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/2255349393532624725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=2255349393532624725' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/2255349393532624725?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/2255349393532624725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/knowing-is-half-battle.html' title='Knowing Is Half The Battle.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_RAeL8kXSrTk/Rs8pZvk_dJI/AAAAAAAAAbE/_g6Fg3boZ4E/s72-c/starbucks_oracle.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;A0MFRXc_cCp7ImA9WB5UGU0.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-9046662821073568602</id><published>2007-08-23T17:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T18:50:14.948-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-23T18:50:14.948-04:00</app:edited><title>Is It Too Early to Have A Sweaty Panic Attack?</title><content type='html'>Period Watch 2007 is in full swing - and I have no news to share.  It's Thursday, and I generally start on Wednesdays, although my last one started on a Monday.  I've been bugging AH to try to get him to help me figure out whether or not I have al of my dates right - but he has no concept of time.  Is it possible that I'm a week off and PW2007 didn't need to start until next week?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also - I know nothing about this stuff.  Is it time to freak out?  Look - I wouldn't be upset if this became reality, but I certainly wasn't planning for it. So don't get me wrong.  I've always joked that I'd probably never be ready and that an accident was AH's best bet at kids.  I am so weirded out.  And I have so many worries. The ones pertinent to this blog are, to name a few - Should I still be exercising every day just in case? Or does that even matter? And what about those two drinks I had at a party a while back?  Should I not exercise until I know for sure that there is no surprise bun in the very very trepidacious oven?  And I still feel a little bit PMS-ish in that I have a little aching in m stomach - but it's not constant.  That is probably PMS, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. Enough. I'm making myself nuts and probably for nothing. Blaaaaahhh!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did go to the gym yesterday and took this class called Shuffle &amp; Tone, taught by another tolerable instructor.  Let's call her Baby Mama, since her kid was making mischief in the corner while  she taught the class.  It must have been a slow day at the Y [why won't people go out when it's raining?] because only one other person showed up for the class, which I'm told is popular - and she was probably about 75 years old.  Sadly, she looked a lot better doing the 'shuffling' - which is basically doing all of my step class moves without the step - and she used the same level of weights as I did for the '&amp;amp; tone' portion.  The weird part was that she was totally frail looking!  Wow.  You should've seen her stretching.  It's not like she was super bendy or anything, but all I could think about was how I can only hope I'm so flexible and able when I get to be her age.  And - how adorable - she came wearing full makeup, k-swiss shoes, and scrunch socks over the ankles of what I can only describe as Saved-By-The-Bell-print stirrup pants.  Rock on.  I wish you guys lived near me so I didn't have to go to these classes alone. It would be so much more fun that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's stats are as follows...I don't think I'm going today. I missed Intense Lady's class and I want to hang out with AH tonight.  I know, I suck. But I'm just not in the mood. Plus, I just heated up some yummmmmy edamame and I have a turkey roast in the oven - both, by the way, are from the happiest place on earth: Costco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight: &lt;/span&gt;163.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water:  &lt;/span&gt;2 bottles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout: &lt;/span&gt;Shuffle &amp; Tone [30 minutes cardio, 30 minutes toning with weights] and 30 minutes on the elliptical machine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:  &lt;/span&gt;I accidentally lost my playlist again, but here are the songs I remember that I wanted to tell you about because they were the perfect speed for the elliptical machine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great Beyond  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Wendal  [Arrested Development] - how great is that song?!&lt;br /&gt;Buddy Holly  [Barenaked Ladies covering Weezer]&lt;br /&gt;Wonderwall  [Oasis]&lt;br /&gt;Cannonball  [The Breeders]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-9046662821073568602?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/9046662821073568602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=9046662821073568602' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/9046662821073568602?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/9046662821073568602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/is-it-too-early-to-have-sweaty-panic.html' title='Is It Too Early to Have A Sweaty Panic Attack?'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CUUHQnYzfSp7ImA9WB5UF0g.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-7100421928715638562</id><published>2007-08-21T22:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T23:27:13.885-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-21T23:27:13.885-04:00</app:edited><title>Minor Crisis Averted.</title><content type='html'>I didn't let myself down!  I went to my cute Bench Boogie class - and learned this move that looked and felt like I was dancing a jig.  I think it's called a 16 count L step - but I told Fit &amp; Flabby that I intend to call it "the leprechaun." She enjoys the name and will likely incorporate it into future classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In shocking and appalling news, F&amp;amp;F will no longer be teaching the beginners' classes! Nooo! I totally heart her!  Apparently the Bench Boogie classes have always been taught by a different lady, but she has been on maternity leave for the past few months.  Everyone says she's awesome, but I want my F&amp;F and I want her forever.  I mean - this is the woman who got me into stepping, which is the most entertaining thing I do all week - and saved my heels with her fancy advice.  But, I guess she's helping me set a goal for myself - as soon as I'm advanced enough to take Step Mania, I can have my cute Fit &amp;amp; Flabby back.  Tonight she told me that she's a special ed teacher and that her training really helps her teach fitness classes - because she knows how to handle helping people get the hang of fancy moves without making them feel singled out, yada yada yada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did forget to weigh myself today, which sort of sucks because I had a really good feeling about getting on the scale!  As for Period Watch 2007 - no sign of it yet.  However, we will interrupt regularly scheduled programming should it be spotted speeding down the highway in a white Bronco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing some more reconnecting with old friends tomorrow at the evil evil Starbucks - more on that tomorrow.  I'm getting all dicombobulatey - sorry! One last thing: I need a business name!  There are some listed at right - what do you think?  Please suggest your own, too! I think I want something outer space-ish - but I'm also considering "Lucky 13 Communications."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alight - you've had enough of me! Goodnight!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-7100421928715638562?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/7100421928715638562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=7100421928715638562' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/7100421928715638562?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/7100421928715638562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/minor-crisis-averted.html' title='Minor Crisis Averted.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;AkYARHo7eip7ImA9WB5UF04.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-7829870721644296116</id><published>2007-08-21T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T19:15:45.402-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-21T19:15:45.402-04:00</app:edited><title>Rain Is No Excuse!</title><content type='html'>It's raining.  My class starts in 20 minutes. I'm not dressed and it's raining.  So I shouldn't go, right? No - I should go. That's what you would say.  But I might be late now.  And late is bad.  And I haven't had even one glass of water today.  So I'll be dehydrated and thirsty and late. And wet.  Ok - I'll get up in 5 minutes, throw my clothes on, and drive over there instead of walking.  In five minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-7829870721644296116?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/7829870721644296116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=7829870721644296116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/7829870721644296116?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/7829870721644296116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/rain-i-no-excuse.html' title='Rain Is No Excuse!'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DU8FQnk7fip7ImA9WB5UF08.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-6689805972652839909</id><published>2007-08-21T14:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T16:23:33.706-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-21T16:23:33.706-04:00</app:edited><title>I'm A Big Lazy Slab.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday and Sunday I had to drag myself to the gym and I only made it there each time about an hour before closing. What is up with me? Could it be that only exercising 4 times last week has affected my stride that much?  Maybe I'm PMSy? Who knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which reminds me - this is a big week. This is the week we confirm that I'm not pregnant.  I'm pretty confident that I'm not, but I must admit that - even though I don't think I'm ready to be a mother - there's something pretty exhilarating about the possibility of  something so big happening - and being out of my control...well, I guess it's out of my control now, anyway.  I feel lazy - I slept until noon today. And I'm hungry. Amazing how those symptoms could really point either way. I guess only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really - the laziness.  Today my biggest worry is that my DVR capped the number of episodes of my newest obsession it would save at 5 - even though I am pretty sure I set it to save all episodes.  And the HD Network has been running all of the episodes in order, so I've missed a big chunk.  See how screwed up my priorities are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't want to get you down!  So don't get sucked into my black hole for productivity. I read something a few weeks ago about a sort of 'group think' that happens in blogging communities like ours.  I wish I had a link to the article so you could read it for yourself.  See, apparently, as much as we inspire each other and keep each other motivated, we also have the ability to influence each other negatively.  The article talked a lot about how when one of us blogs about cheating on our diet or skipping a day of exercise and spending it on the couch instead - we actually make it easier for our readers to rationalize taking firm grasp of the remote control or eating a sleeve of oreos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, you know, I've noticed this to be true.  I've heard the call to Fage and considered trying it - even though I hate Greek yogurt. And, after scanning a particular weight loss blog, I got pretty bummed and felt almost helpless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog I read one one occasion - I'm always looking for some new perspective - is somewhat popular, I guess.  It was really blunt and honest - which I'm totally into...but behind the bluntness and the sarcasm was just mean spiritedness.  This woman, a mother, was taking out all of her angst on her kids, her husband, her body, and, well, me, the reader. Now I have no idea whether or not she really means what she writes.  If she does, I don't want to know her.  I'm all about dry humor and spunk - and even quirky negativity - but honesty isn't productive when it's just amplified with modifiers and meant to stun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I can be negative, too - hell - we all can be.  And blogging lets us put our secret thoughts out into the unknown and get a resounding "ditto" from our peers.  That feels good.  It also allows us to catch each other before we fall through the cracks and become just another chubbette who started to change her life, but, ultimately, didn't have the self control to make it happen.  You all know how much one comment can be so gratifying.  It's like - if someone is reading, then my story must be at least a little bit interesting, if not relatable.  Whatever.  Now that I understand the type of responsibility we have to each other - to share and to get our feelings out, but not to unload and berate and mistreat our readers by sucking them into the very hole they're trying to climb out of - I feel better about being more selective about the types of blogs I stick on my blogroll.  Misery loves company - and I refuse to aid or abet it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok - well there's a great big fun post for this afternoon.  Seriously - happy thoughts.  You're all kicking ass and you deserve to be confident and hopeful about what's to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now latergaters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's stats:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight: &lt;/span&gt;164 and holding&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed: &lt;/span&gt;1 bottle - erg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout: &lt;/span&gt;the longest hour I've ever experienced on the elliptical machine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist: &lt;/span&gt;I hit the wrong button and lost the playlist before I could write it down!  But it included some really good songs that had the perfect tempos for exercise...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boom! Shake the Room  [DJ Jazzy Jeff &amp; the Fresh Prince] - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/w/will+smith/boom+shake+the+room_20146965.html"&gt;you've gotta read the lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Mr. Jones  [Counting Crows]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erg - there were so many great songs I wanted you to try out! Ahhh! I'm sure they'll resurface soon and I'll pass them on.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-6689805972652839909?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/6689805972652839909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=6689805972652839909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/6689805972652839909?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/6689805972652839909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/im-big-lazy-slab.html' title='I&apos;m A Big Lazy Slab.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;A0ENRn07eyp7ImA9WB5UFUo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-6084266518872087628</id><published>2007-08-19T20:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T23:14:57.303-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-19T23:14:57.303-04:00</app:edited><title>[Too] Great Expectations.</title><content type='html'>Hrmph. I'm at 164 and holding. I expected it to be worse, actually - it's been a hell of a weekend. As you know, I skipped the Y on Friday and deferred to my badass iron-on t-shirts - and I had two drinks there, which, coupled with sleep deprivation, can't be good for my hotness.  Then I flaked on the Y again yesterday 'cause I slept through my step class AND my hair was still looking too cute to sweat.  Last night we went on a little couples date with BFF to a football game...and I'm so disappointed in myself.  Our stadium put a Johnny Rocket's in...and you know what that means: the awesomest chocolaty chocolate shake with whipped cream and a cherry.  I drank it down so fast [partially because I knew my guilt would get the best of me before I could finish it] that I got sick. Not physically ill, but reeeeally icky feeling. Dare I say it was worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I complain about the scale not moving and my body not changing - and then I go and chug a shake like I haven't eaten in days. But the truth is that I haven't really been holding myself to any kind of diet - which sort of makes me feel like I'm not cheating when I do something like that. I have been trying not to eat dessert [which I'm famous for eating before dinner], but, other than that, I haven't been depriving myself of anything except soda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does AH's theory that pissed me off so much hold any water?  He thinks that, even though I'm eating somewhat the same way I always have, I've started exercising pretty much every day, so I should see some results.  Is that true? Or do I really need to make big dietary changes to do this thang?  I can probably concede a little bit more without feeling starved or deprived. I was just hoping not to have to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fit &amp; Flabby talks a lot about what you should be feeling as you're stretching and moving during her class - and I've learned something pretty valuable that I think is worth sharing. She says that it's really important to make sure your heels get a lot of contact with the floor during workouts - whether you're in a step class or on an elliptical machine - because doing all of that work while you're on your toes [or, rather, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; on your heels] can hurt your calves and even your heels!  And I know she speaks the truth because, for the past year, I've had a decent amount of pain in the bottoms of my heels, my achilles, and in  the muscles on the side of my  right calf above my ankle. So - from now on be heel-conscious! I'm extra aware of it on the elliptical machine now and I think it's making a difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made another change to the elliptical routine, too - which is that I set it on manual and exercise to the beat of the music, so I get  a nice varied workout.  I totally can't fake-jog against the beat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright - here's the rundown. Peace out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight:  &lt;/span&gt;164&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water Consumed:  &lt;/span&gt;2 bottles, 3 glasses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout: &lt;/span&gt;1 hour on elliptical - did a little over 4 miles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist: &lt;/span&gt;Not sure how, but it's pretty Beatles and REM heavy. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday  [DMB]&lt;br /&gt;Crazy  [Britney Spears]&lt;br /&gt;Hello Goodbye  [Beatles]&lt;br /&gt;If It Makes You Happy  [Sheryl Crow]&lt;br /&gt;All You Need Is Love  [Beatles]&lt;br /&gt;When I'm Sixty-four  [Beatles]&lt;br /&gt;The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday  [Beatles] - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so reminds me of Mr. Bean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shoop  [Salt n Pepa]&lt;br /&gt;In My Life  [Beatles]&lt;br /&gt;Boulevard of Broken Dreams  [Green Day]&lt;br /&gt;Little Miss Can't Be Wrong  [Spin Doctors]&lt;br /&gt;Stand  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;It's the End  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;You Can Call Me Al  [Paul Simon] - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually a perfect song to exercise to! try it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unbelievable  [EMF]&lt;br /&gt;What's Up?  [4 Non Blondes]&lt;br /&gt;Let It Be  [Beatles]&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Earl  [Dixie Chicks] - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;walk home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-6084266518872087628?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/6084266518872087628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=6084266518872087628' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/6084266518872087628?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/6084266518872087628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/too-great-expectations.html' title='[Too] Great Expectations.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CUQHRXkzfCp7ImA9WB5UFEo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-2593858208444951409</id><published>2007-08-18T15:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T17:42:14.784-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-18T17:42:14.784-04:00</app:edited><title>Am I Being Unrealistic?</title><content type='html'>Is it unrealistic to hold myself to the standard of posting every day? I feel crappy when I don't do it - but, when I force myself to blog, it's pretty obvious. I get all rambly and uninspired sounding and my posts wind up being boring and, well, not-so-eloquent. Sorry about that, dudes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a fantastic night last night. I went to that friend's going away party - and I must say that I was quite the life of the party [or so I've been told] even though I was sober. I'm not a huge drinker.  I made t-shirts for everyone to wear that had a giant pic of my friend's head on the chest and the word's DON'T GO! right above it - have I mentioned I'm totally crafty?   Anyway, I was really stressed about going to this thing, as you know. I was nervous that I'd see all of the people that were buddies with Voldemort and that I'd feel uncomfortable, etc. - but, it was sort of my coming out party! I talked to a lot of people about the impending launch of my business and got a lot of great advice and contacts! I even made friends with this dude from a presidential campaign I've been trying to work with...suh-weet.  Whatever - the point is that I ventured out of my warm fuzzy husband and doggy-filled cocoon and got back in the mix - and I had FUN. I stayed until 2:30am! I KNOW! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaannnnd I learned to use something that I thought was a disadvantage in my favor.  You see, in this city, in this business, it's all about who you know - and most people are single.  Which means the night time bar scene is where it's at.  Too bad I'm socially retarded, not that obsessed with alcohol or the prospect of being drink, and I've been married since I was a fetus.  Not a great combo when it seems like most guys need to think they have a shot with you in order to keep their attention.  No more! It turns out that, either because we're all getting a little bit older - or that my friend has friends that are nicer than that - being married is actually a plus. I talked to a ton of men who saw me as safe - and, as a result, were honest, real, normal, dorky, and just themselves. Refreshing. And, as it turns out, I am one hell of a wingman. In fact, I got a lot of cards, invites out for bar trivia, and even complements!  Hee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do feel crappy about not having exercised yesterday...or today. I got in so late that I slept through Fit &amp; Flabby's 11am class.  Eeerg. My body doesn't feel as good as usual and I'm scared I'm going to be able to rationalize not exercising tomorrow either - which could trigger a reversion back to my old self. I won't even get into my backward slide into the evil clutches of the Starbucks vanilla chai!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok - off to a football game with AH, BFF and her husband!  Daduhduhduh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-2593858208444951409?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/2593858208444951409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=2593858208444951409' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/2593858208444951409?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/2593858208444951409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/am-i-being-unrealistic.html' title='Am I Being Unrealistic?'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CUQBSHg_cSp7ImA9WB5UFEQ.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-522062063336662268</id><published>2007-08-16T23:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T23:15:59.649-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-18T23:15:59.649-04:00</app:edited><title>On My Way to Dr. Addison Montgomery Shepard-ness</title><content type='html'>First things first. Let's address yesterday's unfinished business...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Hair: &lt;/span&gt;Went to the hair place for a trim and just-a-color-consultation, left slightly more red-headed that when I walked in.  I wasn't committed enough to let the cute black and red stripey lady remove pigment from my locks, so I had her put an all over &lt;a href="http://www.redkencolor.com/redken_difference/color_science.aspx"&gt;demi-permanent rinse thingie&lt;/a&gt; on it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Why is 'thingie' not recognized by Blogger's dictionary?]&lt;/span&gt; It looks ok. It's not dramatically different, but it made my hair darker and shinier with an auburn tint to it.  Maybe next time I'll go a bit more drastic and become a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; fictional vajay-jay surgeon.  I was hoping for a shot of damn-I'm-sexy confidence, but really it's just made me paranoid that it looks like my few grey hairs have conquered the rest and I had to turn to Lady Clairol for help. Oh well. I'll work it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Business: &lt;/span&gt;Lunched with my friend who very wisely advised me to remove my former employer from my vocabulary and start working my connections that are separate from them.  As she pointed out, even if my individual connections are fewer, they are not loaded with emotion like the others. Smart smart lady. The girl who has held my dream job [also arch-nemesis's friend] and I weren't able to touch base for whatever reason. She suggested we talk today, I responded with an ok, and we never set a time. I emailed her today and suggested we try to touch base tomorrow.  Aaaannnnnd the woman I was supposed to meet for dinner yesterday flaked, but we're supposedly getting together tomorrow afternoon. So, not such an eventful day yesterday. I have to admit something ridiculous: I was totally unproductive yesterday because I woke up early fo my haircut and was pooped by 2pm. I know - I'm an idiot. My lethargy only hurts me. I could use my insomnia as an excuse, but I won't go there. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Also, from now on, Arch-nemesis will be referred to as Voldemort. I need to quit thinking about him and calling him by the name of he who shall not be named should, hopefully, remind me not to name him in the first place.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had lunch with my awesome friend that got the job I would have coveted, had I heard it was available. Very fun, but I forgot to talk to him about my business!  He's such  special friend, but he's also best buddies with Voldemort, so I get all weird when I try to broach the subject with him. He actually had the nerve to refer to MyDD and then make sure I knew it was a blog. Seriously? I know effing Jerome. Whatever. Anyway, the point of the story is that Voldemort is throwing him a going away party and my friend wants me to go - which of course, I will.  Obviously, he told Voldemort I should be on the invite list, and so HWSNBN called me. Awkward. Before he could even eek out a verbal invite, he dropped that he got my/our friend the job. What an arse. I told him I'm now a fat cow and I don't have any cute clothes to wear out, so I probably wasn't going to go. He actually had a good solution for me - we could make special t-shirts to wear and then I could just wear jeans with mine, which he knows is totally my thing.  So I'm making them tomorrow.  The cool part is that, as soon as my old co-workers heard I might be going, they got in touch and let me know how excited they were to see me. I miss them! Especially my old assistant, who is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;adorable. &lt;/span&gt;Do I suck because I don't want AH to go with me? He's super shy and I really need to be focused on my game tomorrow night so I can network. How do I tell AH I need to go it alone? To be honest, I'm pretty concerned that 'll come home from the party and be sucked back into Voldemort's little world [even more than this post already suggests] and will feel shitty about myself. I do want to be a grown-up and show up to support my friend, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I ran into a dude I met last year and he wants to get lunch with me - and the president of his company who I'm friendly with - soon. See? I have contacts! Plus, one of my favorite bloggers happens to design Flash banner ads and one of my big obstacles is finding artists to build my ads. It's like all of the elements are right there, I just need to focus them. AH inadvertently reminded me that there is a lot of process and procedure stuff I can spend this time organizing. AAAaannnnd I still need a name for my business. I thought about calling my little cartoon character Internet Girl - but internetgirl.com is taken. I could buy myinternetgirl.com - but does that sound like porn?  I could also do Internet Rockstar with myinternetrockstar.com. I wanted to buy yourock.com, but apparently it could cost between $7k and $14k.  Girlandalaptop is also available. So what do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The rest: &lt;/span&gt;I'm tired and I'm probably boring you. So I'll just forget about the rest of the stuff I wanted to tell you yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Today: &lt;/span&gt;What do you guys wear to exercise? Today I wore a pair of tight black stretchy capri pants - I so prefer them to shorts 'cause  they don't creep up and they are totally chub-rub free. But I notice that, when I leave the house, I look sort of sucked in and solid...and, by the time I'm finished with my workout, I'm popping out all over the place and you can see where my undies cur into me. Hot look, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ventured outside the realm of Bench Boogie today and tried the ever so intermediate Step Interval class. Whoa. A lot of my classes lately have been incorporating weights, bands, and ab work. Do you think that's why I'm not losing any weight? I've been fluctuating between 163.5 and 166 - and, as of today, I'm right where I started at 165. Is that weird? I'm really trying. Today is the 2 week anniversary of &lt;a href="http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/genesis.html"&gt;the manifesto&lt;/a&gt; and I don't have anything physical to show for it yet. I was hoping the YMCA gods would throw me a bone, but I'll be patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but be a little bit neurotic about the weight thing - for a really scary reason. I went off the pill a few months ago because I've always been on the pill and I've never had what one might call and active libido. Plus, I thought going off of it might help me drop a couple of pounds. It seemed like a good idea to avoid putting hormone-ish stuff in my body if I could - I mean, hell, it's not like I was having a ton of sex. But now, whether it's because I'm off the pill or the placebo effect, I think I'm a little friskier than usual. Speaking frankly, I think I've had more sex in the past two weeks that I have during the rest of 2007.  Hmmm...maybe the exercise is helping, too.  Anyway, I digress. My original point is that I'm a little nervous I could be pregnant.  I mean I seriously doubt it. My neurosis led me to do a little research and it looks like, even if you get a little unprotected action during [what amounts to about a week of] days when you're "more fertile," you still only have about a 10%-15% chance of getting preggers.  But, seeing as how I'm new to this, I am stressing a little bit. Especially when I'm doing crunches.  I'm sure I'm in the clear, but still. And just to clarify, it wouldn't be a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bad&lt;/span&gt; thing to be pregnant, it just wouldn't be a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;planned&lt;/span&gt; thing.  To be honest, I'm entirely freaked out by pregnancy. It's the whole pod person/x-files angle that gets me all weirded. I'm sure it'll make sense to be someday - maybe even soon - but, for now, it remains a weird and squishy-seeming enigma. But I must admit that part of the reason I want to lose weight is to prepare for the day when I do want to squeeze one out. I'd like to start off as hot as possible so that I can be a cute pregnant lady instead of one that starts larger than she's like to be and has a hard time getting the baby weight off 'cause she started in a deficit. So many of my favorite bloggers are stuck in that situation and I'm doing my best to learn from those women I've come to respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. I get that I'm rambling and I've probably lost most of you. I'll shut up in a sec and go to sleep - but before I go - tomorrow's goals are:&lt;br /&gt;*Talk to Voldemort's friend on the phone&lt;br /&gt;*Set a time and place to finally meet up with Connected Dog Park Friend&lt;br /&gt;*Make t-shirts for friend's party&lt;br /&gt;*Go to friend's party - be confident - network the hell out of it, and leave with my head held high, not letting Voldemort steal my thunder or get in my head&lt;br /&gt;*Start organizing all of my contacts and make a to-do list for my business&lt;br /&gt;*Exercise!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight: &lt;/span&gt;165&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout: &lt;/span&gt;1 hour Step Interval class with weights and bands&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water: &lt;/span&gt;2 bottles, 2 glasses [still thirsty, though!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist: &lt;/span&gt;Intense-to-the-point-of-ignoring-the-people-in-her-class Woman's mix. Mostly stuff like Don MacLean's American Pie with some crazy bass under it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night! Hopefully I'll be more interesting and less babble-icious tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-522062063336662268?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/522062063336662268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=522062063336662268' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/522062063336662268?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/522062063336662268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/on-my-way-to-dr-addison-mongomery.html' title='On My Way to Dr. Addison Montgomery Shepard-ness'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DUEBQXs6cCp7ImA9WB5UEUk.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-6369385474476016045</id><published>2007-08-14T22:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T23:14:10.518-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-14T23:14:10.518-04:00</app:edited><title>Mambo Chai-chai-chai.</title><content type='html'>I'm back from my step class where I desperately tried to "mambo cha-cha-cha" off the Starbucks grande vanilla with whip light ice chai latte I savored earlier today. I haven't been very strong this week so far. Today I indulged in the aforementioned chai [my true love] and 2 bite-sized rugaleh - and I didn't eat dinner until like 9:15, after my class. I really am trying, though! I'm getting good at my step classes! I think I might be *this close* to ready for the intermediate class. We'll see when I get up the nerve to try it! Maybe I ought to try raising the bench up a little bit in the beginners' class before taking the next - er - step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More tomorrow - there's business stuff, my latest neuroses, what I heard about group-think on blogs, my haircut and dye consultation - and I got the scoop on G. Turns out he has a not-so-fan club. Later dudes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's stats:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight: &lt;/span&gt;163.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed: &lt;/span&gt;3 bottles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout: &lt;/span&gt;75 minute Bench Boogie class, which had a good ab workout at the end&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:  &lt;/span&gt;Some icky workout soundtrack that cute Fit &amp;amp; Flabby brought today. She uses cassette tapes - how adorable is she? I have such a girl crush on her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - P.S. - Lady T: I was totally thinking of you during the ab workout today! I stared at a spot on the ceiling, just like you said! - and I got through it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-6369385474476016045?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/6369385474476016045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=6369385474476016045' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/6369385474476016045?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/6369385474476016045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/mambo-chai-chai-chai.html' title='Mambo Chai-chai-chai.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DEQHRHk6fSp7ImA9WB5UEUw.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-5511870395104015939</id><published>2007-08-14T11:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:32:15.715-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-14T14:32:15.715-04:00</app:edited><title>Officially On A No Genitalia Diet.</title><content type='html'>Oh - something crazy happened yesterday and I forgot to tell you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me start by saying: Oh my god - what have I done?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dog and I went out for an innocent walk yesterday afternoon and, just as we got down to one of the cute little parks near our house, I heard someone screaming his name from about 1 block behind us. Turns out it was a rather overzealous neighbor yelling at the top of her lungs with the hope that we'd turn around and go hang out with she and her dog in her yard. Sounds cute, right? It would be except that I really don't know this woman. She's really nice, though - she's a flight attendant - and her cool dog's name is Bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_RAeL8kXSrTk/RsERT4R6duI/AAAAAAAAAak/JBaSFkXWsbM/s1600-h/bullysticks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_RAeL8kXSrTk/RsERT4R6duI/AAAAAAAAAak/JBaSFkXWsbM/s200/bullysticks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098375286382819042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Whatever - the point of this back story is that Nice Flight Attendant Lady gave doggy lots of treats and yummy things to eat - so nice of her. Then she brings out this long beef-jerky-looking thing called a bully stick, which she says is Bear's favorite thing ever, and tosses it to my doggy, letting me know that it's all beef, digestible, blah blah blah, etc. As he begins to chew the heck out of it, she laughs and says, "Can you believe our guys love bull penises so much?!" Gulp. "What?" I ask. "Stores actually package and sell bull penises?" Gulp again. To make a long-ish story short, my sweet puppy ate a penis today. And he loved it so much that he smiled for about an hour after he polished it off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is: Puppy, if you ever learn English and read this, I am so sorry. You are a good good boy and you trust me to pick your food out for you. You did not deserve to eat a bull peep without being consulted first. In other words, sorry, dude. Sucks to be you. In the future, I'll try my best to keep strangers from inviting you in and giving you anatomical treats without my permission.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-5511870395104015939?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/5511870395104015939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=5511870395104015939' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/5511870395104015939?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/5511870395104015939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/officially-on-no-genitalia-diet.html' title='Officially On A No Genitalia Diet.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_RAeL8kXSrTk/RsERT4R6duI/AAAAAAAAAak/JBaSFkXWsbM/s72-c/bullysticks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;D04CSXk_fSp7ImA9WB5UEU0.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-7869458955367390991</id><published>2007-08-14T10:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T11:39:28.745-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-14T11:39:28.745-04:00</app:edited><title>G Stands for Grrrrrrr!</title><content type='html'>G sucks. I waited all day yesterday to exercise because I was excited for G's 6:30 Jump &amp; Pump [jump roping] class.  As usual, he showed up 15 minutes late and I was the only one waiting. Seriously - I think he must want he class to be canceled because he consistently shows up 15 minutes late, making it look like the class isn't meeting. Then, he [too] casually walks by to "see if anyone has shown up" for the class. Of course they haven't! Even if someone was interested in trying the class, they'd show up to find an empty room with no instructor - and they wouldn't be able to find anyone in the building who'd ever seen the class take place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, once he shows up, he says he'll be right back - 10 minutes later, he shows back up and says he's ready to instruct me. Then he says that he won't be jumping because he wants to go for a run afterward and he needs to take it easy on his knees. I told him not to bother. It would be no fun to have a one-on-one class and that I'd rather just use the elliptical machine.  He followed me into the room with the ellipticals and kept blabbering, obviously feeling guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, I was just pissed that, by the time I was able to conclude that I should just exercise on my own, it was 7 p.m. - which means the Y was busy and all of the machines were tied up - so it was 7:15 before I could even start on the elliptical. Meanwhile, AH was probably home from work - and we get such little time together on weekdays. Grrrr.  Before he left, I asked G what I could do to lose weight since, even though it's early, I haven't seen any results. He said I should be doing an hour of cardio, not 30 minutes. Do you think he's right? Or is he just a shitty trainer that is too lazy to really think about it unless I pay him? Whatever. He sucks. I started my hour on the elliptical, only to have one of the ear buds on my ipod break. So now I'm pissy, I'm feeling impatient - I've waited for 45 minutes to start my routine, my husband and dog are at home having fun without me, and I've still got an hour of exercising in front of me - with only one ear of my headphones working. EEEEErrrrrrg.  I had to give up on playing music and just watched the little built-in tv on the machine instead. Am I angsty, or what?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing the elliptical for an hour wasn't that bad. To be honest, I'm not sure how I wasn't even winded at the end. The controls said I'd done 5.6 miles, but I felt fine. My feet just hurt like I'd been standing for a long time. I don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I need to go buy new headphones and try to unfrustrate [I know that's not a real verb] myself enough to keep getting back on the horse.  You know, it just goes to show that I really rely on the staff of the Y. I don't really need them to keep me motivated, but I do need them to NOT turn me off.  I am so done with G. He is irresponsible and sucky. I no longer have any guilt about wanting to work with a different trainer. If I do decide to pay for a personal trainer, I'll have no problem blowing him off for someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I wanted to make this week all about my business. I've called and emailed a few people who are animators and creatives, in general. I still need a name for the little superhero version of me.  I've got a phone call with that girl who I think is friends with my nemesis on Thursday, dinner with a friend who has an idea for me and who is seriously connected tomorrow night, lunch sometime this week with a good friend/former sales rep of mine who wants to help, and - most importantly - a haircut tomorrow morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I haven't been working, it's been a LONG time since I did something for myself. I used to try to get a manicure or pedicure every now and then, but I just feel like that's a frivolous expense for someone who isn't bringing in any cash. But this haircut is totally necessary! I have done zero personal maintenance for like 9 months and I look like a witch with my mangled ends! The cool part is that the person cutting my hair is the color specialist - and I've never dyed my hair before, but I'm going to ask for her opinion about what color I could get away with, should I want to try it. I'd &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; to be a redhead.  I'm thinking I want her to tell me whether or not I can pull off the Dr. Addison Montgomery Shepard look.  True, I have brown eyes, but you never know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are yesterday's stats:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight:&lt;/span&gt; 166 [what i happening?!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed: &lt;/span&gt;3 bottles, 2 small glasses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout:  &lt;/span&gt;20 minute dog walk, 1 hour on elliptical&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:  &lt;/span&gt;I watched Seinfeld and The Simpsons since my headphones broke:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-7869458955367390991?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/7869458955367390991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=7869458955367390991' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/7869458955367390991?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/7869458955367390991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/g-stands-for-grrrrrrr.html' title='G Stands for Grrrrrrr!'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CkMDQH08fCp7ImA9WB5VGEQ.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-91558509511352292</id><published>2007-08-11T23:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T23:47:51.374-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-11T23:47:51.374-04:00</app:edited><title>It WAS Too Good To Be True.</title><content type='html'>Yep - the poundage has jumped back up again. No stress - I got a little too excited over progress that seemed a bit easy in showing itself. I knew it, too, but I so hoped! Oh well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also need to, with my tail between my legs, admit that yesterday's hissyfit smacked me right in the face this morning. And even though I think my frustration with AH is totally valid, he woke me up this morning with a sweet massage and then hugged me huge in bed and in the kitchen - while making me an orange julius. A little [read: a lot] late, but sooner than never. Maybe I willed it into being. Either way, just thought you should know that I suck. The guilt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning - actually the whole day - has been pretty sweet. I woke up to said massage, followed by stinky warm licks from Giant Puppy, who AH let up into to bed with us [for the first time - it was so cute! He's so big and he came right over to me and assumed the spoon position...but I think we've gotta stay strong in the future and make him keep all four feet planted].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After sucking down said orange julius so quickly my straw almost turned me inside out, I was off to the Y for my 11:05 Bench Boogie class.  The instructor was cool - very different from cute Fit &amp; Flabby who has taught the other 2 step classes I've audited. And she was totally missing 3 fingers on her left hand! Crazy! She seemed really strong and confident and cool - so I asked her if she does any personal training. Unfortunately, that's a negative, Ghostrider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird - that whole part of the day now seems so distant! Since then, AH and I washed our cars - and our neighbor's car! - together, watched Jeopardy, went out for margaritas with BFF and her hubby and babies, hauled the 8 of us [2 of us, 2 of BFF &amp;amp; hubby, 2 babies, and 2 dogs] to the awesome dog park with rocks and water, showered with AH [I know - scandalous!], totally got it on [which is becoming less rare than it used to be], and watched pre-season football. Life is pretty darned good, regardless of the wretched sunburn I got on my back from the whole car washing adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems like I keep starting my posts so late at night that, by the time I figure out what it was I wanted to tell you, I need to shut the shiny new mac down for the evening. Raaah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later gators. I'll see you here tomorrow, but I can promise something at least somewhat thought-provoking by Monday afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight:&lt;/span&gt; 164.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed today: &lt;/span&gt;5 bottles and/or glasses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout:&lt;/span&gt; 45 minute Bench Boogie class, 30 minute Core &amp; Stretch class [which actually incorporated weights and stuff, too]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:&lt;/span&gt; Weak! Cool Lady With 2 Fingers On Her Hand picked a lousy set - AND it played pretty softly. I like it LOUD and crazy! Maybe CLW2FOHH should peruse G's chick music stash!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-91558509511352292?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/91558509511352292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=91558509511352292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/91558509511352292?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/91558509511352292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/it-was-too-good-to-be-true.html' title='It WAS Too Good To Be True.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkADR34yeip7ImA9WB5VGE0.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-5871102262100130533</id><published>2007-08-10T22:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T23:59:36.092-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-10T23:59:36.092-04:00</app:edited><title>Wait - How Much Does An iPod Shuffle Weigh?</title><content type='html'>I almost let myself get away without exercising today. I totally loafed around [I get that that's an outdated phrase, but 'loaf' is such a perfect word to describe me in the mornings. I guess 'slab' would work, too, but I don't think it qualifies as a verb.] But, I totally came through for myself in the end, so that's good news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get tot the gym until like 7:30 tonight. Maybe it was a subconsciously purposeful maneuver - as, every day I've been to the Y so far, I've peeked through the windows on the way in to find the construction papered walls of what is one of what I assume are many rooms used for all of the neighborhood kids' summer activities. And here I am in my 1992 JCC Hoops t-shirt - a rival camper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to weigh myself yesterday, which was coincidentally the same day my best buddy/neighbor told me it looked like I'd shed a pound or two. The first place I lose weight is in my face [the last place I put it on], and I did kinda think I could see my cheekbones, but I didn't want to get ahead of myself.  After passing through enemy camper territory [sorry, totally in JCC color wars mode now - go blue team!] I tossed my stuff in a locker and walked toward the scale, when I suddenly had the thought, "Crikey. Maybe the scale said I lost half a pound yesterday because I weighed myself &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before&lt;/span&gt; I put my iPod and armband holder thingie on!" [Yes, when I talk to myself I often end sentences in prepositions.] I think I did - it was 100 degrees here yesterday, so I drove instead of walked, which means I couldn't have had my earbuds in upon arrival. So, I weighed myself again today &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;without&lt;/span&gt; the iPod, which, in retrospect, was stupid because it's a pain to take it off and I walk more days than I drive. Whatever. This is boring. I'll move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, it looks like I lost another pound over night. This seems weird, doesn't it? I mean I get that I've really resolved to do it this time, but it seems a little too good to be true. A pound and a half in a week? Hmmmm. Maybe it's really hot so I'm dehydrated and I've lost water weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the poundage, I'm really feeling good. I feel like my hair is even shinier. Am I psycho? And tonight, I miraculously accomplished 3 miles on the elliptical in the amount of time I've been able to do only 2 miles until now...and I wasn't out of breath at the end. I think it was magic! Maybe the granola bar I ate just before I left the house gave me a surge of energy? When I swam for like 2 or 3 weeks, there were days where I could do double my goal number of laps without a problem. I think there's a direct correlation between where I am psychologically and how much I'm able to do physically. Whatever - I will not look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course, when I got home, what'd I do? - I ate pizza. Which brings me to my next point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BFF [that's what I'll call my neighbor and best bud from now on] and I have had a few convos about how, although our husbands are who we love and are meant to be with, we have to rely on ourselves, more often than not, to pull ourselves out of bad moods and other such funks.  We always know just what to say and do to help them when they need to lean on us, but they just haven't figured it out [...yet, we hope], even if it's obvious they're trying.  For example, tonight, my husband wanted to order a pizza since we're totally out of groceries. I agreed because I want him to have what he wants, it would show up at our door as soon as I got back from the gym, and because I haven't begun to hold myself to any sort of real diet.  I said to him, "I guess it's sort of silly to go to the gym and then follow it up with a couple of slices of pizza..." What I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wish &lt;/span&gt;he'd said was "You know what, you're really exercising and stuff - I'll find something a little bit healthier to order while you go work out." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Instead, &lt;/span&gt;he said "Well, it's&lt;br /&gt;better than just eating the pizza and not going to the gym." Atta boy. Wave that pom pom for me. I don't even think he realizes what he's doing.  Another thing driving me crazy - he has complained about his back or feet or insert-your-favorite-body-part-here being sore all week. Are you kidding me? I'm busting my ass [literally, see &lt;a href="http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/rip-va-jay-jay.html"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/a&gt;] every day - and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sore!  This is a man who would do anything for me, yet doesn't have the sense to do the one thing I [and I think all women] love: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;massage me, dammit!  &lt;/span&gt;He could get in my pants way more often if he would just devote like 5 minutes of his full attention - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and BOTH hands &lt;/span&gt;- every now and then to a yummy back rub. I deserve it. I know, I know - He's not a mind reader. I could just tell him what I want. And I do - but it's like how much cooler would it be if he just knew to do it? Hell, I know what to do for him as though &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; reading &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; mind! I mean, aside from making me super happy,  how does he not get that non-sexual physical intimacy also has a decent chance of getting me in the sack?! HEL-LO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Note: AH just informed me that he bought me a brownie and a pint of my favorite flavor of ice cream. Sweet, but ugh. Oh, and he is taking great pride in the fact that he, unsolicited, put the pizza away - in ziplocs, instead of how he usually does it: by cramming the whole stinky cardboard box up on the first refrigerator shelf, blocking the light. I know I'm supposed to be bitching about AH, but seriously - it's pretty cute. He gets this giant grin on his face that reminds me of a kid who is super proud of his latest crayon masterpiece on the living room wall.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lots more stuff to tell you - about my business and my new found social life and even what I'm learning about my body and preferences while working out - but it's getting late and I want to hang out with AH before he falls asleep! So, I'll end tonight's post by letting you know that this blog - and your comments - are really helping me. I can't believe I'm actually doing this.  I love having this forum to vent and have someone to talk to - even if no one I know - or no one at all - reads. I love reading other people's blogs and identifying - I am so impressed by the smart, witty articulate women I've encountered so far. It's like how I feel so comforted when BFF and I talk and I realize that our marriages have a lot in common. The point of everything I've said here tonight is that, even if AH can't say or even figure out what I need to hear, this blog and its few readers can and do...which is nice, because now I don't have to rely on myself alone to stay upbeat and motivated while I try to accomplish my weigh loss goal. So thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight: &lt;/span&gt;163.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed so far:&lt;/span&gt; 3 bottles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout:&lt;/span&gt; 30 minutes on the elliptical machine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big Yellow Taxi [Counting Crows] - walk to the Y&lt;br /&gt;Seven Nation Army [White Stripes] - this has become my march to war!&lt;br /&gt;You Give Love A Bad Name [Bon Jovi]&lt;br /&gt;Fruitcakes [Jimmy Buffett]&lt;br /&gt;Landslide [Smashing Pumpkins]&lt;br /&gt;Imagine [Beatles] - way too slow, but I can't skip it! most important song. ever.&lt;br /&gt;Son of a Son of a Sailor [Jimmy Buffett]&lt;br /&gt;For the Longest Time [Billy Joel]&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Jones [Counting Crows] - cool down walk&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-5871102262100130533?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/5871102262100130533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=5871102262100130533' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/5871102262100130533?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/5871102262100130533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/wait-how-much-does-ipod-shuffle-weigh.html' title='Wait - How Much Does An iPod Shuffle Weigh?'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkIHSHw7cSp7ImA9WB5VF0w.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-7942476855150503598</id><published>2007-08-09T21:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T22:55:39.209-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-09T22:55:39.209-04:00</app:edited><title>Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I don't know exactly why, but today was a pretty motivated creative-juices-flowing sort of day. Maybe it's the new Mac, maybe it's this business idea I have [even though it's the same business I've been thinking about forever, this new way of presenting it using my personality really has me excited], or maybe it's all of the nice comments from the &lt;a href="http://ccclessofme.blogspot.com/"&gt;CCC&lt;/a&gt;s and &lt;a href="http://2whommuchisgiven.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lady T&lt;/a&gt;s of the world. Whatever it is, it feels good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, it seems like lots of good stuff is happening to people that mean a lot to me: My good friend got that awesome job [even if I'm a teeny bit jealous], I think I just got one of my favorite people ever one step closer to getting her dream job, my best buddy's baby boy just took his first steps and his twin sister is right behind him, a dear friend just found out his wife's pregnant, I have a dinner meeting set up with my dog park friend to discuss my business and an idea she has, I made positive first contact with the woman whose brain I want to pick [the one who is friends with my nemesis], I finally called an old friend that I never see and we agreed to get together for the first time in like a year [he is my muse], aaaAAAAAaaaand - as if that's not enough - TBS's weekday morning reruns of Dawson's Creek are finally getting to the Pacey Hearts Joey Era, which makes me more happy than is reasonable for a grown-up. [deep breath]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I feel good right now. Exercising today was really realy hard. I took this class at the Y called Total Fitness, which is run by G, a trainer with whom I have a little bit of history.  A few months ago, I thought I was going to start going to the Y regularly, so I made an appointment with a trainer [G] to ask how I could be most productive in reaching my fitness goals. He advised me to jump rope every day for like 10 minutes and swim laps for half an hour - adding 10 trips up and down the stairs if I felt like it. He and I established a little rapport at that meeting - we chatted for a long time. He said to come and see him after one month of this. Weird part - he told me that a lot of guys probably like what I have and that, if he were my husband, he would want me to keep it. Uhhhh, uummkay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started on my little program and he started a jump roping class, which I attended once.  Although it was REALLY hard and I thought I might die, I powered through it and - even though I got really sweaty and could barely breathe by the end, I really liked the challenge of doing different kinds of jumps [crossing the rope, switching feet, etc.] - it takes coordination, which is about the only strength of mine that pertains.  I was totally impressed with myself for learning the "Ali Shuffle," which means every time your feet hit the floor, you let one of them touch down normally and one of your feet touch down with your heel only.  When the Y made new summer class schedules about 3 weeks into my new routine, I noticed that the class was no longer free - they were going to charge me $5 per class [$20 more dollars a month] on top of my $70/mo membership fee to attend! Recognizing that as absolute bullshit, especially since I even had my own jump rope, I used my boycott and "stand against The Man" as my last excuse to quit goig to the Y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm back. As a side note, I met a dude at the dog park who is on the board of the Y. I complained to him that it cost $5 just to jump rope fo 20 minutes and now, wouldn't you know, it's free again!  So on Monday, I tried to go to G's Jump &amp; Pump class, for which he apparently never showed, and wound up breaking my tusch on a stationary bike. After the cycling thing ended, I found G wandering around and busted &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; tusch for not showing and therefore subjecting my cheeks to torture.  After some love/hate banter, he told me I'd better show up at the class I went to today and then pretended to call security to have me removed. He so loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went. First, let me say that I was initially going to ditch the class because I saw two women in it that I know.  They are friends of my neighbor buddy with the twins - each of them has a one-year-old of her own. They are both totally hot and only &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this big&lt;/span&gt; [showing you my pinky] - perfectly toned and tan...and here I am in my ugly Target shorts and a faded t-shirt left over from my days as a disgruntled sorority girl. I looked awful - and I knew that, soon, I'd be flopping around again, doing something I'd never done before, totally out of breath - in front of them. Eeek!  Whatever. I stayed - it was fine. I tried not to be bitter about their thighs. G worked me extra hard. He'd set up different stations around the room for the four of us [me, the two mommies, and this older woman who kept complaining about the heat] - one of which was jump rope - and we were to spend 1 minute at each station. By the time I got to the jump rope station, I was red-faced, sweating like a swine, completely out of breath, and ready to pass out.  But G rode me hard - especially at that station - and even made me jump rope for 2 straight minutes just to be a pain in the ass. How did I respond? After the first minute, I threw his rope on the ground - he was totally shocked - but then I ran over to my bag, grabbed my own awesome jump rope, and told him "if that's how it's gonna be, I'm gonna have to use my awesome rope." Then I started doing the Ali Shuffle, just to piss him off.  We both laughed a lot over that.  He wants me to use him as a personal trainer, but, although we seem to get along, I'm not 100% into his style of coaching. I don't have 100% faith. He's been hounding me about it for a while and I've been telling him I don't have the cash right now.  I feel like I can't sign up with a different trainer because we've developed a relationship and that would upset him - but I'm thinking a trainer might be wise, after all. Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight:&lt;/span&gt; I totally forgot to weigh myself. Duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed so far: &lt;/span&gt;3 bottles - getting better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout:&lt;/span&gt; 1 hour of Total Fitness, including outdoor jogging [in the 100 degree heat], resistance bands, cardio stations [those half ball thingies, trampoline, punching bag, jump rope, a floor ladder thingie we had to jump around in like tires], weights, and stretching&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist: &lt;/span&gt;G picked out some weird techno sounding CD of all female musicians - it's the best instructor disc I've heard yet - it remixed people like Madonna, Destiny's Child, etc. Very surprising choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-7942476855150503598?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/7942476855150503598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=7942476855150503598' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/7942476855150503598?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/7942476855150503598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/float-like-butterfly-sting-like-bee.html' title='Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;DkQBSXw5cSp7ImA9WB5VFko.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-1035836635289808627</id><published>2007-08-09T11:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T11:45:58.229-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-09T11:45:58.229-04:00</app:edited><title>Little Changes - but they feel huge.</title><content type='html'>Ok - here are all of the things going on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First - the other day I was really bummed for two reasons. The first reason was that a friend of mine just got a really awesome job - one that I totally could have gotten myself and that I would have TOTALLY wanted, had I known it was open. I've been sitting on my ass for like 9 months trying to figure out what I want to do professionally - and I would have finally jumped on that opportunity. It just sucks because I'm so out of the loop that I didn't even know the most important organization in my field was looking.  The other reason I was bummed - I was bummed because my FRIEND got a great job.  I'm not a jealous girl and I'm so disappointed in myself for sinking so low. I had to take a few hours to wallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The greater issue here is that I have done absolutely nothing to move forward, work-wise.  So the only person I can be frustrated with is myself. And believe me, I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only good that has come out of this is that I think a teeny fire has been lit under me.  The proof? I am currently blogging from my shiny new Mac Book that's been sitting here, unopened, since May. You know, the one I intended to use to start my business.  Actually, it's a little bit of business inspiration that got me to open it. Well, an idea and a little bit of a plan, really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about starting my own Internet-based business - and I thought of a cool name for it - a perfect name, in fact. The name described the business and would signal my target clients that I was right for them. But it just didn't feel fun...and I left my last job because it was so unfun and icky.  My new idea is to be really quirky and me-ish. I want to create a little cartoon character of me, name her something cool, and then use that name for my business!  So, what should I call her?!  eGirl, WebGal, iGirl, what?!  Help me!!!  I figure that will let me do cute quirky things on my website, like say that things are "brought to you by your friendly neighborhood eGirl" - or whatever. Plus, I could also make a little cartoon version of my dog and call him WonderDog or SuperDog or something like that. What do you think? Should I stay pretty professional? - or quirky?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm going to start exploring possibilities beyond starting my own business. I'm meeting with a friend of mine from the dog park in a few days. She's in my field [but doesn't do Internet stuff] and she says she has a business idea. We'll see where that goes! And, I'm trying to set up a meeting with a woman who held my dream position a few years ago. She's now consulting on her own, so I can pick her brain about the dream job and starting my own company. The trick is, she's a friend of a friend - but also a buddy of my arch-nemesis, so I have to play it cool and make her like me.  Phew! I'm getting a little stressy just thinking about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright - off to the gym. More later!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-1035836635289808627?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/1035836635289808627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=1035836635289808627' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/1035836635289808627?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/1035836635289808627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/little-changes-but-they-feel-huge.html' title='Little Changes - but they feel huge.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CkIHRX88eSp7ImA9WB5VFko.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-5670980867875974582</id><published>2007-08-08T22:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T10:42:14.171-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-09T10:42:14.171-04:00</app:edited><title>Drama!</title><content type='html'>So there were all sorts of police cars at the Y today! We-ird. I heard one officer in the locker room say something about a 2 year old - which sort of freaked me out. But, the Y seems like a safe place, in general - maybe I'll get the dirt from G [a trainer there] tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I had sort of a silly thought: my pets are totally healthy, and they barely move all day long! Forget the fact that I control their calorie intake - they sleep ALLLLL day and are totally slim, muscular and healthy. How much would you love to be a giant 100+ lb. puppy or a teeny 9 lb. cat who stays perfectly lean by sleeping for at least 75% of the day?! A girl can dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's stats now - and the stuff I promised yesterday tomorrow - I promise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight: &lt;/span&gt;164&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed:&lt;/span&gt; 3 bottles [go me!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout: &lt;/span&gt;30 minutes on the elliptical machine, 10 times up &amp; down the stairs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Killing Me Soflty  [The Fugees]&lt;br /&gt;Inside Out  [Eve 6]&lt;br /&gt;Fee  [Phish]&lt;br /&gt;Losing My Religion  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;Spider Man  [The Ramones]&lt;br /&gt;Turn You Inside-Out  [REM]&lt;br /&gt;Two Princes  [Spin Doctors]&lt;br /&gt;Volcano  [Jimmy Buffet]&lt;br /&gt;Folsom Prison Blues  [Johnny Cash]&lt;br /&gt;Seven Nation Army  [The White Stripes]&lt;br /&gt;I Won't Back Down  [Tom Petty]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-5670980867875974582?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/5670980867875974582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=5670980867875974582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/5670980867875974582?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/5670980867875974582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/drama.html' title='Drama!'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;D0UBQ3gzeCp7ImA9WB5VFUk.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2050094135007222802.post-3724069326355018641</id><published>2007-08-07T21:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T23:54:12.680-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2007-08-07T23:54:12.680-04:00</app:edited><title>Ass Still Hurts &amp; Yet I Press On.</title><content type='html'>I'm cranky...what's new, right? So sorry to always be such a Debbie Downer. I promise I'll work on that, for your sake if not mine. Processing a lot this evening, so I'll stick to today's stats and catch you up tomorrow - hopefully with a little bit more perspective and maybe even with a plan to overcome my latest personal bump in the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Weight: &lt;/span&gt;144.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Water consumed so far: &lt;/span&gt;1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Workout:&lt;/span&gt; 75 minute Bench Boogie step class, which included some upper body strength stuff with weights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Playlist: &lt;/span&gt;Instructors cassette, featuring some &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hot&lt;/span&gt; tunes by Cher. Rock on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - My husband just walked in on me blogging and totally saw that I wasn't updating our personal blog, but, instead, a new one of which he was hitherto unaware. Damn. I really wanted to keep this to myself. Even if he doesn't ask me about it or bring it up, I know he'll read it when he gets to work tomorrow. Just him knowing about it makes me feel a little violated, even though he's awesome and doesn't mean any harm. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adorable Husband - if you're reading, please stop now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='http://res1.blogblog.com/tracker/2050094135007222802-3724069326355018641?l=notfatyet.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/3724069326355018641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2050094135007222802&amp;postID=3724069326355018641' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2050094135007222802/posts/default/3724069326355018641?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default/3724069326355018641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notfatyet.blogspot.com/2007/08/ass-still-hurts-yet-i-press-on.html' title='Ass Still Hurts &amp; Yet I Press On.'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry></feed>