12 hours in and I’m still going strong!  Don’t mean to brag but yeah, it’s true.  That’s a lie.  By 10am, I was asking myself why I am doing this.  The hubs’ birthday is tomorrow and I had bought some baked goods from a girl at work.  So all day long, I sat next to a pan of sugary delights.  Didn’t cry once.  Thank you. Thank you very much.

I had left in a rush this morning and…yep, forgot my lunch.  S, of course, was completely prepared with something right out of a Greek kitchen.  It looked delicious.  Lucky for me, my work has a cafeteria so I was able to run down and grab some roasted potatoes and roasted broccoli.  It sustained me for a few hours until my stomach started getting jiggy with it and I had to scarf down my little cup o’fruit I bought and then cracked open some pistachios.

Surviving work time hours on a diet really isn’t my biggest hurdle.  It’s when I get home.  My little sanctuary awaited me.  I threw some steak tips in a skillet and sautéed some zucchini, carrots and broccoli and was a happy camper.  I’m also not feeling water.  I’ve drank a lot of water today but for my dinner I wanted something a little exciting so I broke out a can of LaCroix cranberry carbonated water (Whole 30 approved).  Now, I’ve not had sparkling water in a very long time and I’ll tell you why.  It tastes horrid.  It literally tastes like someone took a cup of salt water, put a cranberry in that cup and the cranberry farted and bam…bubbles and yuck.  But I drank it because I paid for it so I’m drinking it.  Gulp gulp cranberry fart water.

My exercise routine was cut out today because, well, I don’t want to do it.  It’s all my neighbors’ fault.  My neighbors on both sides of me decided to mow and well, I had to mow because if I don’t, people driving down the street are going to see a landscaped mohawk in our neighborhood all because I couldn’t get my ass out there to mow because I’m doing Whole 30 and am weak.  So I mowed, cooked dinner, chopped a crap ton of veggies, threw chicken in a crockpot, did dishes and drank sparkling cranberry fart water.  All in all, I’m doing great!

I have decided to try the Whole 30 program.  For those of you who do not know what Whole 30 is, it is a 30 Day plan with a whole lot of restrictions and you follow it for a whole 30 days.  To learn more, click here:  https://whole30.com/.  It’s designed for you to follow to the letter for 30 days, no cheating, no excuses and no sympathy.  Also, no sugar, no sweeteners, no dairy, no grains, no fun, no hot fudge sundaes, no waffles, ooops, got a little sidetracked there.

A friend told me to journal this process.  However, I’m an overachiever and want to share my pain so I’ve decided to blog it.  I’m also fortunate to have a friend who has decided to do this with me so that I have a support system.

My whole 30 buddy, whom I shall refer to as “S”, is one of those young, blonde, naturally beautiful people.  That type always needs a chubby, sharp tongued brunette sidekick, i.e. me.  S is on fire for Whole 30.  And took on a somewhat sinister demeanor when she told me “you better do this.”  I gotta tell ya, I outweigh S substantially, but I was a little frightened of her when she said that to me.

Today I threw together my Whole 30 shopping list, sat on the couch and pondered what my last sopping fat meal will be that will tie me over for the next 30 days.  I’ve been eating horribly for the past few days to get it out of my system so my fat creativity was shot and all I came up with was a box of this:   

How bad ass, right?  However, I won’t be allowed to indulge in anything in this enchilada for the next 30 days so whatevs.  After spending an hour and a half at the grocery store, walking past aisle after aisle of what I can’t eat, searching for a coconut milk that I can use in my coffee (yeah, I can keep coffee so that I won’t pile up a body count) I finally hit the checkout.  This was after I rounded a corner and ran into a cart piled high with Halloween candy.  Which I will see everyday from now until the end of the month, because let’s face it, I live in the fattest country in the world and that’s how we roll.  Literally, we can roll…especially if you knock us down.

Here is how I foresee the next 30 days:  yelling, crying, wondering why I signed up for this, crying a little more, denial (cauliflower is my friend).

Oh, and Whole 30 expects me to exercise.  Because they wouldn’t be completely sadistic if they didn’t expect you to exercise.  I look forward to sharing this journey with you.  It will be completely honest, uncensored, no holds barred blogging.

What’s the worst diet experience you’ve ever had?

I turned 40 this past week. Wahoo. Yee haw. Pbbbbt. It was just another day. No ruthless fairies came and stole my youth. I didn’t wake up with wrinkles and liver spots. Although, I am bitch slapped by this number every time I have to check the age box on a form…it’s the next category down.

I made it through ok. However, I did issue an Amber Alert for my 30s. Seriously, where in the hell did my 30s go?!?  It seems like it wasn’t long ago that I was refusing to celebrate my 30th birthday. 

Isn’t it funny how age changes us? When I was a kid, I’d eyeroll at the conversations I’d hear my mom having when she’d run into a friend at the store. I thought it would be an eternity before I’d ever worry about the things these “old people” talked about.

Now conversations with my friends consist of worries over heart disease, hormones, retirement funds, and housework.  Throw in my phobia of Alzheimer’s and I’ve just captured the essence of ALL my conversations. 

Now I’m off to meal plan for this week. Meal plan for easy digestion, low sugar, heart friendly meals that won’t break the bank because I really need to save for retirement. 

Ever notice this time of year is when all the rude people in the country mask themselves as shoppers in pursuit of being gift givers?  The hubs and I trekked down to our local mall this weekend to grab some gifts. Let me tell you a little about our “mall”.  Any other time of year, mall walkers outnumber shoppers by a ratio of 27:1. There are approximately 412 empty slots and if it wasn’t for Bath and Body Works, I’m not sure anyone older than 20 would ever go there. Unless to walk.

The hubs and I walked into the mall, I turn around and say “let’s go, I can do Amazon.”  But then I had to pee because these days, I can’t go more than 8 minutes without emptying my bladder. In the time I hit the bathroom and leave, the hubs is steamrolled by a small female mercenary toting a full Rock Band set, I’m leveled by two moms pushing strollers the size of friggin Winnebagos and some douche canoe blocks me from merging into the passing lane to get around him.

We left the mall and stopped at our local health food store. The hubs made healthy purchases. I bought a bar of chocolate.  Organic.  Fats don’t count if they’re organic. The more you know. While there, a lady argued up and down that an employee short changed her. Her argument was idiotic…clearly this woman uses Common Core for her finances. “My total was 5 and I gave you a 20 and a 5.” She finally realized she was given her 20 in return and mumbled it was the holidays. Sans apology.

I came home, spent 3 hours on Amazon and finished my shopping.  And to avoid $55 in overnight shipping charges, I became a member of Amazon prime. Here’s to remembering to cancel in 30 days.

I went to an aerobics class with my friend awhile back. I had ordered some new exercise clothes for my 50th attempt at getting fit. Getting dressed for the class should have been my first warning that all would not go well.

My pants were too big and my shirt, a v neck, veed way too low. Every time I moved, I was either flashing my top half or my bottom half. Then came the exercise ball. This was the last half of class and I was tired so…I thought, I’ll get the HUGE exercise ball because then my ab exercises will be easier. Which would have been true – if we were doing ab exercises. Oh noooo…we’re putting these things between our legs and lifting it over our heads.

I’m on my back, huge exercise ball between my ankles and I’m pretty much wide open when a cramp hits me in the butt cheek. My roly poly body rolls over to one side and I drop the ball. The ball is rolling through the class and as I’m chasing it down, yep, my pants fall down. I yank them up. Now I’m zig zagging through class, one hand holding my pants up, other hand over my v neck shirt, trying to catch this damn exercise ball. I finally get the stupid thing and roll it back to my spot and now we have to sit on top of the ball. This was great, except, my legs don’t reach the freaking floor when I’m mounted atop Mt. Rollopolis. And this is where I roll right off the back of the ball and thud onto the floor. I played dead until cool down. What’s really pathetic is that I fought with a girl for this round mound of death. Should have seen her smirk at me after class.

There is a lesson to be learned from this: let the skinny, twig girl have the huge exercise ball next time!

What’s your most embarrassing exercise story?

Hey.  Whadya know. I herniated another disc. After a trip to the ER and a doctor visit, I think we can nip this in the bud earlier than last time.  I’m thinking positive. 

I’m really frustrated with my body right now. I’ve been exercising.  So what gives? I’m a balls to the wall girl. Tell me to do 10 reps, I’m going to rep it until I can’t rep it anymore. But I was careful this time. I won’t sit here lie back and let it deter me. Once I can get mobile again, I’ll start over.

Am I the only person obsessed with making their house smell good? Of course I know I’m not. Candles and air freshener are a multi billion dollar business. All I want is a home you walk into that smells like fresh baked apple pie and I want it to be from non-toxic, all natural, non sprayable, no need to refill, never ending and cheap sources.

Owning two dogs has made me really paranoid about how our house presents itself in the aromatherapy arena. Does it smell like “oh hang on while I cool down this fresh baked pie” or does it smell like “ooof, is that the smell of fresh baked foot fungus”?

I currently have my Scentsy burner at work, doTERRA homemade air freshener in the bathroom and an apple cinnamon candle in the kitchen. It either smells great or like a Disney film threw up.

Gotta go, the EPA is at my door.

I recently had two of my readers tell me that I need to post more. And to post consistently.  Alright. If I must, I must.

I finally joined a gym. I’ve been swimming and I love it. My bottom half seems to sink quicker than it did 20 years ago. Oh that’s right. My bottom half is bigger.

I’ve been lifting weights. That I do not enjoy. Because every time I get off the weight machine, I have a well embedded wedgie. And then I have to pick it or walk like a penguin to the next machine. Also, some of these arm machines are positioned height wise so that my boobs hang over the arm prop so at first glance, it would appear that I’m there to tone four well defined biceps.

I finally tried the elliptical. I meant to only use it for 5 minutes but used it for 22. Mainly because I couldn’t figure out how the hell to get off of it. That also came with a wedgie. And my feet fell asleep on it. Needless to say I left the workout area walking with my feet plopping flatly on the ground. And also walking like a penguin because at that point I was too freaking tired to pick one more wedgie.

Where the eff have I been? I haven’t posted in forever.  I wish I could say I’ve been really busy traveling the world,  or practicing my Miss America routine or even getting greased up for my next bodybuilding competition but it would be lies…all lies.

I did injure my back and that kind of sucked the joy out of life for about a month. So now I sit here, writing this, trying to talk myself into grocery shopping because I absolutely deplore grocery shopping.

Before I head to the store, I have to stop at the gym. And…buy a membership.  A multitude of factors played into this decision: my back hurting, my knees hurt after taking a flight of stairs, the 80 year old walking past me on the sidewalk last week and my jugs always being in my way.

So here I go. Putting on my big girl pants even though it’s laundry day, I found a pair smashed in the back of the drawer. They’re too small but nothing more will motivate me to head to the gym today like a painful wedgie that only a treadmill can work out of my ass.