Oops, I Did It Again

Many thanks to Children of Bodem for providing a funny, yet perfect cover of this terrible song. Britney Spears has nothing on Metal. Please feel free to give it a listen while you finish reading. Great running/workout song.



I have two topics today.


The gym

I love going to the gym. For most people it is a mean to perfect one’s narcissism. To me, the gym is great comedy. It just so happens a beneficial byproduct is I can go home and pretend I’m in shape. At the gym you get to see all sorts of wild, crazy things. “Chaches” Pronounced: "chawch" are my favorite gym creature. I owe my understanding/mockery of chaches to my buddy David. I’ll defer to his definition of Chach; a Chach is that guy who wears graphic tees, half tucks his shirt into his jeans and wears those hideous Kanye West shades. (For those not totally keen on what graphic tees are, they are t-shirts that have weird hieroglyphic/dragon designs on ½ of the shirt that seem to disappear into the armpit.) I have also included a link to the Urban Dictionary definition of chach.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=chach

When I'm not transfixed by the Justin Bieber (love his hair) video of “Baby, Baby”, there are three chaches working out together at the gym that provide me with some priceless entertainment. Yes… T H E Justin Bieber. I will not apologize for my interest/fascintion in this Disney created phenom. Whenever his video comes on UrbanActivision, the world around me stops. I can’t turn away - he is so talented. Imagine Major Arnold Toht when he opens the Ark of the Covenant.

Getting back to the comedy… The chaches all have guts and are wearing their eminem inspired a-frame (wife-beater) shirts proudly. At 5:30 in the morning they have the Growing Up Gotti/Jersey Shore hairstyles in full effect. Seriously? You dipped into your AXE hair pomade to workout in the wee hours of the morning? If you would spend more time doing sit-ups instead of looking in the mirror at your perfectly coifed girl-hair, you might not have that freakish looking thing reminiscent of Kuato in Total Recall protruding from your midsection. (Total Recall = Great Movie. AHH-Nold is numero uno! As an aside from this tangent, if you have not seen Pumping Iron, rent it. Today. Fabulous.)


5 tips for my friends out there with the XY chromosomes. Those of the fairer sex, feel free to pass these along.

1. Wear a belt. Pant/short wearing without a belt looks ridiculous. You are not 5! You don't have elastic in your waistband. I cannot begin to explain how many times I see this. It has gotton to the point where I feel like petitioning outside the WHO in Geneva to classify this trend as a pandemic.

2. Your shoes and belt should match. We have all played “Go Fish” before. Make it a game. Find your shoes, and fish for the same color belt. Simple.

3. White athletic socks do not go with Dress Pants. EVER!

4. Short-sleeved dress shirts are for Sipowitz. Do not buy them. These shirts are only for overweight NYPD detectives.

5. Hawaiian Shirts are a no-no. Unless you are at a Jimmy Buffett concert, or greeting passengers de-planing in Kahului, do not wear these shirts. Give them to your kids so they can use their poster paints.

And I thought Euros dressed funny.



Until next time… ...if there is a next time. I would like to exit with some inspirational words from Lil' Wayne.

"And I got blind money money you will never see
And only in the mirror is where you'll find a better me
I make money and my fingers make the letter B
I'm very sick, very sicker than you
And when I play sick, I'm Jordan with tha flu"

"One Way Trip" by Lil' Wayne from the Album "Rebirth"


Peace,
B-Weve

!WARNING!

*DO NOT ADJUST YOUR MONITORS*

The blog you have been reading for the last few months (or not been reading due to its owner’s lack of witty/creative ideas for entries…) has been hijacked. If you don’t mind the prose of a left-brained engineer, then keep reading…


…DISCLAIMER…

I just learned to read last week so please bear with me. This writing thing may take some time. I prefer to work with numbers and CAD drawings. For the Jane Eyre/Brontë Sisters crowd, the term “CAD (Computer Aided Design)Drawings” is a fancy way of describing pictures made on a computer. I wanted to use bullet points; but this would have thrown off the liberal arts majors and caused panic. (I pictured in my mind’s eye the simplistic and straightforward structure making their heads explode. “You can’t use symbols to get a point across! You need to spend countless pages trying to explain the intricacies of the color green! How else is someone supposed to know the setting is in Ireland?)

So, without further ado…
What is with the kiosks in the malls? Whatever happened to the benches where men could sit and consume an Auntie Ann’s pretzel and cherry Slurpee while their wives/girlfriends take forever to find and try on items they will never buy? Does anyone else get fully annoyed with the constant pandering/pestering by the associates working these lean-to impersonating shopping stores? Nevermind the shi**y products they push? The phones, lotions, Crocs, hair extensions, hyperbaric chambers made from recycled 55 gallon oil drums, chalk drawings of Eminem, Kurt Cobain, etc... Excellent. Just what I needed; a picture of Tupac and Biggie hugging to put in my living room.

Has anyone else had a run-in with these XTC pill-popping sales associates that work these places?? (Yes, they are run-ins. I don’t intentionally seek out the person(s) trying to sell me something I will never use.) They are like Hyenas after seeing a giraffe go down with a broken leg.


Sales Associate: (More chipper than Danny Kaye dancing in Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas”)

“Sir, can I have a moment of your time?”


Me: (Rolling eyes)

“I guess.”


Sales Associate: (Foaming at the mouth like Old Yeller)

“Would you like to have the most soft, supple hands on the planet while simultaneously reducing your cuticles?”


Me: (Blank Stare)


Sales Associate: (Taking my hand and trying to rub lotion over it with a perma-grin à la Jack Nicholson’s “The Joker”)

“With our patented formula of ground up cow intestines, aloe and spider monkey dung, your skin can be as soft as cashmere! Wouldn’t that be AWESOME?”


Me: (Responding like Brad Garrett with an annoyed look on face)

“Sure”


Sales Associate: (Almost to Jenna Jameson time)

“With this lotion you not only will have the softest skin around, but you’ll be helping employ third world children while increasing your self-confidence!”


Me: (Wishing I were being bull-whipped and then forced to wear a cilice - I would like to thank my Catholic School Education for that word)

“I’ll bet. Thanks.”



Sure, I would just love to have no cuticles. It’s right up there with wearing guy-liner. Queue Gob Bluth. "C’mon!" Seriously, I am a dude. Only George Costanza would ever aspire to be a hand model. I want to get in and out of the mall as fast as possible. The place makes me feel like General Zod stuck in the glass prison flying through space. All I think of when asked “Do you like how this looks on me? is “Where is the nearest BEST BUY?” At least there I can talk techie-nerd things with the zit faced, world of warcraft playing employees that until they can build one will never ever see a woman naked.

It just dawned on me… I know what happened to all the benches from the malls. They are now at wal mart. You know... Those beautiful metal things parallel to the shopping aisle end-caps that leave the criss-cross pattern on the back sides of the grossly obese patrons? I thought you would.

WHY IN THE @#$% ARE THERE BENCHES IN wal marts?

WTF! It is a wal mart, not a park!

Is buying groceries and other stuff priced only $0.05 cheaper than Target or Meijer that tiring? Oh wait, I forgot “Rascal” batteries lose their charge. (See video)



I guess it is too much to ask people to walk down the aisle to get their bags of Oreos and Twinkies. Have you picked up yet on my lack of respect for wal mart? They do not deserve to be capitalized. I’ll save that for another discussion if the “powers that be” (“cough” Becky) don’t censor me.

Till next time…
Peace!
B-Weve

Ice Cream

Shoot.

It's after 7:00 (it's 7:10) and I'm sitting here eating a bowl of ice cream. It's a small bowl, and I probably won't eat all of it, but regardless, I am eating.

Swam for an hour today--more than 1.5 miles, so now I sit here eating ice cream. Who knew.

Well, I was eating ice cream--I just fed the last part (about half) to the dog. It was really good. Vanilla topped with homemade granola. Yum.

We all fall down. :) Today was amazing: read books on the porch with the boys forever this morning, and got my raised beds ready for tomatoes--and now, I ended the day with a small bowl of ice cream. Good for me.

Have a wonderful day. I've got a run tomorrow. :)

b

Blinkers, Unmade Beds, and Bad Customer Service

A word or two on pet peeves.

I wanted to take this time to touch on pet peeves. We all have them, and although we may categorize them differently the end result is usually the same: annoyance.

Here are a few of mine.

1. Blinkers. God through man put blinkers on automobiles to be used.

2. Unmade beds. I detest an unmade bed. If I take a nap at 3:30 in the afternoon I have to remake the bed. Note: This does not apply to beds in other people's homes. I don't care how your beds look all day, but 99 times out of 100 mine are made before 8:00 am.

3. Bad Customer Service. My parents owned their own business most of my formative years, and during said time period I often worked the cash register--not glamorous, but excellent for spending money. My dad and my aunt were usually in charge, and both were sticklers for excellent customer service. As a result I place an incredibly high value service as a whole. From waitstaff to telemarketers I expect superior service, and when it's bad I do not hesitate to write a letter or call a manager about it. (Ask the kind (or not so kind) folks at Columbia Gas--there's a scathing letter in their BBB file.) I'm quick to praise--do a good job and your boss might get a note detailing how well our family was treated. Feedback is important. If we allow people to continue using rude and demeaning behaviors we shouldn't expect anything to change.

Which leads us to...
4. COMPLAINERS--who complain just to complain, they aren't going to do anything substantial to solve the problem (it is, of course, the responsibility of someone else) so they just complain to hear themselves talk. Awesome. I could expound for hours here--but it's closing in on bed time.

Now you've read about a few of my pet peeves--let's hear yours. Anyone?

B

Been Gone Too Long

First of all, I'm sorry it's been so long. There is no reason; I wasn't sick or on vacation, and our computer didn't blow up. For those who were enjoying the rantings of a thirty something mom, I'm honestly sorry I haven't been writing more often. (Or at all for over a month.)

Here's the thing. I fell off the wagon. Actually, fell is a bit of a misnomer, I'm thinking jumped headlong into a pit of chocolate may be slightly more accurate. You see my friends, Lent is over.

Some of you are no doubt laughing, and rightly so. I'm not laughing--I'm swearing at the Easter Bunny and his candy, oh, and my no existent self control. For 40 days I was able to avoid both alcohol and sweets, and although it was tough I managed to get through it relatively unscathed. Easter morning-candy and donuts, and that's a ditto for lunch and dinner, but throw in some ice cream for good measure and you've got the picture. Since then I've said I'm trying to stay off sweets again until the half marathon on May 1. What a joke. Between Ben's birthday, the library's 100 years of service celebration, and Nick's All About Me special treat I've been eating almost anything covered in frosting or foil (that would be candy eggs, bite size Snickers (or Butterfinger, or Crunch, or Milky Way, or Twix).

What to do, what to do. Blah, Blah to the diet crap. I've learned over the last 6 years that I can't diet with shakes or miracle pills--for me it's just another license to eat. Portion size and frequency--that's where I lose (or gain). I do this all the time; talk, talk, talk, talk, write, write, write, complain, complain, complain. And what happened? I stopped writing for over a month and I allowed myself to no longer be accountable, and the goals I'd set for myself became less and less apparent and significant.

That ends today. I tried my shorts on today, and while they fit, they are tight--two weeks ago, not so tight. The path I am currently wandering along is not where I should be headed, and seriously, I need to (sorry Rachel and mom) get my shit together. I know I could have worded it more gracefully--but it wouldn't have expressed my absolute anger and disappointment with my lack of self control. Ugh.

There's the weight rant. I've again (ugh, how annoying) committed to not eating after 7 pm---additionally, the sweets are off limits until race day. Please, I beg all of you--hold me to this--support this decision, I'd value help from any or all of you!

How about some good stuff. The running still continues to go well. I've got one long run left before the race, and I'm feeling good about where I'm at right in the training process. I'd like to run something in Michigan sometime this summer if anyone is interested give me a holler and we can try to work it out.

Thanks for bearing with me for this blog. I promise to be back with something more interesting tomorrow.

B

Mean Girls.

You know, hurt feelings totally suck.

In February I wrote about the dreaded middle school years and the awkwardness that goes with them--it's both enlightening and disheartening how frequently the old crappy feelings still happen, and how even at 34 I'm no better at handling it than I was back then.

I still remember giving a lecture to my class of 8th grade girls (they are sophomores in college now)---it centered around the fact that women, for whatever reason, can't just be nice. We're catty, we're gossipy, we're (mostly) jealous, we ignore, and we are, quite simply, mean. This class had 11 girls--all different and amazing, but for the life of them they could not get along. Finally, I threw the 4 boys out in the hall and had a fairly frank discussion about this issue. Here's how it went: (As I remember it anyway.)

Girls are always mean. I'm 28 (or I was then)and there are still times people talk about me behind my back. They say mean things, things intended to hurt my feelings, and because I'm not always above it, I do too. It's awful, it's horrible, but know this: It doesn't change, so get used to it right now. Stop the crying and carrying on and on and on---start changing how you address the situation. Talk to the person who hurt you, tell them explicitly how it felt. Most bullies aren't used to people standing up to them--once you do it will be easier the next time, and, just so we're clear, there will always be a next time.

Clearly it's not verbatim (please, the speech lasted like 20 minutes), but you get the gist of it. Here's the thing--I hadn't thought about that situation until recently. Lately, I have been so guilty of gossiping and being mean. I try not to, but I'm prone to being a blabbermouth, so I'm sure I've had some speed bumps along the way.

Perhaps we need to have our own feelings hurt more often. It's not enjoyable, but the reminder is there---once we experience it (or suffer through it)we are far more likely to monitor our own behaviors.

It's time to begin thinking before speaking, and to wonder if what you've got to say builds someone up, or tears them down. I've been slugging through this process for the last week--often finding my version of humor, while funny to many, may be biting and caustic to someone else.

Beck

Two things:
1. Anyone out there interested in running? You've got plenty of time to train. Let's GO!

2. If you are currently following the blog do you get an e-mail each time I post a new entry?

Sunny Days+ Good Runs=Changed Perspective

I ran eight miles today and it totally rocked. Tuesday I ran five and it didn't.

Today the sun is brilliantly shining and the snow is (finally) melting. Tuesday it was cold and dreary.

Funny how two days changed my outlook and somewhat altered my caustic state of mind.

Here's the deal. I'm not back sliding on my rant from Tuesday, but I am ready to admit that it was, perhaps, harsher than it needed to be. For that, I do apologize. My aim was not to hurt feelings or cause friction between myself and people I care deeply about--I wanted to trigger action and change. Let me be the first to say I could have gone about it in a kinder gentler way.

I am sure to some my ramblings (or as my father put it--my rumblings) seemed self righteous, morally superior, and smug--I can unequivocally say that wasn't my intent. In fact--if I've learned anything through my experience it's that I don't get to make choices OR judgments about how other people spend their money. Sure, we may not agree, but the only money I'm actually responsible for spending is my own (and Ben's too, of course.)

I'll still gladly stand on my soapbox, hold my placard, and write what I believe, but from now on I'll at least think about tempering my rants. (Notice, I said I'd think about it---no promises. I've always freely (and sometimes brashly) spoken my mind, not sure I'm ready to change that just yet.)

So--go therefore and do good. Buy someone you don't know lunch. Hold a door. Use manners that would make your mother proud.

Oh, and run too. Remember to drop me a line if you're willing to put feet to pavement. :)

B

Run Forrest (Becky), Run!

Now that the rant is gone let us refocus.

I've heard from a few more people about their willingness to run sometime this summer. We've got 5K, 10K, and Half Marathoners on the docket over the next 6 months. Within the group are people who have never run a race before, those who are 'out of practice,' and finally those who run all the time. We're a motley crew, but one I'm proud to be a part of. (Damn, I hate ending sentences with prepositions--so annoying.)

Anyone out there struggling with the training? Anyone need a race to run or a buddy to encourage them? Let's talk about it--I will again return to the idea that saying you'll do something in a public forum makes you highly accountable; not only to yourself, but to the others who are silently cheering you onward!

If you aren't already a part of the committed list--post a comment or e-mail (wever@columbus.rr.com) me and get on the it. Make public your decision. If you want me to add the distance you've chosen I'll do that as well.

Meanwhile, get out there. Walk, jog, saunter, skip--do whatever it takes to get that first mile (or the 5th) under your belt. I promise, you will not be disappointed.

B

Oh, and as an added side note. I'm rocking the whole no sweets thing. Here's my secret: Golden Grahams--I feel like they are feeding my inner crack (sweet) habit.

This is a Rant. Beware.

I'm too angry/disappointed to write good things today. And please be wary, this is a rant. It's not going to be nice or pleasant to read. I'm outing people, I'm blaming people, and I'm calling people to task.

Seriously. What is heck is so hard about helping other people? I need to know--are you too busy? tired? don't have enough money? Come on, what's your excuse? Here are a few I've heard lately: I work and I'm exhausted. I want to spend more time with my kids. We can't afford it. I don't know her so I feel uncomfortable. BLAH (I really wanted to drop the f-bomb here, but my mother will read this.)BLAH BLAH BLAH.

There are needs in every community not currently being met. Simple things, like food pantries are empty---why? How many of us went out to eat--even at McDonald's in the last 2 weeks? Now, how many of us took time to donate ANYTHING to the places or people that need help? I'm thinking few, and it is totally and completely pathetic. There is no excuse.

I'm sorry to make an example of my mom's group (I'm really not sorry--I'm actually happy to do it), but there are 74 women on the current e-mail list--do you want to know how many responded to make a meal for a woman with five children who is DYING of cancer--10. That's right, less than 15% of us had enough time/money to make a meal for a woman who is currently undergoing chemo and radiation. She is the one who doesn't have the time or the money or the energy to make a meal--please get over yourselves. I'm embarrassed and even more, I'm ashamed.

I'm also going to revisit the money issue. If you have internet in your home you can afford to donate to the food pantry. If you eat out, you can afford to make someone a meal. If you watched a movie on your DVD player this month you can afford to donate a couple hours of your time to help a neighbor shovel the driveway. Seriously, I've heard the money excuse so often from people who keep their heat at 70 degrees. COME ON.

Is this what we've become as a society--a group of people who think of themselves first, and foremost---often complaining about our lot in life to anyone who will listen. HEY!! Earth to all of us---we live in the United States of America--we have freedoms other countries only dream about--freedoms people died to protect. And this is how we choose to honor those who died protecting our freedoms--ignoring those around us who need help? Choosing to focus on getting more more MORE MORE instead of looking around at what you have that might help another person.

Here's the deal. We could all do more; from offering to watch someone's kids for a couple hours, to making a meal, to taking toothpaste to the Personal Needs Pantry--we are all capable of extending a hand to someone in need. I'm not asking anyone to go out there and change the world, but I am asking you to look carefully at what you have and choose to make a difference in your community. It's totally worth it--aren't we worth it?

I was raised to believe that you always get further in life with a kind word or gesture. I'm not perfect, there's always more I could do, hopefully we can all start small and let it evolve from there.

B.

Can You Ice Dance?

I'm skipping good things today. I haven't written in almost a week--not for lack of trying, I was having a hard time getting motivated and inspired.

Got inspired today. (Really yesterday.)

I got into a 'discussion' via facebook about the merits of ice dancing. Someone noted how it was the wussification of sport and that ice dancers only started ice dancing when 'they couldn't make it as real skaters'. I disagreed. I couldn't find enough space to spout my arguments there so you'll all have to put up with me here.

In addition the the commentary on ice dancing the writers also hit on golf, synchronized swimming, and rhythmic gymnastics--labeling them as non sports and indicating them as sports invented to 'make everyone feel special.' Here we go.

SERIOUSLY? Can you keep time and steps on a steel blade like an ice dancer? Can you hit a little ball into a cup with precision like a golfer? Can you hold your breath for two minutes while catapulting your feet skyward? I can't.

There was also discussion about these athletes being less fit than other traditional sports. I'm fairly sure that pound for pound those ice dancers can leg press as much as a football player. What other sport makes you hold your breath and swim around lifting people out of the water? None. I'm telling you these people are fit, probably in better shape that athletes in other sports. I looked for days and didn't see ONE heavy curler. (Except for the pregnant one, and she looked amazing.)

Here's the thing: I love the competition---who cares that some of the sports are boring--I have no clue what goes into making a synchronized swim routine a good one--and really I don't want to, I just know it's more interesting to watch than baseball, and I'm thinking more physically exhausting. (For me, paint drying is better than baseball---I pray that Nick and Luke never pick up a glove--ugh, BORING.)

So--let's celebrate competition. Relish it. We're coming into the best season of the year--March Madness. (College basketball for those who don't know.) It's the time when the little guy has a chance to bring down the heavy hitter. I LOVE IT!

Anyone else interested in running??? I'm still looking to add to the list.

Becky

Here's tomorrow's topic: American Idol. It will be worth the read, I promise.

Fleshy.

Good Things About Today:
1. Down time with no plans.
2. It's warmer.
3. I've made it 5 days with no sweets in sight. Holler. 35 Days remain.

Fleshy.

I hate this word, but I feel like it describes perfectly a few parts of my anatomy.

Here are a few examples, so the rest of you can compare.

1. When the jeans ride too low leaving a muffin top or, even better 'the bulge'. It might not be a complete muffin top, because the waist isn't that tight, but the fleshy bugle emerges and I find myself often poking it. You don't need to say it, I already know it's pathetic.
2. Area right above the bra near the under arm.
3. Pooch. (Need I say more?)
4. Any area of the back while twisting.

Why did I bring this up? Because today, I felt fleshy and I HATED it--there was a little more sag than normal, a little more roll over than expected, and BANG I'm off. Driving the "I've got a terrible self image" train from station to station. The funny thing is, it only took ONE glance in the mirror to set me off. I'm sure I looked perfectly adorable at church this morning, but I continued tugging at my jacket the entire service---what if the back of it decided to creep up and people saw the fleshy roll? What then?

Here's the thing. In hindsight (ahh, the lovely hindsight--seriously, what a pain in the ass) I wasn't looking at anyone else--is it possible no one was looking at me? When did I become so paranoid about these things; is it beaten into women when they are young? Do we inhale the poor self image concept like candy on Halloween beginning at birth, or does the revolution take place later? I don't consciously remember feeling overly concerned about my appearance until at least fourth grade. (Making exceptions for class pictures, of course.) And I know it was much, much worse in middle school. Middle school girls can often be inhumane--but where do we learn this behavior? Could it be natural selection--survival of the fittest (or the meanest?)

Anyone got an opinion? POST it.

As an added nugget of truth (and in the spirit of honesty) I want you all to know I'm no closer to my goal of losing 10 pounds. Haven't lost an ounce, in fact I think I'm up a pound or two--at least one, probably two. I need to work harder here, but shoot I gave up the candy. :)


Enjoy the remainder of your Sunday!

Becky

I feel pretty, oh so pretty. Celebrate.

Good Things About Today.
1. It's Nick's first full day back at school in two weeks. We had snow, snow, snow, President's Day, snow, and snow to blame.
2. Shaun White and the Half Pipe show were incredible.
3. It's Thursday--that's always good.

So the title to this entry comes from My Fair Lady. I'm sure you all know the movie--Audrey Hepburn is transformed from grammatically challenged Eliza Doolittle into proper speaking, immaculately dressed Eliza. At the beginning of the movie she's down on her luck with little money or social grace---they also try to play down her beauty, but let's face it--we're talking about Audrey Hepburn here--classically beautiful without even trying. I'm sure she would have rocked the "just left the gym and here I am in my sweat pants" look every time. I digress.

Have you ever had an Eliza day? One where you wake up feeling like you could successfully take on the world with one hand tied behind your back? AND you'd look like a million bucks doing it. We've all had a few in our lives, maybe one thing stands out over another: you looked incredible, you dealt with problems so effortlessly, or everything just fell into place. Something was just 'right' with the day--it's one of those times you keep in your pocket, stashing it away for the 'crap is raining down on me' days.

I want all of you to think of your best Eliza day--the one where, for whatever reason, you felt transformed--where you were the one rocking the look, the test, the situation. For some reason, we celebrate these days once, often forgetting to take stock of the beautiful parts of life. Today is the day I want you to take time to remember, and from now on don't allow yourself forget. I also encourage you to post your memory and share it with others.

Here's my Eliza Day.
April 12, 2008 (my brother's birthday) I completed the Commit to Be Fit Half Marathon in Columbus, OH. I ran it in 2 hours 12 minutes and I cried at the finish line. By the finish even walking was painful--I didn't do a good job training, and thus had injuries in both legs when I ran. Regardless, I finished--and the Eliza part of my day was that my two little boys, my husband, and my sister (with her two kids) were all there to support me. Not that they remember now, but my boys saw me cross the finish line. Additionally, my good friend Heather, who ran a half a week later met me at the finish--and she cried too. I was totally elated and felt like nothing could get in my way that day. I felt transformed--invincible (except for the legs.) To top off the perfect day: I ate as much pizza as I possibly could cram in that evening. It rocked.

So--now share. What's yours! Get inspired.

Beck

Oh, and day two of lent and so far so good.

Goodbye.

Good Things About Today.
1. Bowling with the boys--awesome.
2. Walking the dog in the snow.
3. Canceled nightly activities--now I don't have to miss the MSU game.

Goodbye.

Before you read the following entry please note: I ate a huge cupcake for breakfast, and throughout the day I managed to eat about 100 Reese's Pieces.

Tomorrow morning I'm saying goodbye to sweets--for 40 days. It's one of the two things I'm giving up for Lent. The other, alcohol, isn't nearly as hard for me--I enjoy a beer now and again, and the occasional glass of wine, but for the most part, I won't really miss it. I actually give it up because there are a couple events we attend during Lent that make avoiding it very hard--thus I feel it.

This is the fourth year in a row I've opted out of sweets. The definition of "sweets" gets transformed often--one year only chocolate, another year candy as a whole, one year all junk food (that was totally awful because Ben felt that all chips belonged in this category.) This year the interpretation I'm using is candy. Otherwise known as: chocolate, gummy things, taffy, ice cream (in all forms), cookies, cakes, brownies, pies, donuts, and anything else that might just taste wonderful. The only thing I'm setting aside is brown sugar in my oatmeal or on my pancakes. Otherwise, for the most part, I'm out.

I'm not sure what effect this may have on my writing or if my inner crazy will be forced out. We will all have to wait and see together. :) I'd also like to mention that last year I actually GAINED weight during this time frame--pathetic, right. Honestly, it really is.

Did anyone else think about the challenges? Give something up and do something.

Post a comment and let us all know where you're at with this. Good Luck, God Bless. Have a good evening.

Beck

Lent-Give it Up.

Please note--I've added a spot on the far right of the blog for those who have made the written commitment to run this summer. If you told me you wanted to run and I missed you, please let me know! The list is getting longer--who will be next?

Good Things About Today:

1. Good 5 miles.
2. Snow, again, but Ben is home to shovel!
3. Olympics+DVR=Heaven

Today, let's talk a little about Lent.

Right off the bat, I'm going to assume you all know what Lent is...if you don't a quick trip to Wikipedia will help.

Growing up Lent wasn't really an integral part of my Easter experience. I routinely scoffed at you Catholics (Wendy, Ang and Jole) who talked about giving something up. My overall immaturity gave way to a snicker here or there about kneeling and praying with beads. Little did I know that God had a very significant plan for my life that was going to upend my Catholic stereotyping.

At 24 I found myself teaching seventh grade in a Catholic school. As a practicing Christian (Yes, Becky, Catholics are Christians too.), I wanted to make sure I didn't lose myself and my beliefs after being submerged in what I believed to be Catholic mumbo-jumbo. Well thank goodness for that, right?

Who knew how incredibly wrong I could be...(I'm sure several of you did, but please refrain from chiming in here.) After being exposed to my students and their parents during those first couple of months I began to more clearly understand the intricate practices and rituals which were part of a Catholic's faith. It's that 'PART' word that is the important one---I failed to recognize (because I was immature and arrogant about my own faith)--Catholics are not simply their practices--their faith was just as solid as my own, and in many cases even more so. The realization brought be down a few pegs, and helped me to understand how much I could benefit for watching, listening, and even trying some of the things I'd once criticized. Thus: Giving up something for Lent.

Now you understand how I got where I am today---it's time to think about what (if anything) you'll be giving up on Wednesday. And here's my challenge to you all:

Don't simply give something up, also promise yourself you'll DO one thing everyday. My goal is to mail 7 letters each week to people who have made a difference in my life. Corny, I know but I think this is a good way to thank the people who have helped me get where I am today.

So there's your challenge--it's a two parter. 1. Give something up (and make it worth it) 2. Choose one thing to DO every day.

Tomorrow we will delve into what I'm giving up.

Also, remember if you want to run, let me know!

God Bless.
Becky

Faux Paus at the Gym.

Good Things About Today.

1. Two hours later and both boys are still napping. HOLLER!
2. Completed a 6.5 mile run today in just under 62 minutes.
3. Friday--and a nice long weekend ahead with full Olympic Coverage.
4. A BIG GIANT ENORMOUS thank you to all of you who read and comment. I have a blast writing this and I'm extremely grateful to any and all of you who take the time to read!

I have to talk about the sports bra today. We all know what it is--but for those who'd like my definition here you go: it's the cinch wrap that holds everything in place while working out, and it's a must.

Many of you are wondering where this could be going, and I'll tell you--women with cleavage (any at all) should not wear a "supportive" tank top from Old Navy to the gym and run (or walk quickly, or use the elliptical). Whoops, let's be clear here, I mean the tank with the pathetic shelf bra sewn in that doesn't support anything--News Flash--it is made to be worn under tops, not as a top with no other visible means of support. Furthermore, if it is less than clean (I hesitated on saying actually dirty) and threadbare--please, at the very least, throw on a t-shirt. Why? Because, for heaven's sake, you can see through it--you know, like at a wet t-shirt contest, only, hello, it's not wet.

Perhaps I'm being overly critical (a correct accusation sometimes), but really? And we aren't talking about a small chested woman here. Seriously, it is inappropriate, bordering on indecent---do I say something (clearly not, that was rhetorical)? Should someone who is employed by the YMCA say something? And did I fail to mention that the temperature in the Y is on the chilly side......?

Here's another one--full makeup and perfume (or cologne which was the case today at 8 am) are not required or requested during a workout. In fact, if your 'scent' permeates further than 12 inches beyond you--yes, you are wearing too much. Additionally,if you happen to be standing near a fan, please kindly remove yourself lest the entire row of people on the treadmills fall victim. In case you were wondering, persistent coughing and/or sneezing is a hint that you are are indeed guilty of a few extra spritzes.

I've added these gym tips today because I know so many of you want to make the commitment to run this summer. Proper attire and scent level are important to a good run. Go forth and jog!

Becky

Middle School. Ugh.

Good Things About Today:

1. Library time, mmmm, lovely.
2. Nothing to do tonight.
3. A clean basement.

I've got serious issues with food/weight/self image and the like. I'm working hard to rectify that, but right now the wall still stands. I've put together a little snapshot inside my head---so we can all have a good laugh.

1. Today, while vacuuming, I wondered how many calories I burned.
2. Today, while walking around the library I applauded myself for the lack of snacks I'd ingested during the day.
3. Today, right before I stepped on the scale I went to the bathroom. You never know what another ounce or two will do. (I also took out my hair tie because that might add to my weight.)
4. I attempt to run (or jog) up the stairs on every trip--it has to burn more calories, right?
5. I bounced and jumped around for a couple of songs during our weekly dance party session today--I wondered how many calories that burned.

Does anyone see a pattern here?
I do, and it doesn't sound like someone who is taking the time to enjoy life. At times, it's clear, I'm overcome by food/weight/self image. How does this happen? When did I fall party to this way of thinking? I think I can answer that:

Middle school--otherwise known as the third ring of hell. For me it started then--big changes came in 6th grade--who remembers changing for gym in the locker room in front of EVERYONE for the first time? Even now, the memory activates my vomit reflex. Not only was I a bit pudgy, I never excelled at anything--I was a good student, but not a great one. I was a good singer, but not a great one. I was a good athlete, but I rode the pine in basketball relentlessly--merely seeing the 3 minutes they were required to play everyone. To top it all off, I had so many body issues I couldn't see my way out of a paper bag--(which looking back was ridiculous, and we all know how hindsight works--oh, right, it doesn't.) Regardless, I hated middle school, passionately.

In high school things got better, and although the body issues I carried around for the three years of middle school may have been more hidden, they were certainly more significant. How I felt about myself manipulated how I treated everyone else. (For those of you who knew me then, I'm so sorry if I was horrible.)

Now I'm a wife and a mother. My family adores me (and vice versa). I feel safe and secure in this role, and yet I think about the holy trinity (food/weight/self image) habitually. I've got to conquer this, or at least learn to regulate the feeling of inadequacy, right?

Whew. This was a little of an eye opener for me.

Thanks for reading. I'm still looking for people to take the Run Challenge. Maybe we can all run something at Baby Food Festival together. (Those of you that are reading from anywhere close to MI.) I also think we need to put pen to paper or physically type for the world to see that we have committed to running something this summer.

Have a good one.
Becky

NOW I'm annoyed.

Good Things about today.

1. Soccer for the boys--super cute.
2. Equated shoveling the driveway three times to three handfuls of M & M's.
3. No nap time + lots of outside play + soccer= Early Bed time. WOOT!

And now for a new segment on my blog: Are you serious? This title will appear from time to time on various topics. Mainly used with people who can't be serious. Let's begin.

Are you serious?

This will be the first and probably last blog with any political stuff in it. Sorry, I was just angry.

I need to start by saying that my whole life I have advocated for choice. Some of you will hate that, others will understand, others may not. All that aside, I don't agree with the decision to have an abortion, and that's MY choice. I don't get to make that choice for anyone other than myself. I've only ever walked in my shoes, so I don't know what makes a woman feel like that is her only option, I just know I can't personally make that choice for them. I hope all of you will continue to read the blog even if you have a different stance---this is an open forum--please feel free to speak your mind. Lively debate is one of the most important rights we have in this country.

Now, as to why I'm annoyed. I love Tim Tebow. Ben gives me crap all the time about it, but I have stood, and will continue to stand firm. The guy is amazing--donates his time to help others, advocates for what he believes, and has no qualms about discussing his openly Christian life (all this in addition to being an amazing athlete). What's not to love---come on, he's great! (If he played for anyone other than Urban Meyer and FL I may believe him to be perfect.)

So this ad, the one with his mom airs during the Super Bowl. It's simple--she chose life, he's fine...and in one part of it Tim tackles his mom. It was meant to be FUNNY. And yet, because it's easier to throw stones the President of NOW had the following to say:

NOW president Terry O'Neill said that bit of the ad glorified violence against women.

"I am blown away at the celebration of the violence against women in it," she told the Los Angeles Times. "That's what comes across to me even more strongly than the anti-abortion message. I myself am a survivor of domestic violence, and I don't find it charming. I think CBS should be ashamed of itself."

Is she SERIOUS? This ad was in no way celebrated violence against women. The entire quote was pathetic--clearly she didn't see any of the Go Daddy ads that celebrated women as mere sex objects---so much more offensive than Tim Tebow tackling his mother, and yet there is no comment here, why? I'm confused. (Not the first time, certainly not the last.)

Each time I read her quote I get more fired up. We've got people starving, freezing, and lacking any type of home and she's wasting her time talking about this? I would have been far more impressed to hear her say something about how they don't agree with the ad, and are instead donating 2.5 million (the cost of an ad) to helping specifically women in Haiti. Figure it out---so much more would have come out of a move like that, but instead we have to bash others to feel better. Ugh. I'm sick of this already.

Thanks for letting me vent.

Three days until the Winter Olympics opening ceremonies. Woot.

Beck

Sap Central--It's the Olympics.

Good Things about the past few days.

1. Being snowed in (literally being UNABLE to get out of the driveway) made for a rousing bit for family time this weekend. It was lovely.

2. There are a mere 4 days until the Olympics. WOOT. I'm a huge fan. (More on this in a bit.)

3. Finishing a horrible run feels so accomplishing. Yea. (Small 'yea' it was still a bad run.)


Are you a crier?

I will freely admit to being a sap. I cry (frequently) during anything remotely sentimental. For instance, last week I watched Extreme Makeover Home about the teacher who has three girls and is dying of cancer. I blubbered through the 40 minutes on the elliptical and then looked at myself in the mirror----HELLO I had to leave to pick Nick up in 10 minutes and I looked like I'd been beaten. Good times.

The National Anthem (although I still advocate for a different song) gets me every time. The boys are always concerned--Why are you crying? And I try to explain what the song means, and why it's important--to a 5 and 3 year old. Please.

And now, it's the mother of all Becky Wever cry fests, the Olympics. It doesn't matter if it's ice dancing (which I love) or luge (which I don't)---if an American does well I'm proud. Heck, I'm proud they've made the necessary sacrifices to simply GET there--if they win and I watch the medal ceremony, I'm a mess. My mind runs quickly to that is someone's: son/daughter or husband/wife or grandchild--how incredibly proud those people must be at this moment (Go tears!). Can you even imagine? I CLEARLY understand this is an athletic competition, but to get to this place so much more goes into it. How much: money, time, hard work, injury, regret, determination does it take to get where they are today? I LOVE IT.

And those Opening Ceremonies, forget about it.

Get back to me this weekend and let me know if you shed a tear or two (or five hundred) during the Olympics.

And yes, for those of you who wondered, I totally cried when Drew Brees hoisted his one year old up with tears in his eyes last night. OF COURSE I DID--was there ever any doubt?

The Challenge, an update.

So far a few people have taken an active interest in my running challenge. I'd invite you all to post it---on facebook or somewhere else that you're willing to try it. I'm not saying you can't change your mind later, but I've found with my races once I tell someone else I'll do it I'm more accountable and I don't feel like I can bail out quite as easily later.

Tomorrow's Topic:
The Tim Tebow Commercial. (I love Tim, by the way.) Get your thoughts going on this one.

Intern Dinner.

Good Things about today:

1. Intern dinner.
2. Dog walks.
3. Being able to run, even if the run was terrible.

Tonight think of 5 things you are thankful for--write them down. Remember them tomorrow. Here are mine.

1. An amazing family--from stem to stern I've been incredibly blessed.
2. A free country where we all may not agree, but are afforded the right to voice our opinions. (Although if you are of age and don't vote you should not complain.)
3. God and faith. Simple.
4. A warm house and food. It's cold and I'm so thankful for both.
5. Hopefully this doesn't seem trite--it's just one of those little things I am thankful for--my electric blanket. (All of the others seemed so big--this is something on a little level I love.)

Intern Dinner I adore it, but it's a lot of work--thus I'm whipped and will live to write another day.

Hope you have/had a great one today.

I've gotten two offers of acceptance on my challenge--Hilary and Lesley are up for it, anyone else got the guts to run?

God Bless.

Becky

A numbers game.

Good things about today.

1. MSU/Wisconsin tonight. Big game, GO GREEN. (And for those who care, I hate the new logo; it's awful.

2. Soccer with the boys--adorable.

3. Long chat with my friend Denise who is going to have a baby by Monday. WOOT!

Weight.

For years I have been saying "the numbers on the scale don't matter, it's really about how my clothes fit." It's like that game you can play--tell yourself something enough times and you start to believe it. Well, I'm finally calling bullshit on myself. (Language police, sorry.) We can say it's not about the numbers all we want, shaking our heads in agreement, nodding as another member of the circle choruses her support, but GET REAL. On the Biggest Loser have you ever seen Gillian tell people to not worry about the ## on the scale, it's really about how your clothes fit? That would be a definitive no--she doesn't say it because at some point--a very real point, it truly IS about the numbers. When they change, up or down, it's a sign of what has been happening in our lives.

I completely understand that it's also about the inches lost, but to lose inches you have to lose numbers on the scale too. It's not rocket science.

It's also about being accountable, and for me this is tough. I've said it before, being accountable in the food department is the hardest part of the numbers game. Love the exercise--I feed off it actually (not really feed, because then I'd be full and would avoid cheese), but the food, that's another story.

Anyone have insight here? Oh, and so far no one has taken up the challenge....


Again, thanks for reading.

Becky

Cheese and a Challenge

Good things about today.

1. My run went very well--went in to do 4, finished 5 in 46 minutes.
2. Made excellent (and healthy) oatmeal blueberry muffins.
3. Read loads of books with Luke.

I started this blog almost a week ago to keep myself honest about my eating, weight, and exercise. So far I've written a couple entries about food, the rest have just been items on my mind. Today, we're back to where it started.

Food. I recall I said pizza was my vice--it is, but I noticed something much more scary this weekend. I cannot stop eating cheese--all kinds and varieties make my palette tingle. Yesterday I actually told Ben to physically remove the cheese from my sight, and I took the dog for a 30 minute walk. I knew I should stop, or at least slow down my intake--please, I think I looked like a vacuum, but I couldn't do it. Why? What power does cheese have over me? I have no idea, but it's clearly something I should be more conscience of daily. Daily, yes, daily--because here's the problem--we probably have pizza once every couple of weeks. As a vice, I adore it, but I can avoid it for 13 days. Cheese, however, is a different story. The dairy drawer in our fridge literally bursts with cheese. It doesn't help that today I went to Yutzy's (our local farm market) where they sell cheese ends--I buy them because they are perfect for casseroles and soups, that is if they ever make it home. Once I was in the car, without a second thought, I opened a package of cheese ends and ate with an almost reckless abandon. I've discussed my issues with self control before, but I'm not really sure I actually recognized it as a problem. Today, with the cheese, I clearly identified that it is, in fact, a problem, and it's one I'm going to have to work on if I want to shed the weight.

The educated inner me knows there is more to this than being hungry. If that's all it was, wouldn't a few bites have satisfied that craving and taken then edge off my hunger? What part of me feels the need to keep eating when I am CLEARLY not hungry?

On a lighter note, I ran 5 miles and THEN went to Yutzy's--so I made it there in all my sweaty gym glory. :)

Here's the challenge part for all of you readers. (It's a two parter, get ready.)

1. Identify your vice (or vices) and really work hard to figure out what is triggering the need to eat. I'll be slugging through the process too, you won't be alone.

2. Make the commitment to run/jog at least ONE race in the next 6 months. I'm not talking a marathon or even a half marathon here (although anyone who wants to run in Columbus with me May 1st is welcome to the guest bedroom.) I'm talking about committing to run or even run/walk a 5K or a 10K. Make the decision to do it, and I promise you will be able to accomplish it. I had never run a race (not even one) before I ran the April 2008 Half Marathon---NOTHING. I made the promise to myself that I would finish---there were no time goals associated with this race, I simply wanted to finish. Together we can all do this. Let me know if you accept the challenge. (For you Fremont readers isn't there on during Baby Food Festival?)

Who's in? Come on.....

God Bless.

Beck

Oh, and don't forget to make a trip to the library this week. :)

A note about food comas and If I were Gollum....

Good things about today.

1. Church. Love seeing the boys run to Sunday school.
2. Good food. (more on that in a minute.)
3. Cold dogs walks.

A note on food comas.
If you've never experienced a food coma I feel sorry for you. Today we had a wonderful lunch prepared by some friends, and on the way home--ensconced in the warm car, I was taken over by a food coma. The lovely duo of toasty warm car (love my heated seats) and brilliant sunshine made the 25 minute ride home perfect. Dozing lightly I was sated--full, but not too full, warm, but not too warm, and eyes just droopy enough to hear the radio and rest at the same time. Ahh, bliss.

Let's take a short moment of silence for the best food coma day of the year: Thanksgiving. By far the best holiday we celebrate (food wise) Thanksgiving offers us all that moment--decadent food lingered over for an hour, followed by swaddling oneself in fleece blanket and a two hour nap. (Some people would watch football, but for those of us who still root for the Lions, it's worth falling asleep instead.) Food comas are incredibly satisfying, and if you haven't had one since Thanksgiving, give yourself over to one next weekend. Totally worth it.

About that odd title----
If I were Gollum, 'My precious,' would be the library. If I were a pimp, the library would be my client (not a lucrative one, but a morally superior one for sure.) Why you might ask? Why not? What other establishment in this country can you borrow items of value for free and keep them until you are finished with them? Who else offers storytime without a catch? Use of the internet is free of charge, so is the notary. At a bank you borrow money and pay interest, at a library you borrow a book, CD, or DVD absent astronomical closing costs. Libraries are gifts--and in a country mired in division, one place we can truly agree is a library. Both sides are presented, and everyone's ideas are heard--here everyone is equal. The library doesn't care about bank accounts, home size, or religious preference, it doesn't bother with skin color, weight, or where you were born--it simply welcomes you into its shelves with open arms--seducing you with words and pictures. A library is THAT place---and it is a beacon of light for every community. If you haven't taken the time to visit yours lately, you should. (Honestly, if you haven't I'm tempted to call you pathetic, but I won't because I know you'll be there this week sometime, right?)

Tomorrow's Monday---hello week!

Becky

A Grocery Store Barbie.

Again, let's start with the good things about today. Oh, and I changed the blog name because I wasn't always writing about food.

1. It's a day off from the gym. Lovely.

2. Haircuts (a really good one.) with mini facials and back massages, for $22. Seriously.

3. Naps. During the week I rarely indulge because I'm afraid I'll sleep through Nick's pick up, but today---2 hours of bliss.

4. Basketball and pizza. MSU plays at 7 and I was able to stop at 2 slices of pizza. (I'm saving room for ice cream.)


Today's topic.

I love grocery shopping--even with the boys, but alone when I'm not in a rush and can wander is even better (this never happens). What I don't love about grocery shopping is seeing "Barbie." Up front I'll admit it is, in part, jealousy. She's perfectly coiffed--from head to toe, there is no misstep. Her handbag (because it's not a purse when she's wearing it) coordinates with her, just-the-right-length belted trench, and the shoe/pant length issue I always have is absent. I'd love to blame her abundance of money, but quite often Barbie manages to throw together items from Old Navy, Kohl's, and Target with panache I can't muster even on my best days. Adding insult to injury is the fact that she's rock solid--not too skinny (making me glace numerous times in her cart searching for carbs), she's just got that way about her that says--well toned athlete (I'm sure she runs an 8 minute mile) with fashion sense.

If she's unmarried (because we ALL look for the ring here) we wonder where her J. Crew model boyfriend is hiding at Whole Foods. Surely, he's getting some cool small batch locally brewed beer. In his navy blue crew neck sweater and jeans he's handsome and confident in a way that might be annoying sometimes, but at the grocery store is sweet. They leave, with him carrying the bags (of course he is) and drive off in their Pirus.

If she's married, her cart is full of staples both of them enjoy. Beer, good red wine, something from the seafood counter, and lots of organic veggies. You can tell with one glance at the cart this couple does not have children. Nothing contains sugar, and with granola as the only cereal visible--I immediately jump to kid free. (Although my kids like granola, but they're weird.) You wonder how long they've been married--they're so cute it must be new, right? Who still acts like that after 5 years? (I'm being sarcastic, I know all of you who read this canoodle with your husbands in public, especially at the grocery store. Because he always goes with you, uh huh, sure he does.)

If Barbie is married and has kids the whole thing is crazy to me. I can't pull off anything 'Barbie' on a good day, with help. How does she get the kids dressed, get herself together AND get groceries in one afternoon? Usually, I hit the grocery with both boys in tow, straight from the gym, still in workout gear with a hat unceremoniously plopped over my shock of sweaty hair. But what I realized is this: Although I love the idea of being 'Barbie' with kids, it's not me. I can still be secretly jealous (or now since you're all read this you know), but for the most part I am thrilled how my guys behave in the store--using good manners and smiling at other shoppers. Regardless of my appearance, I'm truly happy being there with them.

The moral of this long, drawn out, somewhat funny tale is this: even if you don't have the fashion sense of Reese Witherspoon or the body of Heidi Klum (she's had kids and looks amazing.) You (and I) have something amazing to offer our children, our families, and our friends. Go forth--be a good friend, and wear sweats to the grocery store with pride!

Have a good weekend. God Bless.

Beck

Thanks, Greys, and Mom Jeans.

Let's start today with positive things.
1. All the cookies left the house today, and not a single one was eaten by me.
2. Planned to run 5.5 miles this morning, felt so good I ran a 10K (6.2).
3. Cleaned the bathrooms. Sounds lame, but I get joy out of seeing them (and smelling them) clean.
4. I'm also profoundly thankful for warm water and long showers.
5. Thanks to all who read the first two days and gave me feedback. I truly appreciated it.

Today I've decided to talk about getting older, specifically grey hair. I haven't been coloring my hair since college, and in college it was more dying my hair than "coloring" which I discern to be far more natural looking than what I had going. All that aside I haven't done it since because, I am, quite simply--cheap. I love the look, the highlights and all the fun stuff that goes into it, but it is costly. Now that I've begun the slippery slope of plucking the greys out--where will I go from here. Anyone else out there dealing with the grey monster?

Here's another one--what is up with today's JEANS? Seriously. Treating everyone to a booty glimpse when I squat down to pick up the boys is not something I have a particular fondness for, and lately I always feel like I've got on the plumber's pants. Every pair I try on rides low, and the new "mid-rise" is what low rise used to be 5 years ago. Yanking and adjusting and belting and pulling are the new norm for me in jeans, and while I would love to avoid the "mom jeans" label, if they stay where they belong I might invest in a pair--screw Oprah and Stacey London from 'What Not to Wear.'

Speaking of Stacey London, did you know she's pimping jeans from Lee now? As if she would ever wear a pair in real life. Come on.

Last week I had another old moment--my husband mentioned in passing that my favorite U2 album, October, was almost 30 years old. (Released October 1981.) and Pearl Jam's Ten was nearly 20 (August 1991)--can this be? Can the music I so adore be on the oldies channel.

How do you feel about getting older? How has your world view changed in the last 10 years? Too many? How about the last 5? What's up with the obsession to stay young?

Have a good weekend. God Bless Haiti (and everywhere else too.)

The Visitor, Cookies, and Augustus Gloop.

So today wasn't a bad day--except for my trip to the scale and a glance in the mirror---have I really been looking like this ALL day? Even after a shower? Ugh.

It's interesting that a few days before my monthly friend is due to visit the scale creeps up. I HATE it. I don't feel like I've done anything differently, in fact, I've worked out more and tried to be more conscience of what I put into my eternally open mouth.

I had a friend in college who swore we should learn to love menstruation--she actually advocated spending a day in the forest bleeding into the earth. (I can literally hear your laughter through the computer.) She did mean it in the most literal of senses...go forth and bleed next to a tree, become one with nature. Whatever. She wanted to sing the glory of the period, I just want it to be over. There will be no trips to the forest this week, it's too cold. I wonder what she would have come up with for the winter.....I could ask her, but she won't be my facebook friend.

Next topic. Cookies. I've been cursing my friend Angela all day. About 3 months ago, when I lost my baking mojo in a fog of thoroughly awful pumpkin cookies, she sent me a recipe for double chocolate cookies that truly are killer. I made them, and in the process discovered my mojo hidden in the front hall closet where I'd gone to eat cookies in solitude. (No, not really, but it was funny.) I digress. The cookies. Since she sent the recipe I find numerous excuses to bake them. I've tweaked the recipe adding cinnamon and today, for the first time, Reese's Pieces. Lord have mercy. I took 2 dozen to a neighbor--less than a dozen left. (No, I did not eat a dozen, the recipe made 37 today--I've got a few left, lingering, calling, waiting.)

Last night I forgot to add that I have this little rule about not eating after 7:00 pm. At first I dropped weight fairly quick--like 5-6 pounds in the first couple weeks, now--not so much. It hasn't been too hard sticking to it, and I've only bent the rule a few times. I thought it was at least worth throwing it out there.

Here's a couple questions--What kind of rules do you have about food?

What's your biggest food vice? (That being the thing you can't turn down and then will continue eating it even when full to the point of bursting.)

You all already know my rules--for the most part anyway. My vice is simple. I cannot eat just one slice of pizza. Usually it's like a scene out of Willy Wonka--picture me as Augustus Gloop--and my chocolate river is pizza (bacon, black olives, and banana peppers). Spanky's in Fremont, MI or Benny's in Marysville, OH are best.

Good Night. Again, please forgive all the grammatical errors you encounter.

Here's The Deal.

Please note: I am not a grammar queen and beseech you to read without judgment.

Welcome to Shape of Food. A Blog by 34 year old mom of two, Becky Wever. (I'm also married to a wonderful man named Ben. He adores me, despite all my many flaws. Trust me, you've never heard me complain about his driving.) I'm loved. I'm lucky. I'm incredibly blessed. All that being said, I have a horrible self confidence problem and battle frequently with my weight. (Or at least with the scale.)

I've learned over the past 34 years (well maybe not quite 34..) that I have issues with food. They aren't serious enough to land me on a couch somewhere, but regardless they exist. (Don't take issue with the couch comment, I think it's totally and completely valid, but my couch issues aren't with food.)

It's not that I can't stop--I can. Ask me about Lent for the past 4 years, no sweets. I CAN do it, but if a concrete reason doesn't call to me before the brownie sundae with homemade hot fudge-- I'll eat it. And to top it off, I'll "sneak" extra brownies from the pan while the fudge warms through in the microwave. I put sneak in quotes, because who's really sneaking, no one but the two boys were watching--regardless, I knew I should avoid the extra bites--just like in theory I should have avoided the entire sundae.

I need to set some guidelines here first.
1. Everything in moderation--just not all in the same day. For instance, I indulged in the sundae, which by itself was fine, but paired with the giant onion rings I had at dinner and the hummus I emptied at lunch--maybe not such a good use of moderation.

2. Eating should be fun. Sometimes my anxiety over food/calories/weight takes over and I hate food, or more clearly I hate myself (my sister will freak out here--I don't hate myself it's more that I'm disappointed in my clear lack of self control.) Again--I hate myself because I can't seem to avoid eating two helpings of mac and cheese, or having "just one more" cookie. Unless I have a good reason of course, but Lent only lasts so long.

3. Set goals. Blah, Blah, Blah. Seriously. I'm college educated, this should be a no brainer--right? I think my problem is I fail to hold myself accountable to specifically to food/weight/calories related goals. I can set goals around the house and for exercise, and meet them--some are fairly big (our house is almost always clean, and I exercise 6 days a week.) I've got to get this food thing mastered. Ugh. I have a weight goal--down 10 pounds by Maui. Yes, I actually typed where I would like to be out in public---which leads to item 4.

4. Be honest. When Luke was born I had very little trouble losing the weight I'd gained during my pregnancy---I've also been able to maintain that weight for about 3 years---and each and every day of the last 3 years I've been thinking about losing more. Just another few pounds--we aren't talking Biggest Loser type numbers here---down 10. I also want to be honest about what I'm eating, and my current inability to control my snack meter.

5. Why Blog? For me, I think it's about being more honest with myself. I'll never look like a TV star, but at some point I want to simply be happy in my own skin. I am sometimes---but (and I'm attempting to be honest here) I am not. Blogging won't lose the weight, control my eating, or exercise for me, but it will give me an avenue to vent--honestly to myself and gain back some of the self confidence I lost....(who knows where I left it, but regardless it is currently absent.)

Here are my goals (since I said I should set some).

1. Run May 1st Commit to Be Fit Half Marathon in Columbus, OH in under 2:12 (two years ago I ran one in 2:12, I'm older and should be faster.)

2. I will maintain a healthy weight, and lost 10 pounds by November 18. (We are leaving for Maui on the 19th.)

3. Find a new peace within myself. (That sounds so annoyingly New Age--YUCK.) How about this instead. I will learn to love and appreciate who I am and what I look like every day. My life is a gift that God gave to me, I should stop berating what He created.

Let's start with those and see how far I get.

Thanks for reading.