Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Bras. The Struggle Is Real.

Let me begin day three of my Whole30 by putting this disclaimer: I began writing this on day two. Let's recap day two: I was mushroom topping over my jeans that were formerly known as my "fat jeans", I had a headache because of it, and I was grumpy. That brings me to 4:23pm and I'm already in my ever so loving and ever so shrinking sweat pants, I still have a splitting headache and feel like a tick that is ready to pop from sucking so much delicious blood. Now, I know that the guys won't get this but you ladies will so understand. Bras. They are already so constricting and forceful, but take it from me.....when you start outgrowing one it's a God damned nightmare. After my daily struggle to get my arms behind me, I undid my bra and the pressure in my head that felt like a pimple ready to bust was immediately released. FML I'm going to be in sweats, camis (gotta support the boobs), and sweatshirts for the duration of this Whole30. 

Another update: it's now time for bed and I'm starving. My body hates me as much as I hate it right now. I chalk up the hunger to the fact that I did not drink enough water today. That and my inner fat boy alter ego....let's call him Herman from now saying, "eat something, bitch. You ARE hungry. Let's be fat and happy." No, Herman. No. I WILL put my arms all the way down again. Herman, you're loving me to the over loving dog owner that feeds his dog too much table food and eventually the dog gets diabetes...AND DIES. Eat a salad and hop on a treadmill, Herman.

End of day this KILL ALL THINGS DAY, ROBIN?!?! Because it feels like kill all things day. I want to kill all things.

Today. Day three.

Yoga is hard. I did some yoga in my living room last night. Obviously, I need it (see above daily bra struggle). I would much rather clean and jerk or dead-lift all day long than do yoga. I am not, what you might call, graceful. Nevertheless, I need it. So, I did it in the living room. (That's what she said) I am not into that relax and breathe shit. I mean, I can't make it through a day without saying "that's what she said" at least 25 times. I have ADD.  I know my lungs work, I know my blood is flowing through my veins and oxygen is coming in my body...blah blah blah. I don't want to focus on it. I have a brain that is going 125 mph and I need to think, plan, and scheme...always. I'm alive aren't I? Body is working. I need to be able to hit pause, jump out of downward dog and get the casserole out of the oven when the timer beeps... and probably switch out the laundry. It's real life, people. I envy those of you that can time out life and just be like, "Fuck you, life. This hour is for me and me alone. I'm gonna focus on my abdominal breathing and start feeling the blood flowing in me. Fuck chores, they'll be there tomorrow." As I have learned from my newly appointed (she has no idea, obviously) life coach, Amy Poehler....good for you, not for me. Yoga is awesome. Yoga is fucking hard. Fuck you, life.

Well, I weighed. I reluctantly got on the scale and I weighed in at 170 pounds. I "weighed in"...I want to think it's like a pro athlete weighing in for a big match or something. It makes me feel better about life and my weight gain. I digress. Guys, my 8 foot tall husband weighs 180. Is this rock bottom? Normally you are not to weigh yourself during a Whole30. This is not my first rodeo, kids. I know what the Whole30 is all about and what to expect from it. When you've done three of them....we'll talk. Until then, don't judge me and don't weigh during a Whole30. Do as I say, not as I do. 

For those of you not familiar with is a timeline of what is typical to experience as your body detoxes itself. I usually experience every single thing on the timeline with extreme fervor. Go big or go home, I always say. No I don't. I don't ever say that. I'm way too lazy to have a philosophy.

And from time to time I may refer to "Robin". This is Robin: . She is one of my favorite people on the planet and she is part of the Whole9, aka Whole30 team. She has, until recently, lived in Springfield, MO. Lucky us! Not only is she like, THE smartest person I know, she's really really hilarious...and super hot to boot. Anyone who knows me knows I love surrounding myself with uber smart and uber hot people because, let's face it, it just makes me look better and people think, "Huh. She must be pretty funny/smart/AWESOME to have friends like that." Robin living here and being my friend is a big deal, people. She is a big deal. For real. I text her my complaints almost every day and I suckered her into being my mentor on this Whole30. Our texts usually go down something like this (her family is currently do a Whole30 as well and this is pre Whole30):
     Robin: *say's something witty and hilarious but I didn't get her permission to quote her sooo..*
     Me: I'm so glad I'm not alone. When I sit down my boobs sit on my stomach. I get sweaty and
            have to tuck my shirt in between. It's disgusting.

This is the stuff that she has to put up with because she's my friend. My self-deprecating and disgusting texts. She loves me. I know it. And I love her. Honestly, who doesn't want to hear about my boob sweat? Pfftt

Also, I looked in the mirror a little bit ago while in the new favorite room since I'm back on the kombucha....and I had another Ally McBeal moment when my wattle appeared. This is bad news bears. Some of you may understand that....some of you may think some really disgusting thoughts.I should not have a wattle. I'm not 102 nor am I any kind of poultry. Side note: if you have never watched Alley McBeal, you should

Alright. Day 2 in the books. Grumpy, hungry, fat clothes headache and something about mushrooms.

Day 3, so's early...I feel pretty decent. I have a little cold and the wattle is ever present but hopefully that subsides. The wattle, I mean. A cold I can deal with. It's way too cold today to do a garage workout or to run, so I'm thinking I'm going to do a little indoor WOD. Nothing major...I'm still getting back in the game! WEIGHING IN AT 170 POUNDS....uuuugggghhhhh (please say in your best Michael Buffer voice..sans the ugh.)
4 - 5 rounds, 10 lunges, 10 push-ups, 10 Squats, 10 sit ups, 10 jumping jacks. I'm a fair weather worker outer.


P.S. (Yesterday thought)
Something else that hit me today as I ventured back to the Facebook world while feeling super irritable and wanting badly to buy a dozen glazed doughnuts from Krispy Kreme....some people just don't get when I'm joking. There is always that one person that just completely ruins a post because everyone else "gets it" but that one person doesn't and comments something SO STUPID. Everyone ignores that one person and pretty much feels sorry for them. This isn't just on my posts. This shit is all over Facebook. Please don't be that person. My friends are smarter than that, remember? For the record, people...the majority of the things that I say here, and in person, are complete bullshit and are meant to be sarcastic and humorous and self-deprecating.

Ok, now I'm done.