I took some measurements this morning because the pants I wore yesterday were literally falling off of me. The 13 lbs I’ve lost are equal to 5 inches at my waist, 7 inches under my bust (what?!!), 2 inches on each upper arm, and 2 inches around either thigh. I’ve even lost an inch off each of my forearms, which I thought were fairly lean to start off with. To say nothing about the apron. (Goodness, what an awful term. When I was pregnant, it was like a big drip of fat, permanently suspended from my baby bump.) I don’t know how to measure it, but I know it used to rest on my lap when I sat straight in my office chair and it doesn’t anymore. It might be wishful thinking, but I’m pretty sure I have more neck than I’ve seen in years. I’ve gone beyond “muscle is denser than fat” and am now defying the laws of physics. My body has totally got the wrong idea about conservation of mass. I’m going to be the first ever 170 lb, 5’2” size 4.
(Btw, I’m thrilled about being in a size 14. My height disclaimer was because some of my buddies have 12 or 14 as their end goal, and I didn’t want it to seem like I didn’t think that was good enough. It is! It’s just not enough for me. My body fat % is still in the 30s.)
Thanks for the kind words yesterday. I’m sure I’m going to redefine my stress ceiling while I try to sell this freaking house while working. I’m hiring a maid to prevent a catastrophic domestic event. (I just got the coolest comic montage in my head about a homemaking mother gone villainess.) I finished packing, emptied, and got all the repairs done on our condo in Vegas by myself in under 2 weeks while Bobby came to Texas to start working. I did it with my mother-in-law around attempting to interfere with or undo every decision I made. I know I can make it happen if I want to.
Bobby IS pretty awesome. He’s been making dinner, which is super, but also bad. He’s not terribly aware of nutrition. (Bagels are a HEALTH food! I cooked dinner, you don’t need to make vegetables! Potatoes are good for you!) On Monday, he made curry with 18g of fat per serving in the sauce alone, most of it saturated. I made myself something else quickly, and he was very upset. Last night, he shooed me out of the kitchen and tried again. He made baked salmon with lemon pepper, steamed spinach, nuked some peas, and opened a pack of precooked organic wild rice and quinoa. He plated it for me with half vegetables, and slightly more protein than carbs. He IS listening! And it was fantastic. He has come a long way from mournfully bringing me boxes of potatoes au gratin and begging me to make them for him.
He has also lost 10 lbs “by accident” while I’ve been on my diet. (His words.) He was already pretty trim, since he runs about 6-8 hours every day, so I can’t really tell a difference in his appearance. He is happy, though.
My boss is chain eating crunchy things to satisfy his cigarette cravings, and it is driving me crazy. If I never see or hear another open-mouthed Dorito crunch-smack-crunch, it will be too soon.
Bonus: One of the designers who has been especially difficult to work with is now making it very clear to everyone on the project that she’s a putz by throwing tantrums on the jobsite.
No comments:
Post a Comment