Ok I just realized that last post probably made me sound suicidal, which I'm really not. I'm fine. I would even go so far as to say I am in a good mood. I am a day and a half away from a four day weekend, it's warm out, and I'm going to the Glee concert on Saturday -- all in all, pretty good. I'm just really pissed off -- at myself -- that I'm in such bad shape. I realize that getting skinny is not going to magically fix any problems in my life (other than health-related ones). But, it's still really fucking frustrating that it's so damn hard.

Ok, remember me? I'm back. I stopped blogging for awhile, and the reason for that is really that I was just lazy, but also that I didn't have much to say. I fell off the plan a bit, at least the eating part. I've been pretty good about the gym over the past 6 weeks, but have been eating like crap. Well, that's not entirely true. I haven't been as bad as I once was. But I haven't been great.

So why am I back? Well, because I am freaking out. They posted the final video of this whole thing online today. (There have been 6 total.) I am not posting the link here because, frankly, the fewer people who see them, the better. But e-mail or IM me if you would really like to see them, and perhaps I will be feeling magnanimous. However, they are terrible. I knew I needed to lose weight, duh, but I did not think I was quite as fat as I appear to be in the videos. Fab. I mean, how come I have a double chin in every single shot? I swear I never saw that in the mirror. Of course, they deliberately shot me from the worst possible angle every damn time. What kind of professional cameraman shoots you from BELOW?! Ugh. I am sure people are watching the last one going, "I don't get it -- she's still fat!"

Previously, I was telling myself that no one really watched these videos, so it wasn't a concern. But today I got a message on Facebook from SOMEONE I DON'T EVEN KNOW, asking me where the bathing suit was from. WTF?!?! Who does that?!?! I am dying. Shiiiiit.

Hopefully seeing the videos, more than anything else, will actually be the motivation I need. I really, really, really do not want to look like that. I've lost maybe 2 or 3 more pounds since this thing ended, but that's not that great. I still have a ways to go. It's so frustrating, but of course I have no one to blame but myself. Though I really don't know how I could be any harder on myself. Maybe if I watch the videos again before every meal.

I'm "training" for a 5-mile race on June 20. I'm not really sure what the point is, because there's really no way I will be able to run the whole thing. Last night I alternated between four minutes of running (ok, jogging) and four minutes of walking for almost an hour, and pretty much thought I was going to die after. I had the worst headache and was so nauseous the rest of the night. My breathing is getting a little bit better, I think, but my heart rate still keeps skyrocketing (182, according to the sensors on the treadmill), which scares the shit out of me. I am pretty sure it's just going to explode one of these days. Really, all I would like to be able to do is run one mile in less than 10 minutes. I don't ever need to do more than that, to be honest. Why is it so freaking hard?

Pole Dancing

OMG. Pole dancing class. Where do I even begin?

Well, the poles didn't even come in until later in the class. It began with 10 or so minutes of stretching on the mat that was less a warm-up than it was a preview of what it would be like to engage in sexual relations with the instructor. (What would it be like, you ask? I would say aggressive.) There was a good deal of ass shaking, hair tossing, shimmying, writhing, and an ass slap or two thrown in for good measure. Kristen and I just sort of . . . stretched. At one point I looked over to find her face down on her mat, laughing uncontrollably. (We were so out of sync with the rest of the room that it was a good five minutes before we even realized that we were the only people in the room who weren't barefoot.) Our classmates, however, were doing a much better job of emulating the instructor. One, in particular, who was ahead of me and unfortunately in my direct line of vision, was outfitted in nothing more than a bra and a pair of black underwear with "Biker Booty" on the ass. (It was in script, so I knew she was classy.) She seemed to be a veteran of the class, from the ease with which she, um, "warmed up," but the state of her behind was not . . . enviable. So I began to doubt the effectiveness of this work-out.

Finally the warm-up portion ended, and the instructor announced "Four people to a pole." This is when things really got exciting. Suddenly, people weren't barefoot anymore. Half the women in the class pulled on matching 4-inch sparkly platform stilettos. Do they all shop together for them, I wondered? We began to learn important tricks of the trade, like, don't pole dance in pants -- it's the skin-to-pole contact that keeps you from slipping off. (So THAT'S why pole dancers are so often naked!) Also, don't wear lotion when you pole dance -- same reason.

The instructor showed us some moves, like throwing your leg up on the pole and stretching, or hanging from the pole and pulling your body up to do crunches. As we just stood there staring at the pole quizzically, other girls wasted no time leaping onto the pole, hanging upside down and spinning around. My initial reaction was to check my wallet for dollar bills. We quickly came to the conclusion that some of these women were professionals. It was kind of like when a famous singer shows up at open mic night at a bar just for fun. (If that ever happens. I think it does in movies.) It was so nice of these hard-working ladies to treat us to a free show. However, Kristen and I had had enough at this point. We left to wash our eyes out and hit the cardio room. Never again.

Hungry

Ugh. I am grumpy today. I weighed myself this morning, which I know I should not do daily but sometimes do anyway, and I am back up 2+ lbs. I am sure it is the excesses of the weekend catching up with me, and I should be okay if I can just eat right for the rest of the week. But now it's time to order lunch and there is nothing remotely healthy that I want to eat. And I am not going to order something unhealthy, so I am just sitting here getting hungrier. I know I should get a salad, but I so don't want one, and the thought of trying to force some stupid leaves down my throat is actually making me lose my appetite momentarily. I could just not eat, but I don't think that's really a good option anywhere but in my head. The only thing I really want is pasta, but I really shouldn't. Grrrrr.

One week later

I never intended to stop blogging after this thing officially ended, I just got busy and/or lazy and then suddenly it's been a week since I last posted.

The past week has been sort of mixed. Tuesday night, I went out to celebrate Passover being over (and this being over, sort of) and scarfed down an enormous bowl of gnocchi with four-cheese sauce. I did manage to get myself out of bed and to the gym Wednesday morning, which apparently paid off because when I went to Weight Watchers on Friday, I was down 2.6 lbs in the last week.

The weekend was a little rough, though. I went out to dinner with my family Friday night and did not eat particularly healthily (but when you see pigs-in-blankets on a menu at a fancy restaurant, how can you not order them?!?), though I did pass on dessert. (I am just as picky about dessert as I am about all other foods, so neither the banana pudding nor the dark chocolate cake we ordered appealed to me. And I managed to stop myself from demanding we also get an ice cream sundae.) On Saturday afternoon I had a cupcake for the first time in ages, which would have been okay, but then I went with Hillary to The Meatball Shop, a new restaurant on Stanton St. that pretty much serves exclusively meatballs and ice cream sandwiches. It was totally awesome.

Sunday was a bit better, if we don't count brunch. But I met up with Kristen in the evening to take a Cardio Sculpt class at the gym -- I am definitely feeling it today. Afterwards, we spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Kristen (with help from her friend Erin) is putting me on a training plan for our 4-mile race. That should be interesting, to say the least. It started with jogging for 10 minutes straight. I told her I don't want to know what comes next, because I will probably freak out. I'm certain that I will never become a marathon runner -- it's just not a desire I have ever had -- but it would be nice to be able to run a mile, which I have never actually done in my entire life. Not even in middle school when we were required to run "the mile" every Thursday. I mean, I did it every week, but considering my time was usually in the 16-minute range, I don't think you could call that "running." (Maybe my best times were in the 12-to-13-minute range. Still.)

I ordered one of my Energy Kitchen standbys for lunch today, but when I went to compute how many points it is on Weight Watchers, it turned out it was 9 points! (That's a lot -- I only get 23 a day.) Trying to follow two different diets at once is really not working. I'll have to figure out some sort of modified plan that will work for me.

So remember about a week ago, when I was hysterically freaking out about the impending bathing suit, and e-mailed/called the woman from the magazine and got no response? I figured she was either out of the office, or just wisely choosing to ignore me. But she claims it was the former (really, if it had been the latter, I wouldn't blame her. Either way, not getting in contact with me was the right way to go), as she sent me an e-mail on Thursday apologizing for not getting back to me sooner, and saying she was really glad it all worked out and I conquered my fears and that she would have given me a pep talk had she gotten my e-mail in time. Then she said that if I wanted to keeping going, they have a column in the magazine where they get people in shape for a goal, and was I interested on with the trainer and the nutritionist? Crazy, right?!

To be honest, I didn't say yes immediately -- I can't help but remember how stressed out and miserable the past month was. But it did get results, and a chance to work out with a personal trainer for free is too good to pass up (the nutritionist, I could do without, frankly, but I guess I could put up with that if I had to). I e-mailed her back and said I was interested, but haven't gotten a response yet. I will keep you posted, of course . . .

I won't make it to the gym today as I have my Holocaust class tonight and tentative plans to go out for drinks with people from the class after. But Kristen and I have agreed to go back to the gym tomorrow night for a -- get this -- pole dancing class. I know, I know, it's horrible, and every feminist bone in my body (and that's all 206 of them) is crying out in protest. But the time and location works for both of us, and it's supposed to be good cardio, and I will assuredly remain fully clothed the entire time (which, according to the class schedule, is 60 minutes, but could be much less depending on how long it takes for me to go running out of the room in shame).

It's DONE!!!!

Well, officially.

So after much freaking out and hysterics Thursday night, I did e-mail the woman in charge and tell her I couldn't do it. And then I called her on Friday and left a message saying I needed to talk to her. But she never got back to me. Either she was out of the office (which is possible, since she was also out of the office today and wasn't planning on making it to our shoot), or she just figured the best course of action was to ignore me.

Wise.

After spending the weekend obsessing and worrying and freaking out, and saying, "I'm not gonna do it," I realized this morning (based on a suggestion from Dianna) that I had a sarong that would go nicely with the bathing suit. So I ironed it and brought it with me, still unsure if I would put the bathing suit on at all, but having a back-up option, just in case.

When I got there, the first thing they did was weigh us and measure us, in the workout outfits they gave us. According to them, I lost 6 lbs. (4 lbs according to my scale; I also went to Weight Watchers on Friday and according to THEIR scale, it had been 5 lbs since the last time I had been there 5 weeks ago. Either way, really good, though not miraculous.) I also lost a half inch in my arms, 2.5 inches in my hips, and, amazingly, 6.5 inches in my waist. So that explains why my clothes were fitting better.

After the trainer weighed and measured me, she made a point of saying that it was a good start, which made me feel a lot better, and like I wasn't expected to be a size 0 after a month. So I decided to put the bathing suit on -- WITH the sarong. (Speaking of size 0s, I am 95% sure I saw Agyness Deyn in the locker room. What are the odds she works out at the Union Square Crunch? If it's not her, there is clearly some NYU student who looks EXACTLY like her.)

I was a little worried they would say something to me, or make me take the sarong off, but they didn't. So I filmed the bathing suit shot that way. (And they filmed it from the front only, THANK GOD.) I felt much better with my thighs concealed.

After that, we had to change into a separate workout (so it would seem like they had filmed this a different day) and do some of the moves we learned on camera. I am sure I looked completely retarded, like maybe this was an exercise video for special kids.

So, folks, after all that -- it's over. However, I'm clearly not done yet, and still have a lot of work to do. Kristen asked if I wanted to sign up for a 4-mile race with her in early June. I was going to say no, because I HATE running, but I think I will do it. I need another milestone to work toward. And if the running really gets to be too awful, I can always just WALK. It's only 4 miles. And then at the end of June, I have Lauren and Marc's wedding, so hopefully I'll be a lot skinnier by then and can splurge on a new dress.

Of course, I still won't be done then. I still want to lose about 45lbs, and that's not going to happen in 3 months. But I need to not think about it like that and keep taking it one day (or one meal, or one workout) at a time.

I just e-mailed the woman in charge of this thing and told her I really don't think I can do this. I can't put a bathing suit on in 4 days. I can't.