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.

OMFG.

I show up at a class called Kangoo tonight, and the instructor, an insane-looking man with a mohawk, comes in and announces, "This is going to be an advanced class. If you have to get water, get water. If you have to drop out, drop out."

Are you fucking kidding me? I race out of work at 7:30 and take a freaking cab to the gym, spending $11 just so I can get there on time for your damn class, then have to spend another $14 on a 3-pack of socks when it turns out knee-high socks are required (I'll explain why later), and you can't even encourage me to stick with the freaking class if it's hard?! Fuckface. It said nothing on the class schedule about this being an advanced class. You can't just DECIDE that -- it's not fair to the new people! Where do they find these instructors?! Is no one ever allowed to take a class for the FIRST time? Can't people get help if they struggle? I'm not asking you to hold my freaking hand through the class, but at least don't start out by telling people to QUIT!

This class was called Kangoo, and the idea behind it is that you wear these insane moon shoes (at right) throughout the entire workout, so you're jumping up and down the entire time. About two minutes into the class, everyone is bouncing to the same beat, doing the same routine. The instructor, of course, never bothered to TEACH it, not that it would have mattered, because we did the same damn routine 400 times and I couldn't pick it up. The more I work out, the more I realize that the gym is a place for skinny, coordinated people. Chubby girls with no rhythm are not really welcome. I pretty much gave up trying to follow the steps and just jumped in place for 45 minutes. I was definitely sweating, so it wasn't a total loss. And if shooting the instructor death rays with my eyes burns calories, then it was a complete workout.

Yesterday was my last meeting with the personal trainer. Before our session, I went to a class she taught called Rebounding, where you spend the whole time on a little trampoline. (I've done a lot of jumping in the last couple of days.) That was hard, too, but at least my trainer was understanding of people at different levels. Or she just knew what a disaster I am. I was a little bit better at following the steps in that class, though not much. It did give me a chance to show off my uncanny ability to always do the opposite of what everyone else in the class is doing. When they're punching to the left, I'm punching to the right. When they have their feet out and their arms up in a jumping jack, I have my feet together and my arms down. Without fail, whether I am trying to stay with them or not. It's like I have exercise dyslexia or something.

After the class, we did our personal training session. I have to admit, I was definitely better than when we first started, which felt good. Particularly as I now have to demonstrate these moves on camera on Monday.

Hahahahahahaha! I can't believe the end is here already. Jan, the other woman, said she's getting a spray tan to prepare to go on camera in our bathing suits on Monday. She said it makes you look 10lbs lighter. I was considering it, but I think I really don't care. I don't feel like spending the money, I will probably look ridiculous and orange, and I don't think it's going to fool anyone into thinking I'm in shape. I've never been tan a day in my life; why start now?

As awful as it's going to be, I'm looking forward to Monday so this can just be over. Have I lost weight? Yes, but not much. I'm fitting into clothes better, but they're still much bigger than I want to be wearing. I am definitely going to embarrass myself in this bathing suit, so I just want to get it over with and move on. Then I can set a more realistic goal for myself, and just look back at this month as the jump-start that I needed. I just wish I didn't have to humiliate myself on camera in order to get it. Oh my God. Now I'm starting to freak out just thinking about it. People are going to watch this on TV or online and laugh at me. Are they going to think that I think I look good?! No! I know I don't. Fuck. Maybe I should back out. What will they do if I refuse to come out in a bathing suit on Monday? Because suddenly that's the plan. I'm not even kidding. I can't do this!

Weekend fun

This was quite a weekend. Friday evening, feeling guilty after having a few too many Girl Scout cookies (what?! I had to finish the box before Passover. God wanted me to), I did an hour on the treadmill. I had hoped to make it to a class, but could not get out of work on time. MAYBE 15 minutes of that hour was running -- maybe less -- but I think I did the best I could.

Saturday morning, I had plans to take a class at the gym with Kristen. As part of this whole program I am doing, I'm supposed to take the Beach Body class at Crunch once a week. A lot of the exercises that the trainer is working on with us are supposed to be from that class, and that's what will be running in the magazine and what we will apparently be demoing on camera. (Should be interesting, because I still suck at them.) I haven't made it to a class yet -- Crunch just switched to their Spring schedule of classes, so they have only been offering Beach Body for two weeks; of course I haven't been able to get to any of the evening Beach Body classes, and I was out of town last weekend. So this was my first Beach Body class, but I figured I would already know some of the moves, and it was a new class, so it's not like anyone could be all that good at it yet. Right?

WRONG. Kristen and I were in the class for 5 minutes when we started to realize something weird was going on. Though the crazy instructor did little more than yell "FOUR! FOUR!" and hold up 4 fingers with brightly painted nails half the length of my forearm, everyone else in the class collectively broke into a choreographed dance routine straight out of A Chorus Line. They were sashaying up to the front, then kicking their legs high as they danced back to place, arms flying and fingers snapping. There was twirling and clapping and leaping to the ceiling. If nothing else, it answered my question of which gym the gays go to.

At first I tried my best to keep up, or at least keep moving, but that quickly regressed to barely shuffling from foot to foot, my jaw dropped open, and a look of sheer terror on my face. WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON HERE?! How did everyone know this routine? WHY was there a routine? This was NOT what I had worked on with the trainer! Had Kristen not been there to share in the horror, I would have absolutely left after 5 minutes.

During a water break (and it is not easy to drink water while your face is frozen in fear), I was able to deduce from one of the other people that this crazy instructor had been teaching the same class at the same time for ages -- according to her, it used to be called Chisel, but they "changed the name to Beach Body." WTF?!?! They didn't just change the name, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DIFFERENT CLASS! Never in my life would I willingly submit myself to a class called CHISEL. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure taking that class every week would give someone a rocking body, "beach" or otherwise. It's just a little beyond my level at the moment. I felt like a hippo surrounding by leaping (in unison) gazelles. (Looking in the mirror only corroborated that image -- eventually I moved behind a pole.)

I did manage to stay the entire class, and eventually the dance number came to a close, THANK GOD, to make way for some equally impossible one-handed, one-legged push-ups. (I am not kidding.) I just stuck with modified push-ups, and that's pretty much how I treated the rest of the class -- just doing whatever I could do that was remotely similar to what everyone else around me was doing. (Also taking copious water breaks. You can never have too much water, so I don't feel as guilty about taking a break for that as I would taking break just to, say, keep myself from dying.) Somehow I made it through the hour, thanks in part to Kristen's encouragement, and my inability to find a clear escape route through the gyrating bodies around me.

Saturday night I met my family for dinner in Queens, then went back to Brooklyn and spent the night. Because I was out of workout clothes and desperately need to do laundry, I dragged an enormous suitcase (and by "enormous," I mean this suitcase is so big it is not allowed on airplanes) full of dirty clothes all the way out to Queens via bus and subway. (I purposely chose the entrance to the 7 train on 42nd between 3rd and Lex, because it has a giant escalator down to the subway. Of course, that escalator was out of service, and I had to pull the suitcase down the equivalent of 4 flights of stairs.) So surely that counted as a workout.

However, before leaving for dinner, I was feeling good after my two long workouts in two days, so I made the stupid mistake of trying on the bathing suits I am supposed to wear on camera in a week. Not a pretty sight. Realizing that I am still going to look like a "Before" picture, after doing this for a month, I cried on and off throughout dinner. With my family. At a restaurant. So that was awesome. And much appreciated by my dining companions. I literally could not stop it. Ugh.

On Sunday, I went with my mom to a pilates reformer class. We had to take a 40-minute intro before the hour-long class, and I was already insanely sore from the workout from hell on Saturday, so it was pretty rough. The nice thing about it was that I never got winded during the class, and it still felt like a good workout. The difficult part was that the instructor kept telling us to do things I am pretty sure were not physically possible, like "Pull your belly down inside your body." I carefully explained to the guy that my belly already IS inside my body (omitting the fact that I abhor the use of the word belly by anyone over the age of 6, which I thought was very big of me), so this was posing somewhat of a challenge for me. I would like to keep going nonetheless, but I believe it will be cost-prohibitive, as the classes are not cheap.

I wanted to keep the streak going and get up early and go to the gym this morning, or at least do the Pilates DVD Kristen gave me (thanks, Kristen!), but it didn't happen. (As if this stuff just happens -- clearly I hold the responsibility for the lack of happening.) But I packed a couple of sets of workout clothes so I can run ("run") on my grandparents' treadmill when I am out there for Passover. And I'm hoping that the dietary restrictions that are part of Passover will actually make dieting easier; between those dietary restrictions and my self-imposed dietary restrictions (aka, picky eating), I will pretty much be left with salads and chicken. Avoiding the endless cans of macaroons and matzah pizza will be tough, though. But the end is in sight -- by the time Passover ends, my Beach Body Makeover will be over! How symbolic; just as Passover celebrates the end of the Jews' slavery, so too will I end my slavery to this diet!

(Don't worry, I won't give it up entirely, I'll just make it a little more manageable. And I won't worry about putting a bathing suit on again until I feel ready, however long that takes.)

Hurting

I am so, so sore this morning. Possibly the sorest I have been since I started working out. Walking is difficult. Don't get me started on stairs. I don't know if it's from working out with the trainer, or from the class -- probably both, though. But I'll push through and go back to the gym today.

Small win this morning -- even though I am not seeing results on the scale (I've pretty much stayed within a two-pound range the entire time, which is not quite what I am going for), I am wearing a pair of pants that I have never fit into before. (Not sure why I bought them in the first place.) So that feels rewarding, at least. (It would be a bigger win if they were actually CUTE pants, but there is only so much I can fix at once. My taste in clothes will apparently have to wait.)

I hate the gym

I woke up at 6 this morning to take a class at the gym, and I honestly think I would have been better off sleeping. I've been completely exhausted all day, and the class SUCKED. Well, it sucked for me -- the other 5 people there seemed to find it beneficial. I could tell immediately it would be a problem when she started us out with squat thrusts, my least favorite exercise in the world, the one that is guaranteed to have be gasping for breath within 30 seconds, causing people around me to ask if I have asthma or if I am a smoker. This is a true story. That is what I sound like after 30 seconds of strenuous exercise. (This is why I get a kick out of people telling me the gym is a great place to meet guys. Do you mean when I am gasping for breath like a dying woman, my face is hot pink, and I am drenched in sweat? Seriously, how am I not dating anyone?)

The class was Cardio Sculpt, which seemed about as basic as it gets. There was just so much I could not do, and the instructor was not overly encouraging. No "work at your own pace," no "just do your best" -- which I guess isn't required or anything, but it would have been nice to be validated, particularly since I was front and center and surely the entire class, since there were only 5 of them, was watching me humiliate myself. I had this problem yesterday with the personal trainer, but at least she was nice and encouraging -- I am just so out of shape that I don't even hurt in the right places. I can barely do anything that requires a push-up position, because my wrists are so bad; when I try to do anything standing on one foot, my instep starts to hurt or my ankle twists. I can't even work out the right muscles because my body won't cooperate. I guess it takes time to build that up, even though no one else ever seems to have this trouble, but I get so frustrated and that makes me upset and I can't help but start to tear up, which is even more embarrassing and just makes it worse. Yes, I know, it's stupid that I cry while exercising, but I really can't help it.

In the shower this morning I was drafting nasty letters in my head to the people running this thing. "You have set me up for failure . . . I was upfront about my weight loss needs/goals and yet you let me think I would be an appropriate candidate to get a 'beach body' in a month . . . no way am I putting on a bathing suit two weeks from now . . ." Obviously I am taking no further action in that direction, but I am thinking it in my head. It is annoying when people say, "Wait and see! A lot can happen in two weeks!" Fifty pounds, people. Get real.

Again, not giving up. But not expecting to be skinny in two weeks. I'll be glad when these two weeks are over and I can just focus on doing my best instead of worrying about the bathing suit.

Back in NY

Was still exhausted from my traveling ordeal when I woke up this morning, so I stopped at Starbucks for a Frappuccino. I didn't realize it was Free Pastry Day, but I kept resisting even though they offered the free pastry over and over. I haven't had a whole lot to eat today -- just the Frappuccino, a wrap from Energy Kitchen, and a package of peanut butter crackers after the wrap made me nauseous -- which is good calorie-wise, but I know I've really fallen behind in terms of eating fruits and vegetables and stuff. I need to get back on that. I'm reluctant to do too much shopping since Passover is coming up, but I can pick up some staples.

Meeting with the personal trainer in an hour. Not looking forward to it, since I'm exhausted and still a little bit nauseous, but I'll do my best.

I finally got the other bathing suit that the Fashion Editors picked out for me. (I had forgotten the brand, so I couldn't look it up until now, but here it is.) Now I just need to decide which one I look better in at the final weigh-in. Which is two weeks from today. Crap. Well, Passover's all about miracles, right? Dear God, please send me a plague that makes me very thin.

The conclusion

Because I know you have all been waiting with bated breath for the conclusion to my riveting airport drama, here it is.

I missed both flights to NYC last night. I got in the very long customer service (I am sure they use that term ironically) line to confirm that I was on the 6am, and to try and get some kind of compensation. When I made it to the front of the line an hour and a half later, the lady laughed it me and said it wasn't Delta's fault. It was the weather's fault, and the Air Traffic Controller's fault. I asked if anything is ever Delta's fault, and she said yes, Maintenance. I pointed out that I had gotten to the airport in time to make the next flight, but was trapped on the plane. She asked what I would have liked them to do. I said I would have liked them to let me off the plane. She pointed out that there were no jetways available -- would I have liked to be let off on the tarmac? I said yes, that would have been just fine. She asked if I actually thought that was safe. I certainly did think it was safe, since clearly no planes nearby were moving -- if there were, perhaps there would have been an open jetway and I could have gotten off the plane THAT way. I pointed out that there must be a way to get off the plane without a jetway -- if it had crashed, they wouldn't make us stay on the plane until we got to a jetway. She said that I needed to talk to the government, then, and said she couldn't deal with me and got up and left.

At this point it was 1:30am, and since I was confirmed on the 6am flight, it didn't even make sense to go to my cousin's. Instead, I got some blankets from another, more serviceable customer service rep, and settled down to try and get comfortable on a bank of chairs. Obviously this was impossible, since the cleaning crew was vacuuming, all the lights and TVs were on full blast, and a man nearby was snoring. I was close to going over and kicking that man. Sort of regretting that I didn't. Also, what a waste of energy. I get the vacuuming part (though I am certain the cleaning crew was talking really loud just to be mean to us), but do all the lights and TVs need to be on in a mostly-empty terminal at 3am?

After that lovely night's sleep, I boarded the 6am flight that was scheduled to land at LaGuardia at 8:15am (if not sooner, since they said it was an hour and 20 minute flight). Then I pretty much passed out. I vaguely remember hearing things like, "We're circling Virginia," which sounded unproductive. When I finally woke up, it was well after 9:00 and the captain was announcing that we weren't allowed to land at La Guardia, but we were running out of fuel, so we were going to land at Newark. First of all, how awesome is it for the pilot to ANNOUNCE that we were RUNNING OUT OF FUEL? OMG. Also, I know jet fuel is expensive, and that is why flights are so expensive, but maybe flights would be cheaper if you didn't waste so much jet fuel CIRCLING VIRGINIA.

So we finally land at Newark at 9:45, an hour and a half AFTER my flight was supposed to land, and IN A DIFFERENT STATE. I know people consider Newark to be an NYC airport, but let's face it, no one ever goes there. So I get off the flight and am waiting around for someone to help me figure out the best way to get from Newark to Manhattan. A guy from the airline is explaining that there will be shuttle buses to take us from Newark to LGA, which is just great, except I don't want to go to LGA, so I ask how I can get to Manhattan. And he says, "If you want to go to Manhattan, you're on you're own." Fucker. Yes, I REALIZE I am on my own, I am not asking you for a RIDE to Manhattan, but it would help if you would let me know what options there were to TAKE me into Manhattan, for which I would pay with my own dime. I asked about the AirTrain vs. cabs, and he said "Cabs are faster, AirTrain is cheaper." Which was fabulously helpful at telling me HOW TO GET TO EITHER OF THEM. At this point it was already 10am, and I had an 11am conference call, and I just wanted to get out of fucking New Jersey, so I took a cab, which got me to work just in time for the low, low price of $80. AWESOME. And of course, the client doesn't bother to show up for the call. The one I raced here for. The one I spent $80 to be on time for. Meanwhile, work is telling me that I was traveling for personal reasons, so I may not even be able to expense that $80. Of course, if it had been up to me, I would have taken the cheapest option possible to get back to the city, regardless of time, and just checked my Blackberry. Damn everyone.

So pissed off this morning I had a chik-fil-a fried chicken on a biscuit before I boarded the plane, and my favorite steak and rice plate for lunch (although that usually fills me up so much that I don't eat dinner). And there is no freaking way I am going to the gym tonight, as I had planned. It is bad enough I have to go to Holocaust class, which I really like, but all I want to do is sleep. And throw things at Delta employees. I can only hope that running around the Atlanta airport with a heavy suitcase counted for something.

Falling asleep as I write. Trying to leave work, but have to wait for a creative to finish something up that needs to go to a client. Also my shoulder/neck muscle spasm is fucking killing me. Delta is going to fucking pay. They don't even know what they've got coming.

fuuuck

Remember my plane that was supposed to take off at 5:45 for the 34-minute flight to ATL? It is now 10:45, I finally made it to ATL about 45 minutes ago, and have been sitting on the plane ever since. Apparently there is not a single jetway that is free. Meanwhile, my connecting flight to LGA, which had also been delayed, is currently boarding. AWESOME. Surely once the flight I am supposed to be on takes off, the flight I AM on will be able to pull up to that same gate. Ahh, air travel. Could you be any less efficient? Any more dehumanizing? Can the government agency that I KNOW is making advancements in teleportation hurry the F up??

We're at a gate! OMG! Praise the lord, the thing that was supposed to happen, happened. Truly a miracle. Now let's see if I can make my original flight, or possibly the next flight out for which I am on standby. I am also booked on the 6am flight tomorrow, and have notified my Atlanta-based cousin that she may have an overnight guest - because of course Delta has made it perfectly clear that they will NOT be putting us up in hotels here because this is NOT THEIR FAULT. Honestly, is there ANYTHING an airline won't blame on the weather?

Waiting for my carry-on luggage that could not be carried on to such a small plane. HURRY UP!!!!!!

On a brighter note, all I ate on the plane was a granola bar and I'm not hungry.

Tallahassee airport

Sitting in the very small Tallahassee airport, waiting for my flight to ATL. The fact that the flight before mine is delayed indefinitely is not comforting, since I am already dreading my flight(s) and just want to be back in NYC (and in my bed) already. Wish the anti-anxiety pill and a half I took would hurry up and do their job. I HATE flying.

I had a great weekend - the wedding was absolutely beautiful, I got to hang out with friends I haven't seen in awhile, and I had a lot of fun. Eating-wise, I can't say I was perfect - but I definitely could have been a lot worse. Friday night I just had some bbq chicken (but wihtout the sauce) and two small corn cakes. I had a little too much to drink, but I made myself, er, get rid of the alcohol the same way it entered my body, so hopefully it doesn't count as much (and nor does the bag of pretzels I had just before).

Saturday morning I had a bag of kashi cereal that I had brought with me for breakfast. For lunch I had Chik-fil-a, which I know wasn't the BEST choice, but it's not in NYC so I never get to have it, and I stuck with a small chicken nuggets and a fruit cup. No waffle fries, no large nuggets, no lemonade. Definitely a better choice than I might have previously made. After lunch we went to Old Navy, where I used my 30% off coupon to supplement my gym wardrobe.

When I got back to the hotel, I hit the gym for 45 mins of cardio. It wasn't easy, but I did my best. Then, after showering and waiting for my face to fade from neon pink back to its usual ivory, I got dressed and headed off to the wedding with my hot date.

The reception site was gorgeous - the groom's uncle's farm. The weather was beautiful for the ceremony. After, we went around the back of the house, where a huge tent was set up for the reception. All of the tables were named after UF landmarks - mine was the DZ house, where I was joined by several sisters. The bride and groom sat at The Swamp.

The food was, unfortunately, amazing. There was a lot I just couldn't say no to (like a slider and a mini-grilled cheese sandwich and a ramekin of mac and cheese), but I only took one of each of those things, and had a lot of grilled chicken, fruit, and even willingly took some carrots (with hummus). If I tasted something and didn't really love it, I didn't bother eating the rest of it. And I was able to completely bypass the doughnuts they had (in lieu of a wedding cake). I kept alcohol to a minimum - just two white wine spritzers the entire night. (Question - what should be in an official white wine spritzer? I wanted wine and seltzer, and had to correct the bartender when he reached for the Sprite, instead. I've had other bartenders use Sprite instead of seltzer, too. I don't know if there's an official correct way, but using Sprite instead of seltzer certainly defeats the purpose of trying to be low-cal.) I'm also hoping that dancing all night (awkwardly, if not strenuously) had to have burned some calories.

At brunch back at the farm today, I had a bagel (well, a "bagel"; after all, what can you expect from Valdosta?) And some fruit. I again ignored the doughnuts (well, I took 2 bags - they were also the favors - but gave them to friends I saw when we got back to Tallahassee). I did stop at Starbucks on the way to brunch, but I avoided all the juices and stuff. And then for lunch on the way to the airport, we stopped at Moe's and I had two tacos, no sour cream, no nachos. Probably around 500 calories, and possibly the last meal I'll eat today - hopefully a granola bar during my layover in Atlanta will suffice.

So all in all, not the best ever, but certainly not the worst. And tomorrow, I'm back to being disciplined. My flight tponight doesn't get into LGA until 11:00, so I don't see myself waking up at 6am for the gym tomorrow. However, I'll get a workout in after my Holocaust class - probably around 9:00. It'll be a long day, but I don't want to go two days in a row without working out. (Well, I actually want to go infinity days in a row without working out, but you know what I mean.)

Well, the flight before mine that was delayed indefinitely has taken off, and my plane is at the gate. Passengers are deplaning now. We're supposed to take off in 10 mins, so it's looking like it won't be too delayed. It's a tiny plane - I wonder if gripping my armrests and agonozing over every bump and drop burns calories? Sure hope so . . .

Greetings from the Memphis airport, where - have a layover en route to Tallahassee (from whence I will continue on to my final destination, Valdosta, GA). I almost didn't make it to the gym this morning, but I eventually managed to drag my ass there for 45 mins of cardio. I avoided soda and cookies on my first flight - I just had water and a granola bar that I brought. I bought a chicken sandwich at the airport - probably should have asked them to hold the cheese and pesto (and bread), but it was good and still a better choice than the delicious-sounding pasta dishes.

Time to board the flight!

2nd visit with the nutritionist

Last night was my second meeting with the trainer. I'm still really bad at everything she had us do, but, DUH -- I've only really been going to the gym for a week. I kind of wish I was doing this on my own, instead of with the magazine, because this unrealistic deadline of a month is really getting me down. It is not enough time for anything! Maybe I'll lose a few pounds, but newsflash: I need to lose about 50 (yes, it's true, I'm admitting it), so it's not going to be all that noticeable in a month. I don't mean to say that I think NOTHING will happen -- my clothes are starting to feel a teeny-tiny bit looser, even though I'm barely seeing any changes on the scale and that's frustrating. But again, I've really only been doing this for a week, and it would be ridiculous to expect more. I'm just saying, that in a month, even if I get the best possible results, I'm still not going to look good in a bathing suit, and I need to be prepared for that. I can't let myself get frustrated and give up after that. Why the hell did they pick me for this? This plan is clearly for someone who just ate an extra cupcake during the winter. My only saving grace, or at least what I keep telling myself, is that they are trying to promote their workout and diet, so if I look like crap after having done what they told me for a month, maybe they won't put me on TV. The point is, I can't tell myself that this will all be over in a month, because it will barely have even begun at that point.

Anyway, working out with the trainer was tough, but even tougher was when she said that we should be doing an hour of cardio a day. If laughing hysterically and rolling my eyes counts as cardio, then I'm set for yesterday. I mean, seriously! I'm doing my best, but I have this thing called a job, and in theory I would like to have this other thing called fun, maybe just once in awhile, and working out for an hour a day doesn't really fit into that schedule. Because -- and this is what frustrates me more than anything -- it's never just an hour. Getting to the gym takes time, especially if I'm coming from work, since my office is essentially on a barge in the Hudson River and nowhere near civilization. And then after work, there's showering, washing my hair, and the dreaded blow-drying. Seriously, if I didn't have to blow-dry my hair, I would probably hate the gym 35-50% less. It takes forever. I usually don't do it everyday, but obviously I have to after an hour of cardio.

I'm trying to make time for the gym by going in the morning, but that's a huge challenge, since there is nothing in the world I like more than sleeping. Last time I woke up at 6am to go to the gym, I promptly went back to sleep. So last night I called my grandmother and requested a wake-up call for 6am, which worked. I did 45 minutes on the treadmill (accompanied by the Rock of Ages soundtrack -- very energizing), then came home to shower and get ready. That's another thing I hate -- showering/blow-drying/getting ready at the gym. First of all, that requires extended exposure to the naked old ladies who roam the dressing rooms. Second, it means I have to spend extra time packing clothes, make-up, shower stuff, etc. So I'm much more likely to go to the gym in the morning if I can go back home and get ready -- though still not very likely. I'll try to keep it up, but it is everything I hate -- waking up early, working out, blow-drying -- all at once and that's a lot.

The hotel I'm staying at this weekend has a gym, so I'll pack clothes and try to hit that up a few times. I'll also try and go tomorrow morning before my flight. It will probably mean waking up at 6am again, but maybe I'll sleep on the plane. I am going to try to go every day, but it's not always going to be easy. Another complication is that I simply do not own enough gym clothes to go every day! (And how am I supposed to have time to do laundry now?!!?) Old Navy is having a 30% off sale this weekend, maybe I'll get more stuff from them. Not that I have room in my apartment for it -- my drawers barely close as it is. (Clearly, in order to get in shape I need more money and a bigger apartment.)

Anyway, after going to the gym today, I met with the nutritionist for the second time and it was filmed. She looked at the Food Tracker I've been keeping and said it looks like I've been picking really good options, but that I could cut my morning snack to 80-120 calories and also give up my Skinny Cow ice cream a few nights a week. I tried to explain that those things are my reason for living. I told her I was nervous about the wedding this weekend, eating-wise, and told her my plan to stick to white wine spritzers or vodka and soda with a splash of cranberry. (I did not mention shots. But obviously they are the sensible, low-calorie option.) I got to say a lot more stuff on camera this time. I don't remember what it was anymore, but I'm sure it was terribly insightful. You'll have to wait and see.

Okay, it's taken me 4 hours to write this because I have been working and watching the Gators lose tragically in double overtime. I don't know if I have said anything coherent, but that's cool. Feel free not to read any of the above.

Not giving up (but still thinking this sucks)

For the record, I'm not giving up on this thing even though I am not seeing results as fast as I should be (ok, as fast as I WANT to). I made a commitment to stick with it for a month, and I'm going to. However, once it is over, I am so switching to Weight Watchers, which is much less restrictive and doesn't seem to be any less effective. Hopefully the end result of this, even if I don't lose a ton of weight, will be that it overhauls my eating so that I make better choices, snack less, and incorporate healthier options into any diet. I think that is the best I can ask for, and a worthy outcome. Though I would prefer to lose 10lbs, as well.

Today for lunch I had Qdoba tortilla soup and a chicken taco. That was on the list of take-out options I am allowed. Apparently it is 400 calories. I am set for dinner for awhile -- I went out to Brooklyn over the weekend and my grandmother helped me cook a large quantity of two healthy meal options (turkey meatballs and some spicy chicken) and then package them into individual portions. I have enough of that to last 2 weeks, easily. Good thing I don't get bored. Also, this was after my grandmother did my laundry. And took me for a manicure and pedicure. Thanks, Grandma!

[Side note: I realize that I always say "going OUT to Brooklyn" instead of "going to Brooklyn" when I talk about visiting my family. This is because the part of Brooklyn they live in is very far away, so it would be like saying "going out to Long Island." In my mind there are two Brooklyns -- the far away one, that my family lives in, and the one that is close to Manhattan and full of dirty, utterly reprehensible people. I try to avoid the latter, as I already am exposed to too many of its denizens during my work day. I get it, you have ironic facial hair because you are trying to make a statement, and that statement is, "I am ironic." Statement made, SHAVE YOUR FACE. Also, put on some different pants, I don't need to see the outline of your junk, though congrats on having it (I assume you want congratulations, or is there some other reason you are displaying it?). Hmmm . . . I am just noticing that most of my anger towards hipsters seems to be directed at the male of the species. Does that mean I am more accepting (less rejecting) of hipster females? Certainly not if they have face tattoos. But in general . . . I will have to think about that. And I will save the face tattoo rant for another day. I feel a little bad about that, because it's a GOOD one. But that is not the point of this blog.]

If I get out of work at a decent time today (by 6:00), I am going to the Beach Body class at the Crunch on 59th St. It's an hour long, which makes me nervous, since the last few gym classes I have tried to go to have resulted in me getting frustrated, quitting, and crying (not necessarily in that order) within 5 minutes. But it's required that I attend it once a week. (Of course, it would be easier to fulfill that requirement if it wasn't so freaking difficult for me to get to any of the class times/locations. Not that that's Crunch's or the magazine's fault. But really, who are these people who can make it to a class at 6:00? Or during lunch? And why isn't my job more like theirs?)

I've been avoiding alcohol entirely since this whole thing started -- just seemed the easiest route. I have turned down offers to go out for drinks, because why add calories I don't need when I am having a hard enough time? But this weekend I am going to a wedding, and I'm nervous about how that's going to go. I don't need to get wasted, but I would like to drink a little, and the rehearsal dinner involves karaoke, which possibly requires more than just drinking a little. So I'm looking into lower-calorie drink options. For example, if I don't eat anything all day, I can have 22 tequila shots. Okay, just kidding. I'm thinking white wine spritzers or vodka and soda with a splash of cranberry. I don't drink beer or any dark liquors, which is good, but avoiding delicious fruity cocktails could prove a challenge.

This is not working

I was feeling really good this weekend because I weighed myself Saturday morning and was down two pounds. Then I weighed myself this morning and I am back up the two pounds, exactly the same weight I was the morning before I went to the nutritionist for the first time. (I weighed more when she weighed me, but that was a different scale and it was during the day, when I had already eaten, and I was dressed.) So what is the fucking point of doing this? I did the best I could over the weekend. Sure, I ate in restaurants, but I didn't go crazy. I had half a chicken gyro wrap on whole wheat pita Saturday night, and on Sunday I had half a chicken shawarma pita for lunch and the other half for dinner. It's chicken -- how bad could it have been?? Also, both days this weekend I went to the gym, and really worked out hard for half an hour on the treadmill. (Which was a lot for me, but hardly enough to make the claim that I'm building muscle and that's why I'm not losing weight. Um, no. An hour total of cardio is not going to build any muscle.) So why should I do all that when I can go back to the way I was before and weigh exactly the same? This is fucking crap. It's officially been one week -- the other woman doing this lost 5 pounds in her first week, and that was without going to the gym. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I do that?

DANGER!!!!

A huge cheer just went up in my office, and when I turned to see what was going on, a co-worker was wheeling a giant cart full of the Girl Scout cookies we all ordered from him a month and a half ago. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. I am freaking out and decided to blog to remind myself if what I am doing. Maybe I will give my cookies (a box of Thin Mints and a box of Dulce de Leche -- a new kind) to someone to hold onto for the next month.

I have not been back to the gym since I met with the trainer on Tuesday, which I know is bad. I had fully planned on going this morning before work, but when my alarm went off at 6am this morning I said "fuck this" and chose to go back to sleep for 2 more hours. I don't regret that decision as much as I probably should. On Wednesday I was totally going to go after work but a friend from work was meeting friends at a bar a block from my apartment and I went with her instead because I so rarely have a traveling companion. We did walk most of the way -- from 12th Avenue to 2nd Avenue, which is a lot of avenues. Then when I got home I tried to work out to some DVDs I have, which did not go as well as I hoped. I am way too uncoordinated to follow their little routines, which made me frustrated and may or may not have (but definitely did) lead to some tears. So there I was, crying a little, spastically kicking and punching and lunging and squatting. Oh, and did I mention that since I live alone, I work out in my underwear? So the sight of that in my full-length mirror did not make things better. (Yeah, sorry for that mental image. But why bother getting clothes all sweaty?) But at least I was moving for half an hour, spazzy as it was.

I haven't seen any results yet, obviously, since it hasn't even been 5 days, but it's frustrating and I'm worried I am doing something wrong. Yesterday I went over to Dianna's for dinner, where she so graciously cooked for me (thanks D!). I had about 500 calories left, and I think my meal was within that, but it's so hard to know. I really need to just keep taking it one day at a time and stop worrying. I can't think about the big picture, and how long this will really take (the month is long enough, but of course it will take way longer than that to get where I want to be), or I will freak out and feel defeated. I just need to do the best I can do today. That's it.

Okay, now I have to go pee. I have been drinking a one-liter bottle of seltzer every single day, because I am supposed to drink more water (probably even more than that). In the past, I could easily go a whole day without drinking anything (other than my morning Grande Caramel Frappuccino Light, may it rest in peace). As a result, I almost never had to pee, which, frankly, I considered to be one of my best qualities. It made me AWESOME to travel with. Now, however, I have to pee every 5 minutes, which I find to be incredibly inefficient. SO ANNOYING.

Day 3 (Wednesday)

A lot has happened since yesterday! I couldn't leave work when I wanted to, so I wound up having to take a cab to the gym just to make it on time for my training session. I worked out with Janice, the other woman doing this makeover, and our personal trainer, Carol. It was rough, but I suppose that's the point. It was frustrating because there was a lot I couldn't do, so I think it will actually get harder before it gets easier, but again . . . I want it to work. We worked out for about an hour at the Crunch on Christopher Street. (I must say, I was disappointed in how un-gay it was. Wouldn't you think that a Crunch gym on Christopher Street would be as gay as it gets?! I was expecting sparkly pink weights and treadmills covered in sequins and fabulous men in very short shorts. Instead, everyone just looked . . . normal. Sad.) Carol tried to make it fun with a "beach-themed" workout, but she couldn't fool me -- it was still exercise. Janice is really nice, so I'll try not to begrudge the fact that she has already lost 5 pounds since starting the diet a week ago.

After working out last night, I went to the awesome Asian/Italian fusion place across from my apartment and got bison meatballs, hold the pasta. (Bison is incredibly lean, and there is spinach hidden in the meatballs, so that was a totally healthy choice.) I made myself a side salad to go with it. Hard to believe, I know, so I took a picture (right) as proof. My grandmother even told me an awesome trick -- grate carrots with a carrot peeler, and then add that to the salad instead of whole carrots. Carrot shreds are better than biting into a piece of carrot, and of course make the salad look very fancy, which should not be underestimated. I had a mini-Drumstick ice cream cone for dessert.

This morning, people from Better.tv, where this thing will be airing, came to film me in my apartment. It took longer to set up the camera than to do the actual interview -- that part took about 2 minutes. She just asked why I was doing this and what I expected to get out of it. Then they took a full-body "before" shot (fully-clothed!). The best part was when they wanted to film me against a solid background, like a wall or a door, but there was no way to do that in my apartment because every surface is covered with storage, and my apartment was too small for them to get a far enough shot against my closet. Sorry!

I ordered lunch from Baja Fresh today -- 2 chicken tacos and a side salad. It comes to about 550 calories, which is a little high for lunch, but I can have a light dinner to make up for it. And I am fully planning on going to the gym after work. I got a free 3-month pass to Crunch, so I canceled my Chelsea Piers membership. If nothing else, I can at least save a little money! I was pretty excited about it because Crunch is supposed to be nice, but I wasn't that impressed with the Christopher Street location (lack of gayness aside). It was kind of small and the locker rooms were really dingy. But they have some really interesting-sounding classes, and hopefully some of the other locations are nicer. There's one not too far from me, on Lafayette and 5th. I'm supposed to work out with the trainer once a week (for 3 more weeks), attend the Beach Body class once a week (which will probably have to be on Saturday mornings, since I doubt I'll make it after work), and do cardio 3x a week (can be the same day I work with the trainer/go to the class). It's a lot! I'm going to have to cancel all my plans for the next month if I'm going to make it to the gym enough.

Had Energy Kitchen for lunch. It doesn't taste as good as real food, but is still so much better than a salad. I may do that every day for the next month.

I have my first meeting with the personal trainer at 6:30 -- of course, that's assuming I can get out of work by 6:00. I worked til 8:45 last night so I wouldn't feel bad (or look bad) leaving at 6:00 today, but of course that has no bearing on how much I need to get done before I can leave today. Not in a good mood. Won't my personal trainer love me?

Day 1

Today's the official first day of this thing, and I'm already feeling very defeated. This weekend wasn't so great, which I suppose isn't hugely surprising since my strategy was basically "Sleep all day so you can't eat." I don't think I ate anything insane, but I certainly didn't keep track. I went grocery shopping again, and tried to buy healthy stuff, but what good does it do if I can't make myself eat it? There is a container of cherry tomatoes, probably my least-hated vegetable (if you can call it a vegetable), that has been in my fridge for almost a week and will probably just go bad because I don't want to eat them. I would rather just not eat.

I've been as good as I could be today, and it just feels like it's not enough. Yesterday I baked Whole-Grain Banana Muffins(the recipe is on my official diet plan), and I had one for breakfast despite the fact that it tasted like glue. And apparently it's about 250 calories! WTF?! My Grande Caramel Light Frappucino, which I used to have every fucking morning for breakfast and miss dearly, is only 160 calories! And it does not taste like glue.

I had a package of carrot sticks and ranch dip for a mid-morning snack, which was 90 calories, and at that point I was feeling pretty good about myself. (Though my body was feeling sad because it ate carrots.) I ordered lunch from Energy Kitchen again, a turkey burger with low-fat mozzarella, which came to 390 calories, and then had a Kashi granola bar for a snack -- 180 calories. That seems like a lot of calories for a snack, but Kashi granola bars are pretty much the only kind I am allowed to eat. So now I have about 600 calories left for the rest of the day, and it's only 4:00. I guess that's a decent amount for dinner and dessert, but I really can't snack anymore today. Unless I eat those damn tomatoes, which again -- I would just rather not eat.

Tomorrow I meet with the trainer for the first time. Won't that be fun? (No. It will not be. Considering every time I try to work out with a trainer or take a class, I get too out of breath, it's too hard, I get frustrated, start to cry, and have to leave. Awesome.)

Friday, 3/5 - Energy Kitchen & Free Clothes!

It's lunchtime and I'm not all that hungry. All I've had so far today is 28 pieces of Kashi Cinnamon Harvest cereal (dry, of course -- it is beyond me why people put milk on cereal). Really, that is the serving size, so I counted it out. I guess I should go down and get lunch, but I think my body is pretending not to be hungry because it would rather starve than eat another salad. I don't blame it. I woke up this morning not feeling so great, and I genuinely believe it is because my digestive system has no idea what to do with fruits and vegetables.

I think I'll check out the Energy Kitchen menu and see if I can get something delivered. Everything they serve is under 500 calories. Which is probably why I've never really wanted to go there.

Ok, back! I place an order. This actually sounds good:
Buffalo Chicken Burger - 378 calories
Garden Salad - 12 calories
Homestyle Potatoes - 104 calories

I guess I should be grateful for that stupid law that NYC restaurants have to post their calorie count. A little high for a lunch, but at least I'm getting the salad in there (and potatoes are a vegetable . . . sort of), and my breakfast was only 180 calories. I wonder if I am allowed to order from Energy Kitchen every single day?

And now for the fun part . . . last night I went over to the offices of the magazine that is running this thing (I'm not saying their name because I haven't told them about this blog) to get a cute workout outfit for when they film my personal training session, and to pick out the bathing suit I am supposed to wear at the end of this. Okay, "fun" might not be the right adjective -- I'll admit, it was a little traumatic. But THANK GOD I was given one-piece bathing suit options instead of bikinis. Don't get me wrong, I still totally want to get to a point where I can wear a bikini in public (or even in private) again, but there's no way I'll get there in a month. So I'm feeling a lot more realistic about this thing.

Here's what I got:
A pair of black workout pants with a turquoise band at the top, a turquoise tank, and sneakers with turquoise trim! So matchy-matchy -- I know Michael Kors would disapprove, but it's cute! (These are pics from the Internet -- that is most definitely not me IN the pants. Couldn't find a pic of the top online.)



And now for the bathing suit . . . I actually got two different options, because the Fashion Editor and I had different favorites and she told me to take both home (actually, I only took one home -- they are getting the other one in a different size and messengering it to me next week). Here's the suit I got, except the top of mine is lavender instead of pink (again, NOT modeled by me):
I liked this one, but I also tried on an all-purple one that she said was much younger-looking, and I see what she's saying, this one is a little matronly. I forget who makes the purple one, so when they send it to me I'll find a pic online and share it. I'll wait and see how they both look when this whole nonsense is over, and then choose one for my big TV debut.

Okay, it's taken me so long to write this (while taking frequent breaks to do actual work) that my lunch is not only here but getting cold. Going to eat it.

I had a soda

I did. A Sunkist. And it was freaking awesome and made me SO happy and I don't feel bad about it at all. (Also, Sunkist is now a client of McGarryBowen, so it was free, and I am supporting my company and should get a bonus. Everyone, drink Sunkist!)

But I am not going to make it a habit, and I'm taking the number of calories in it (190) into account.

So I can stop worrying about eating too much, I've started tracking the number of calories in everything, with help from nutritiondata.com. (Thanks, Autumn!) So far I am at 815 for the day, and I get 1500. That seems right on track for 1:45pm, I think. My salad was ~325 calories. Looks like that'll be my lunch every day for a month.

Today after work I'm going to the magazine office to meet with their stylist and get a new workout outfit, and also pick out the bikini I'm supposed to look good in when this thing is all over. I'm still a little skeptical (okay, completely disbelieving) that I will be anywhere near ready to wear a bikini in full view of other human beings at the end of the month, for the record. Even if I lose 10lbs, which would be a freaking awesome achievement, I can't imagine that making much of a difference. But no use worrying about that yet. (Who am I kidding? OF COURSE I'm worrying about that, 24/7, from now on.)

Salad

I am trying very, very hard to make myself eat this salad (mixed greens, cherry tomatoes, carrot, onions, a little bit of feta, balsamic vinaigrette). I am sad about it.

This is not going to work . . .

Ok, so my jeans felt really tight this morning, and while I know I've only been doing this for one day (not even), it got me to thinking that there is a very real possibility that I could GAIN weight doing this fucking thing. I'm used to Weight Watchers, where you get a certain allotment of points for the day, and everything you eat has a points value, and you just tally it. That's hard enough, but on this "plan" that I'm on, which is essentially "eat healthy shit," how am I supposed to know if I've have more than I'm allowed for a day? I mean, I know I am supposed to eat a lot of fruits and vegetables, but fruit has a lot of calories, and I only get 1500 calories per day. How the fuck do I know how many calories are in the fucking salad I am about to go get for lunch (and that I am getting depressed just thinking about)?

Fuck fuck fuck. I want to quit.

Wednesday, 3/3 (T minus 5 days)

So I went grocery shopping after work and the gym last night, so I could get on the right track. The diet officially starts Monday, but it started unofficially today -- well, after breakfast, which consisted of chocolate-filled Hamentashen, which doesn't even count because it is practically a religious observance. After that, I ate:

Lunch: 6 steamed chicken and basil dumplings with peanut sauce, side of edamame (that counts as a vegetable!!!), small bunch of grapes

Snack: Apple

Snack: 1 Laughing Cow cheese

Dinner: Bison meatballs and a cup of pasta with tomato sauce

Snack: Small low-fat ice cream cone

That seems to be following the plan, though what worries me is there isn't really a way to track it. I'm used to Weight Watchers, where everything has a point value, and you know how many points you get a day, and you write it all down. Now, I'm not totally sure if I stayed within my allotted calories, went over them, or what.

I definitely failed at drinking enough water today. On a normal day, I could go the whole day drinking nothing by my morning Frappucino. Yes, I know it's bad, but it makes me great to travel with because I never have to pee. Now, I'm supposed to drink 1-2 Liters of water a day. I bought a 1.5-Liter bottle, and drank it all yesterday, but was not as successful today. I think part of the problem is the thing is too damn heavy to lift to my mouth. I'll try a smaller bottle tomorrow.

Did not make it to the gym today, as I worked til almost 9:00.

The Nutritionist

Yesterday I met with the nutritionist for the first time, to try to formulate an eating plan based on the diet provided by the magazine (4 pages of recipes that I won't eat). How did it go? Well, I think the fact that I waited until I LEFT her office to start crying hysterically was a big win for me.

Basically, on this new plan, I need to cut out all the foods I regular eat. I've been following Weight Watchers on and off, and had gotten into a routine of a Starbucks Grande Caramel Light Frappucino for breakfast (it's light so not that many calories), a Lean Cuisine for lunch, 100-calorie snack packs in between meals, and either picking up dinner on my way home or throwing together something that requires minimal effort. All of that is out. She basically doesn't want me eating any processed foods, which is frustrating. I hate those people who get on their high horse about how bad processed foods are, and how only raw and organic foods are worth eating, and blah blah blah. Whatever. Good luck cooking all that in your yurt. In Williamsburg.

To be perfectly honest, the nutritionist didn't tell me anything I didn't already know -- I need to eat more fruits and vegetables, drink more water, eat smaller portions, not snack mindlessly -- at it's core, this stuff is common sense. But if it were easy for me, I'd already be doing it. It's really freaking hard -- for everyone, sure, but especially for me because I am not a normal human being.

I don't think I am accurately capturing the extent of my freakout after meeting with this nutritionist. It was bad. And I'm still freaked out. It's basically changing everything about the way I eat, all at once. The biggest part of me wants to say, Fuck this shit. But a tiny part of me is convincing me to stick with it (ok, that part is my ass, and it's not exactly tiny). So here goes . . . something. For the magazine's purposes, this officially starts next week, but I'm going to try changing my eating habits starting today, and just take it one day at a time. What the hell else can I do?

The Background

I'm participating in a "Bikini Body Makeover" run by a magazine. (It was originally pitched to me as "getting your butt in shape for bikini season," which is how it became known as my Ass Makeover.) It's myself and another woman, and thankfully won't actually run in the magazine, just on their online channel. They're hooking me up with a nutritionist and a trainer for a month, and at the end of it, I'm apparently supposed be able to put on a bikini without anyone around me vomiting. Um, we'll see.

I am skeptical beyond belief about my ability to do this. For one thing, I HATE to exercise. In my opinion, the only good workout is one where you leave the gym skinnier than you were when you got there -- and that has never happened. I'm also in really bad shape -- when I do work out, I start breathing so heavily that people ask me if I have asthma, or if I'm a smoker. Hot. (For the record, I've been to two cardiologists, and both said there's nothing wrong with my heart -- I'm just out of shape.)

But even bigger than the working out issue is the food issue. As everyone reading this surely knows, to say I am a picky eater would be an understatement. The list of foods I don't eat is a long one, and includes: vegetables, fish/seafood, yogurt, eggs, beans, oatmeal, pork . . . you get the idea. It's very frustrating to me, and further complicating that is the fact that people seem to not get that I cannot eat these foods. Ok, sure, I CAN eat them, but I would literally be forcing food down my throat. I try to explain that everyone has foods that they don't like and couldn't possibly eat without gagging -- I just happen to have a longer list of those foods.

So that's me. I don't eat healthy foods, I don't like to work out, and I'm participating in a Bikini Body Makeover. I am freaking out beyond belief.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.