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).