I treated myself to brunch at one of my favorite places in the neighborhood today. A cute, super-casual diner by the subway, with hot food and fresh-squeezed juices. It's the perfect place to eat a healthy and filling brunch on a crisp, sunny Saturday morning.
As I happily munched on my egg-white, spinach and tomato omelette (with dry rye toast and a few bites of the incredibly delicious potatoes that accompanied it) a man came in and sat down with his newspaper. He was a large man, not much older than me, and the waiter knew automatically what he wanted. I casually watched this man as the waiter brought him an iced coffee, to which he added 5 packets of sugar and a good couple of tablespoons of cream. He was then delivered a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, 2 huge sausages, and scrambled eggs with cheese. He ate quickly and seemed more focused on his paper than on what he was eating.
This man was striking for two reasons. The first of which was the reminder that THAT USED TO BE ME. Not so long ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about ordering a breakfast like that, telling myself that it was good food and I'd do better later. The second was much more judgemental, in that I wanted to go over to him and beg him to change his ways and save his life. His breakfast was probably well over 2,000 calories and had so little nutritional value. I wanted to tell him my story and how his life could be so different if he'd just open himself up to the possibilities of healthy living. I wanted to show him what a healthy, productive life he could live if only he'd swap his food choices for healthier ones. I wanted to tell him that it's okay to love and take care of himself, despite what the rest of the world might say or think.
I feel awful for judging this person based on one meal, especially because we all indulge on occasion. What if Saturday is his one day of eating exactly as he wants to? What if he's perfectly healthy and happy and content just how he is? What if he's tried and tried to change his ways, and life just prevents him from doing so? What if he already feels terrible enough as it is, and me rubbing it in his face is just another source of pain from the outside world?
I've learned through the years that you can't change people, and you can't make them do something against their will. I wouldn't have said anything to this man even if I hadn't learned that lesson, but I feel kind of bad for feeling bad for him. I sometimes don't realize how much things have changed in the last couple of years, so sometimes it shocks me to see how people live and eat. I wish I could help everyone to love to eat fresh, healthy foods like I do, but I know I can't.
And I also know I'm not a saint. I know I'm no better than that man at the diner today. I slip up, I make many mistakes, and I'm not always as healthy as I claim to be.
But I know where I've been, and I know where I'm going, even if I don't always know where I am at the present moment.
Maybe that man at the diner knew where he was at the moment; just enjoying his breakfast, without concern for the future or the consequences of eating it.
Sometimes I wish I could do that.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
It's been awhile since I've posted here. I can't really tell you why, except for the fact that I just haven't felt pulled to this space lately. I don't know if it's because my eating habits have been less than stellar, or because I've just been too busy to think about things, or if something deeper is keeping me away. I have lots of thoughts, lots to catch up on, though I feel the need to move forward than reflect on what's already happened.
Today in my voice lesson I became incredibly frustrated as I tried to hold my body up correctly, re-teach myself to sing a piece I know well for an important audition this weekend, and incorporate all of the vocal technique my teacher has worked so hard to teach me. After the lesson, I sat in the ladies room crying over the fact that I was completely overwhelmed by it all.
I realized that it was more than just overwhelm--it was a feeling of not having a clue who I am. I feel like I'm in this body that feels so unfamiliar and is so ugly (all this extra skin is really starting to get to me.) More than that, I don't see this body when I look in the mirror; I see the person I was 18 months ago, before I lost any weight. It's very confusing to see the opposite of what you are in the present moment, especially when you know others are looking at you in a completely different way. It's almost like a loss of control over how I put myself out to the world; as much as I try to dress and stand proudly, how is the world going to perceive me when on the inside I still feel like that 300 pound woman?
As my singing has changed in response to this new body, I've basically had to re-learn how to sing. Music has always been my saving grace, the one place I've been confident and comfortable, and now I have no idea who I am as a singer. It's frustrating and dizzying to lose that confidence in myself, particularly at a time like this.
I keep searching to find out who I am and what I am supposed to be. I keep planning for the future and ironing out the past while still feeling totally confused about my present. I'm waiting for God to show me how and what God wants me to be...I just wish I could figure it all out already.
This Sunday we are all auditioning for new pulpits for next year. It's an awful market for cantors right now, as several of the regular student pulpits have withdrawn their applications due to the crappy economy. There are roughly 16 jobs for the 20 of us who are searching, so it's inevitable that some of us won't get jobs next year. I'm applying for several positions, but the one I want is at one of the biggest congregations in NYC. My chances of actually getting the job are tiny, as I am applying with the brightest and the best that HUC has to offer.
I really wanted to go into these interviews confident and proud, though I'm not entirely sure I can do that after today's lesson. I need to work next year, so I'm hoping and praying these rabbis and cantors will find something in me that I don't see so well in myself.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Today in my voice lesson I became incredibly frustrated as I tried to hold my body up correctly, re-teach myself to sing a piece I know well for an important audition this weekend, and incorporate all of the vocal technique my teacher has worked so hard to teach me. After the lesson, I sat in the ladies room crying over the fact that I was completely overwhelmed by it all.
I realized that it was more than just overwhelm--it was a feeling of not having a clue who I am. I feel like I'm in this body that feels so unfamiliar and is so ugly (all this extra skin is really starting to get to me.) More than that, I don't see this body when I look in the mirror; I see the person I was 18 months ago, before I lost any weight. It's very confusing to see the opposite of what you are in the present moment, especially when you know others are looking at you in a completely different way. It's almost like a loss of control over how I put myself out to the world; as much as I try to dress and stand proudly, how is the world going to perceive me when on the inside I still feel like that 300 pound woman?
As my singing has changed in response to this new body, I've basically had to re-learn how to sing. Music has always been my saving grace, the one place I've been confident and comfortable, and now I have no idea who I am as a singer. It's frustrating and dizzying to lose that confidence in myself, particularly at a time like this.
I keep searching to find out who I am and what I am supposed to be. I keep planning for the future and ironing out the past while still feeling totally confused about my present. I'm waiting for God to show me how and what God wants me to be...I just wish I could figure it all out already.
This Sunday we are all auditioning for new pulpits for next year. It's an awful market for cantors right now, as several of the regular student pulpits have withdrawn their applications due to the crappy economy. There are roughly 16 jobs for the 20 of us who are searching, so it's inevitable that some of us won't get jobs next year. I'm applying for several positions, but the one I want is at one of the biggest congregations in NYC. My chances of actually getting the job are tiny, as I am applying with the brightest and the best that HUC has to offer.
I really wanted to go into these interviews confident and proud, though I'm not entirely sure I can do that after today's lesson. I need to work next year, so I'm hoping and praying these rabbis and cantors will find something in me that I don't see so well in myself.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
The mouse is gone.
At least for now.
My brother was here until yesterday, helping me to mouse-proof my apartment and kill the one that was driving me crazy the last few weeks. Thank God he was here and helped me to catch the sucker.
But I'm still afraid to go into my kitchen, especially at night. My super never came to repair the holes all over my kitchen walls that are letting the damn mice in. I'll make sure he does eventually, but until then, my kitchen is an uncomfy place to be.
It's so strange, this feeling of being"on-guard" all the time.
Of feeling like you're paranoid, like someone or something is out to get you at all times, like the other shoe is just waiting to drop.
I feel the weight of all of this tension all over my body, especially in my shoulders.
I am unable to relax, to trust anything or anyone, especially myself.
Today, I was looking for something at the Walgreens in Times Square. As I was walking out, a man tripped and reached for my shopping bags to catch himself.
But I thought he was reaching into my bags to steal the new shoes I'd just purchased, and I whipped my bags away, causing him to fall to the ground.
This man happened to be African American, and I'm sure he thought I was scared of him only because he was black and therefore, trying to steal from me.
I apologized profusely as soon as I realized exactly what had happened, knowing that I would have done it no matter the person who tripped in that moment.
I felt awful afterwards, and realized just then how jumpy I've been lately.
How I can't seem to just be.
I'm no stranger to anxiety issues, but this is a completely different set. I've never felt this paranoid before; the other times, it was much more physical and a different kind of emotional, where I just couldn't calm myself down.
Now, I'm totally calm, but carry the weight of the city on my shoulders.
I feel the tension all over my body, from my jaw to my toes.
My voice teacher and I have had to work extra hard to help my face and upper body muscles to relax for other reasons, and all of that hard work is going out the window.
I began taking private Feldenkrais lessons last week, with my wonderful music theory professor who happens to be a Feldenkrais practitioner.
I'm hoping he can help me to relax and remind me how my body is naturally supposed to feel.
At our first lesson, I learned exactly what tension feels like and where I tend to hold it (seems like common sense, huh? I was surprised at how easy it is to just ignore the tension that's always there, because we don't know any different.)
And how certain parts of my body respond negatively to touch, causing tension in muscles that wouldn't otherwise hold it.
I'm hoping and praying this helps me to learn to feel tension and therefore release it.
And also help me to find inner poise and calm.
I'm thinking about seeing a therapist again, perhaps someone who can put me on some anti-anxiety meds.
I hate to go back on anxiety medications, but if they might help, I'm willing to try them again.
At some point in time, I will need to learn how to survive living here.
I'm playing with the idea that I might never be happy in this city.
Can I be content with discontent?
Can letting myself not feel bad about feeling bad allow me to just BE?
Or will it just invite more negativity in, causing more unhappiness?
The funny thing about being on-guard all the time is that it's almost fun to choose certain things to be off-guard towards.
Like eating, for example.
My "fuck-it-all" attitude towards food has been rearing it's ugly head lately.
For example, I had pizza, a beer, a cookie AND a piece of cheesecake for dinner the other night, after inhaling a falafel bowl and birthday cake for lunch earlier that day.
It feels good to let go of something when everything else seems to be so hard to let go of.
Funny how for me, it's food and my good habits.
Makes total sense, though I wish I could choose to let go of some of this paranoia instead.
But, no matter how many mantras I say, or how many mice I kill, I can't let it go.
How do you let positivity back in when negativity so easily fills your home and body and mind?
At least for now.
My brother was here until yesterday, helping me to mouse-proof my apartment and kill the one that was driving me crazy the last few weeks. Thank God he was here and helped me to catch the sucker.
But I'm still afraid to go into my kitchen, especially at night. My super never came to repair the holes all over my kitchen walls that are letting the damn mice in. I'll make sure he does eventually, but until then, my kitchen is an uncomfy place to be.
It's so strange, this feeling of being"on-guard" all the time.
Of feeling like you're paranoid, like someone or something is out to get you at all times, like the other shoe is just waiting to drop.
I feel the weight of all of this tension all over my body, especially in my shoulders.
I am unable to relax, to trust anything or anyone, especially myself.
Today, I was looking for something at the Walgreens in Times Square. As I was walking out, a man tripped and reached for my shopping bags to catch himself.
But I thought he was reaching into my bags to steal the new shoes I'd just purchased, and I whipped my bags away, causing him to fall to the ground.
This man happened to be African American, and I'm sure he thought I was scared of him only because he was black and therefore, trying to steal from me.
I apologized profusely as soon as I realized exactly what had happened, knowing that I would have done it no matter the person who tripped in that moment.
I felt awful afterwards, and realized just then how jumpy I've been lately.
How I can't seem to just be.
I'm no stranger to anxiety issues, but this is a completely different set. I've never felt this paranoid before; the other times, it was much more physical and a different kind of emotional, where I just couldn't calm myself down.
Now, I'm totally calm, but carry the weight of the city on my shoulders.
I feel the tension all over my body, from my jaw to my toes.
My voice teacher and I have had to work extra hard to help my face and upper body muscles to relax for other reasons, and all of that hard work is going out the window.
I began taking private Feldenkrais lessons last week, with my wonderful music theory professor who happens to be a Feldenkrais practitioner.
I'm hoping he can help me to relax and remind me how my body is naturally supposed to feel.
At our first lesson, I learned exactly what tension feels like and where I tend to hold it (seems like common sense, huh? I was surprised at how easy it is to just ignore the tension that's always there, because we don't know any different.)
And how certain parts of my body respond negatively to touch, causing tension in muscles that wouldn't otherwise hold it.
I'm hoping and praying this helps me to learn to feel tension and therefore release it.
And also help me to find inner poise and calm.
I'm thinking about seeing a therapist again, perhaps someone who can put me on some anti-anxiety meds.
I hate to go back on anxiety medications, but if they might help, I'm willing to try them again.
At some point in time, I will need to learn how to survive living here.
I'm playing with the idea that I might never be happy in this city.
Can I be content with discontent?
Can letting myself not feel bad about feeling bad allow me to just BE?
Or will it just invite more negativity in, causing more unhappiness?
The funny thing about being on-guard all the time is that it's almost fun to choose certain things to be off-guard towards.
Like eating, for example.
My "fuck-it-all" attitude towards food has been rearing it's ugly head lately.
For example, I had pizza, a beer, a cookie AND a piece of cheesecake for dinner the other night, after inhaling a falafel bowl and birthday cake for lunch earlier that day.
It feels good to let go of something when everything else seems to be so hard to let go of.
Funny how for me, it's food and my good habits.
Makes total sense, though I wish I could choose to let go of some of this paranoia instead.
But, no matter how many mantras I say, or how many mice I kill, I can't let it go.
How do you let positivity back in when negativity so easily fills your home and body and mind?
Friday, February 13, 2009
Of Mice and Women
I have mice in my kitchen.
And I want them gone.
These tiny little mice are taking over my life and my sanity. I know I'm letting them do it. I know I can control both the mice and how I respond to them. Yes, I know that I am slightly bigger than these mice that weigh no more than 2 ounces. And yes, I know that they are more afraid of me than I am of them and I need to just get over it and live my life already.
I've discovered this week that I am insanely afraid of mice.
Whenever I see one running along the wall I freak out, and my ability to accomplish anything in the hours that follow is almost completely diminished.
They are keeping me out of my kitchen, and probably making the Chinese food restaurant happy to know me.
I haven't cooked a meal in my kitchen in over a week.
I love to cook, and I feel like a part of my identity has been taken away.
I haven't felt safe in my own home in over a week, and I have yet to let my guard down and truly relax.
I haven't been sleeping well and my emotions are running high.
I'm doing surprisingly well with my eating, ordering a lot salads and steamed chicken and veggies from the Chinese place that loves me so much.
And the damn mice keep me out of my kitchen pretty much all of the time, so I'm not mindlessly munching away on food I don't really need.
I guess that's the good thing that's come out of this.
But I can't order food forever, for the sake of my wallet and my sanity I need to be cooking again.
I tried that tonight, until I saw a mouse stuck to the glue traps the exterminator set out today.
I didn't realize I'd be the one to actually kill the damn things, and I was looking for the most humane method possible, so I doused it with 409 cleaner.
Stupid me, that only allowed the mouse to free itself and run under my sink.
And then I freaked out, had an anxiety attack, and have been hiding in my bedroom ever since.
These goddamn mice are a constant reminder of how much I hate living in this city.
And how bitter I am that the rabbinical students have some say in where they can go, while cantorial students are forced to come to this hellhole of a city, go into debt simply to have a roof over our heads, and deal with bullshit like this.
It makes me angry and miserable.
I had a breakdown in t'fillah yesterday, partly because of the mice, partly because it's been a shitty week overall.
My favorite professor chewed me out over some pieces I sang in class, pieces I thought I sang well.
I looked like a moron conducting in choir the other day, screwing up my patterns and stumbling my words like I always do because I can't speak for shit.
I turned to the wrong page as I was sight-singing in music theory, causing the girls to laugh at me. They thought it was in fun, and I laughed to look like I was laughing with them when I actually felt like a total loser.
My mom tried to get me to come home for the long weekend, and then guilt tripped me up the wazoo when I told her why I couldn't. (Now I wish I had, of course.)
I wonder sometimes if I'll ever feel safe here.
If I'll ever feel at home.
If I'll ever have anyone else here besides me.
If I'll decide to give up this space and my independence and move to Brooklyn to be closer to everyone else.
If I'll ever be able to let my guard down and relax again.
Right now, I just want to go home and be with my family and crazy little dog.
Or transfer to Cincinnati and become a rabbinical student (this isn't the first time I've thought about it...not at all because I want to be a rabbi, but because I don't want to commit myself to 3 more years in this hellhole...probably not a good enough reason to switch programs.)
Dave commented on one of my earlier posts that he'd meet me in Times Square when hell freezes over.
Well, Dave, NYC is hell, and it's pretty damn cold here, so I'll meet you there in a few.
Fucking mice.
And I want them gone.
These tiny little mice are taking over my life and my sanity. I know I'm letting them do it. I know I can control both the mice and how I respond to them. Yes, I know that I am slightly bigger than these mice that weigh no more than 2 ounces. And yes, I know that they are more afraid of me than I am of them and I need to just get over it and live my life already.
I've discovered this week that I am insanely afraid of mice.
Whenever I see one running along the wall I freak out, and my ability to accomplish anything in the hours that follow is almost completely diminished.
They are keeping me out of my kitchen, and probably making the Chinese food restaurant happy to know me.
I haven't cooked a meal in my kitchen in over a week.
I love to cook, and I feel like a part of my identity has been taken away.
I haven't felt safe in my own home in over a week, and I have yet to let my guard down and truly relax.
I haven't been sleeping well and my emotions are running high.
I'm doing surprisingly well with my eating, ordering a lot salads and steamed chicken and veggies from the Chinese place that loves me so much.
And the damn mice keep me out of my kitchen pretty much all of the time, so I'm not mindlessly munching away on food I don't really need.
I guess that's the good thing that's come out of this.
But I can't order food forever, for the sake of my wallet and my sanity I need to be cooking again.
I tried that tonight, until I saw a mouse stuck to the glue traps the exterminator set out today.
I didn't realize I'd be the one to actually kill the damn things, and I was looking for the most humane method possible, so I doused it with 409 cleaner.
Stupid me, that only allowed the mouse to free itself and run under my sink.
And then I freaked out, had an anxiety attack, and have been hiding in my bedroom ever since.
These goddamn mice are a constant reminder of how much I hate living in this city.
And how bitter I am that the rabbinical students have some say in where they can go, while cantorial students are forced to come to this hellhole of a city, go into debt simply to have a roof over our heads, and deal with bullshit like this.
It makes me angry and miserable.
I had a breakdown in t'fillah yesterday, partly because of the mice, partly because it's been a shitty week overall.
My favorite professor chewed me out over some pieces I sang in class, pieces I thought I sang well.
I looked like a moron conducting in choir the other day, screwing up my patterns and stumbling my words like I always do because I can't speak for shit.
I turned to the wrong page as I was sight-singing in music theory, causing the girls to laugh at me. They thought it was in fun, and I laughed to look like I was laughing with them when I actually felt like a total loser.
My mom tried to get me to come home for the long weekend, and then guilt tripped me up the wazoo when I told her why I couldn't. (Now I wish I had, of course.)
I wonder sometimes if I'll ever feel safe here.
If I'll ever feel at home.
If I'll ever have anyone else here besides me.
If I'll decide to give up this space and my independence and move to Brooklyn to be closer to everyone else.
If I'll ever be able to let my guard down and relax again.
Right now, I just want to go home and be with my family and crazy little dog.
Or transfer to Cincinnati and become a rabbinical student (this isn't the first time I've thought about it...not at all because I want to be a rabbi, but because I don't want to commit myself to 3 more years in this hellhole...probably not a good enough reason to switch programs.)
Dave commented on one of my earlier posts that he'd meet me in Times Square when hell freezes over.
Well, Dave, NYC is hell, and it's pretty damn cold here, so I'll meet you there in a few.
Fucking mice.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
WTF?
After posting last night, I decided to step on the scale again. It was a number that was 4lbs higher than I wanted it to be.
I weighed myself again this morning, just to see what happens, and I weighed exactly 4lbs less than I did last night.
I know you weigh less in the morning than you do at night...but 4lbs less? I'm wearing the same exact clothes (I weighed myself in my PJ's last night and this morning.) I know I haven't eaten yet today, but still...weird...
Maybe it's just my scale? I'll be pissed if that's the case, considering I paid a hefty price for that scale.
I also went to sleep last night feeling like a terrible, horrible person for gaining 4 more pounds. I'm starting to feel like I did when I was a child, after a bad WW meeting or a scolding from my grandpa. All I could think about as I was trying to fall asleep were ridiculous ways to lose that weight and then some. I'd never try any of what I thought about, but it's scary to know I'm thinking about it at all.
Maybe I need a shrink?
I'm going to try really hard to be gentle with myself, to tell myself that my body is still readjusting from vacation and time away from it's normal routine and lifestyle. It's really, really hard, however, as I discovered last night. I've been in this place before, where I've gained a little and let it discourage me enough to gain it all back. I don't want to be in that place again, especially after so much hard work and dedication to this.
And the fact that I love and respect myself in a way I never have before...I don't want to lose that.
I also realized that--as of last night's numbers--I've gained back 7.4% of the 100lbs I've lost. That's a big number and it makes me feel awful.
I weighed myself again this morning, just to see what happens, and I weighed exactly 4lbs less than I did last night.
I know you weigh less in the morning than you do at night...but 4lbs less? I'm wearing the same exact clothes (I weighed myself in my PJ's last night and this morning.) I know I haven't eaten yet today, but still...weird...
Maybe it's just my scale? I'll be pissed if that's the case, considering I paid a hefty price for that scale.
I also went to sleep last night feeling like a terrible, horrible person for gaining 4 more pounds. I'm starting to feel like I did when I was a child, after a bad WW meeting or a scolding from my grandpa. All I could think about as I was trying to fall asleep were ridiculous ways to lose that weight and then some. I'd never try any of what I thought about, but it's scary to know I'm thinking about it at all.
Maybe I need a shrink?
I'm going to try really hard to be gentle with myself, to tell myself that my body is still readjusting from vacation and time away from it's normal routine and lifestyle. It's really, really hard, however, as I discovered last night. I've been in this place before, where I've gained a little and let it discourage me enough to gain it all back. I don't want to be in that place again, especially after so much hard work and dedication to this.
And the fact that I love and respect myself in a way I never have before...I don't want to lose that.
I also realized that--as of last night's numbers--I've gained back 7.4% of the 100lbs I've lost. That's a big number and it makes me feel awful.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Realizations
Sugar is addicting, as are refined carbohydrates. I'd done so well at removing them from my diet the last year and a half that it's taken me nearly 2 months to get out of the habit of eating them every single day. Over winter break and on my vacation I might as well have poured a big bag of sugar down my throat--between cookies, chocolate, fancy desserts at every meal, pastiries--I was a walking 238 pound bag of sugar.
Thank goodness my body is back to the point where I'm not craving sweets ALL THE TIME.
The other big news? I stepped the scale for the first time since November. I went up 3.4 pounds, which, while rather sucky, is better than I'd anticipated. I should mention that it took every ounce of courage in my body to step on that scale. I felt like I was back in elementary school again, when the gym teachers were recording our heights and weights and body fat percentage. Torturous.
I'm also in the process of trying to figure out how to get off my ass and move a little. I'm very conflicted over this, as I have several choices and all of them have pros and cons. Here's a list:
NYU Gym
PROS: It's CHEAP--$100/semester. It's also close to school, meaning I could go before/after school when I'm not working
CONS: It's close to school, meaning it isn't close to home and I wouldn't go on my days off. It's also kinda shady, and the other NYU gym is farther away, meaning I'd never go. It's also full of college kids, including the sorostitute-types that used to laugh at me when I'd hit the gym in college.
CURVES
PROS: It's on my block. It's also women-only, with women of every shape, size, age, nationality, etc. I'm familiar with it, as I was a member in St Louis before I started school.
CONS: It's EXPENSIVE. $75 registration fee and $50/month if I sign up for 12 months. It also doesn't seem like the kind of workout I'm looking for, but I don't really know what I'm talking about in that department. The hours aren't always convenient.
FELDENKRAIS
PROS: For my singing, it's exactly what I need to be doing right now. I also think it'd be extremely helpful for my inner-poise and confidence, and it's amazingly relaxing. My music theory professor, who is adorable, would be one of my teachers.
CONS: It's also very expensive, much more so than Curves. It isn't really a "workout", which means I'd have to implement it with something else. It's addicting, meaning I'd have to keep shelling out the bucks if I want to continue.
What is a fat girl to do when she is addicted to sugar and can't make up her mind about how to burn it all off?
Suggestions are welcome.
And Spinrads, if you feel like moving to NYC next year instead of Cinci, I'd happily hire Dave to train me and throw in some free hours of babysitting Little Miss D. Can I tempt you to change your mind from Cinci to the Big Apple???
Thank goodness my body is back to the point where I'm not craving sweets ALL THE TIME.
The other big news? I stepped the scale for the first time since November. I went up 3.4 pounds, which, while rather sucky, is better than I'd anticipated. I should mention that it took every ounce of courage in my body to step on that scale. I felt like I was back in elementary school again, when the gym teachers were recording our heights and weights and body fat percentage. Torturous.
I'm also in the process of trying to figure out how to get off my ass and move a little. I'm very conflicted over this, as I have several choices and all of them have pros and cons. Here's a list:
NYU Gym
PROS: It's CHEAP--$100/semester. It's also close to school, meaning I could go before/after school when I'm not working
CONS: It's close to school, meaning it isn't close to home and I wouldn't go on my days off. It's also kinda shady, and the other NYU gym is farther away, meaning I'd never go. It's also full of college kids, including the sorostitute-types that used to laugh at me when I'd hit the gym in college.
CURVES
PROS: It's on my block. It's also women-only, with women of every shape, size, age, nationality, etc. I'm familiar with it, as I was a member in St Louis before I started school.
CONS: It's EXPENSIVE. $75 registration fee and $50/month if I sign up for 12 months. It also doesn't seem like the kind of workout I'm looking for, but I don't really know what I'm talking about in that department. The hours aren't always convenient.
FELDENKRAIS
PROS: For my singing, it's exactly what I need to be doing right now. I also think it'd be extremely helpful for my inner-poise and confidence, and it's amazingly relaxing. My music theory professor, who is adorable, would be one of my teachers.
CONS: It's also very expensive, much more so than Curves. It isn't really a "workout", which means I'd have to implement it with something else. It's addicting, meaning I'd have to keep shelling out the bucks if I want to continue.
What is a fat girl to do when she is addicted to sugar and can't make up her mind about how to burn it all off?
Suggestions are welcome.
And Spinrads, if you feel like moving to NYC next year instead of Cinci, I'd happily hire Dave to train me and throw in some free hours of babysitting Little Miss D. Can I tempt you to change your mind from Cinci to the Big Apple???
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