Cheater, cheater, french toast eater!

You're all familiar with boot camp but there's one juicy little tidbit I've yet to share:

The weekly cheat (aahh ahhh ahhhh).

Did you hear the angelic voices? I thought you would! I'll spare you the science behind it (don't you dare doubt that there is science behind it - because there really is and you know that I would never, ever lie about junk food) but I get one two hour cheat window per week. During this time I can eat whatever I've been craving. This is trainer sanctioned cheating, folks. Does it get any better than that?

After a long week of protein shakes, chicken, asparagus, lettuce, and more lettuce, I was ready for a hearty breakfast. I had been dreaming of short stacks, bacon, potatoes, and juice all week. Seriously, I stood in my kitchen and inhaled the steam wafting from my kids' cinnamon waffles one day last week. I savored every second of that aroma. I eyed the maple syrup. It was all so tempting but I didn't indulge. I resolved to wait until Friday night. Friday date night finally arrived and the hubs took me to Mimi's Cafe. I ordered freshly squeezed orange juice and this plate of deliciousness:

Cinnamon Brioche French Toast

My fellow diners didn't seem amused by the fact that I was taking a picture of my food with my cell phone, but I didn't mind. This was basically french toast made from a cinnamon roll...swoon. It was so sweet that it didn't even need syrup. I also removed that shovel load of butter right away. The good news - every bite was delicious. The bad news - I left 2/3 of it on my plate. Wait a minute! Maybe that last part is really good news too. I ate a small portion of the meal and drank all of my juice. You know what happened? I felt miserable. My stomach felt like it was full of cement - reminiscent of post Thanksgiving tummy.

I left the restaurant with my craving satisfied and the realization that this boot camp regimen is really changing me. My body has grown accustomed to my new healthy habits. I can't believe it! I know that this isn't a quick fix or a magic potion. I'm developing a healthier lifestyle and it feels great. I can still enjoy a sweet treat or indulge a craving, I just can't do it every day.

P.S. Don't be dismayed by the thought of wasted french toast. The hubs ate it for dessert.



Boot Camp Progress Report

As promised, I'm back to give you an update. I weighed in before Friday's boot camp workout. After 13 days on the nutrition plan and 12 workouts I lost... drum roll please...........7.5 pounds. Woo hoo! That's right, seven and a half. Yep, I said half. Are you wondering why I had to mention the half? Why didn't I just leave that part off? I'll tell you why my friend - because I worked for every.single.ounce. No one handed it to me on a silver platter. I have sweat equity and it feels great! More on Friday's workout in my next boot camp post.

Boot Camp Chronicles

Sooo....I'm fairly certain that I was schooled at boot camp today. In fact, I'm absolutely certain. The up side is that I sprinted - I actually sprinted. No, smarty pants, I was NOT being chased by a big scary monster. On second thought maybe I was being chased by a big scary monster. It was the me of 2 weeks ago. The me that woke up tired everyday and lived on a steady diet of carbs. The me that laughed and rolled my eyes at the thought of exercising at 6am. The me that was out of breath after climbing 4 flights of stairs on my son's field trip last month. Just to re-cap the good news is that we could choose to walk or sprint and I chose the sprints. The bad news...the lady who beat me is about 15 years my senior. That's right people, she wore me out. My loss on the first sprint wasn't too bad. Imagine my shock when I realized that we would be doing more than one little race. Sneaky trainer - don't you know you're supposed to fill me in on that beforehand so I can reserve some gas in the tank for the second through fourth sprints?! Let me assure you that her margin of victory increased with each sprint but that's ok. I beat my own expectations and I'm getting stronger.
In the interest of full disclosure I want you all to know that I'll be arriving a few minutes early for boot camp tomorrow morning to be weighed and measured. I'll keep you posted.

Lagging behind

  The first day of boot camp proved to be exhausting. Seriously, I was out of gas by the end of the stretching/warm up phase. After that I was running on pure determination. I guess being stubborn and willful finally worked in my favor. I was talking to myself the whole time, wondering how in the world I managed to drift so far from the active, fit young woman I used to be. The answer is...drum roll please...laziness combined with detestable nutrition. The 158 pounds gained (and some of it lost) during my three pregnancies probably didn't help. Yep, you read that right - 64 pounds with baby #1, 29 pounds with baby #2, and a whopping 65 pounds with baby #3 = 158 pounds. That's more than my ideal body weight. Yikes! That's a whole extra me! Not an adorable, well accessorized, healthy version of me. A jiggly, tired, sugar devouring, frumpy me. The me who wants to wear pajamas until noon. The me that likes to put a pat of butter on cookies and microwave them for eight seconds (oh yes I did!)  During my first and third pregnancies I indulged in second helpings and dessert every day (think Krispy Kreme, cheese puffs, pasta, jars and jars of salsa, etc) and I ate like there was no tomorrow. That was all well and good as long as I had my baby bump (more like a baby mountain) and that special glow. You know what the problem is with eating like there's no tomorrow? Eventually that tomorrow is knocking on your door. Not a polite knock - more like a bust the door down pounding. The baby is born and suddenly the baby bump is doughy mush (how in the world is it fair that after pushing out a baby you leave the hospital looking five months pregnant?) and the glow is replaced by profuse sweating. Not cute. Not in any way. Then eighteen months later I grew tired of  hauling around 25 pounds of that baby weight and signed up for boot camp.
  During the 1.25 mile run I was lagging behind, in fact, I was the last boot camper to finish. My legs were quivering. My trainer must have picked up on my disappointment because he said, "No matter how slow you go, you are still lapping everybody on the couch." I smiled, knowing that he was exactly right ( and knowing that I was lapping my hubby who was at home in bed). Now that's my boot camp motto. I'm lapping the Misty of two weeks ago. Every day I'm getting a little stronger. Everyday I'm one day closer to my goal. Is there something you've been dreaming of? The next week, next month, next year will come and go. Will you be closer to accomplishing that thing? Get up and get started - you may be clumsy, you may be slow, you may be unsure - but you'll be lapping everyone on the couch!

What did I sign up for?

Boot Camp: Day 1

  My alarm went off at 5:20am. The last time I willingly left my house before 6:00am was on Black Friday - and let me tell you something, that wasn't torture. Boot camp, however, is torture. Maybe I sorta got sucked in. I was excited by my tremendous savings and even patted myself on the back for snagging such a great deal. How bad could it really be? After all the word CAMP is part of the name. Camp brings to mind s'mores, cozy cabins, sing alongs, and crafty projects with BFFs (all things that I thoroughly enjoy). Let me assure you that none of the aforementioned things are part of boot camp. Nope - not one. Skinny friend (name changed to protect the innocent) signed up to go with me but couldn't be there for the first day. So there I was all alone facing certain (no - not death) torture.
As I walked into the un-airconditioned building armed with only a water bottle I asked myself, "What did I sign up for?"

I bit the bullet.

I mulled it over for a long time. I reasoned that it was just too tough to find the right time to begin. Then I heard about a great deal and I bit the bullet. After all, those of you who know me in real life know that I looove a bargain. I'm officially enrolled in fitness boot camp. While I like the idea of a sweet personal trainer who likes to accompany me on leisurely walks while giving me pep talks and then going to Starbucks for low fat drinks - I must face reality. I have plenty of gal pals who do that already and I'm still out of shape. So tomorrow morning I'll be attending my fitness evaluation. Obviously these people have never met me. Hello, you can't evaluate my fitness because I'M NOT FIT! Anyway, I'm sure the morning will be filled with twinges of humiliation and plenty of laughter. No - not the I'm so jovial because this evaluation is more fun than a barrel of monkeys sort of laughter. I'm talking about the gee it's really awkward when you record my BMI and measure the girth of my left thigh sort of laughter. The strangely inappropriate nervous laughter that makes bystanders wonder if I just might be a few fries short of a happy meal. Well obviously I'm not lacking in the french fry department. How do you think I got myself into this state of un-fitness (is that even a word)? I digress. I'm fortunate to have a friend to help me endure this torment although it won't exactly be torturous for her. This is the friend who in a panic one day told me that one of her thighs *might* have touched the other thigh while she was showering. She was appalled. I fought to muster up some sort of sympathy. Honey, my thighs have been close friends since the moment that little stick had two pink lines. As if the moment I announced, "I'm pregnant" my whole body surrendered. It's been downhill since then.
I'll report back to you tomorrow. Right now I have to enjoy what will be my last Krispy Kreme donut for quite a while.