Well, THIS Isn’t What I Planned on Posting Today At ALL

I was going to post about this fancy-schmancy new diet I’ve been following – the Not-Crazy diet.  I wrote about how I got to thinking about things, and how I was pulling things that worked from past plans, and altering things that DIDN’T work in past plans, and all that jazz.

And then I started to post some specifics, and my chest got all tight, and my stomach knotted up, and I thought, “But what if I post this and don’t live up to it?”

I’ve known for a long time that I do not like being accountable to others about my diet and my weight.  When I went to Weight Watchers and weighed in, I saw other women who were overjoyed when they lost weight and discouraged but ready to recommit when they didn’t.  And I never felt that way: when I lost weight, I felt RELIEVED.  As though I’d passed the test, gotten an “A,” managed to prove my worth one more time.  THAT week I was worth something.  And when I gained (or just didn’t lose), I was crushed.  I’d barely hold it together through the subsequent meeting, and then go home and sob into my pillow for hours before breaking out the Ben & Jerry’s, because CLEARLY I couldn’t even do something as SIMPLE as losing .2 pounds.

And when I thought about that later, I always said to myself, “Well, obviously, I’m afraid of failure.  But WHY am I so afraid of it?”  And I never really had a good answer.  Oh, I had a lot of answers – I just never stumbled on that One answer, the one that resonated in my gut and made me think, “YES. THAT.”

And today, when my chest tightened and my stomach clenched, I thought, “Ok, how about if  I don’t sabotage myself by posting every damn detail, but seriously, WTF is wrong with me?”  And the answer floated up from somewhere inside, “Because I will be ashamed if I can’t do it right.  ‘Doing it right’ is what I DO.”  And I felt the PING in my spine, in my stomach: it’s not a fear of failure that stops me.  It’s shame.  Which I realize is pretty much the same thing, but the two things have two distinct feelings in my body, and it’s the latter that is the crippling one.

I still see myself as that kid with unlimited potential.  And when I don’t live up to my own (admittedly extreme and maybe even crazy) standards, I don’t feel discouraged with a determination to recommit.  I feel ASHAMED.  In the same way that I would feel ashamed if I broke a promise to someone.  In the same way that I would feel ashamed if I lied about something.  As though I have presented myself as one thing, when in fact I am another.  I am PERFECT, goddamit, and any failure to live up to that standard is something to be ashamed of. 

And the first thing is that those “admittedly extreme and maybe even crazy” standards DON’T SEEM that crazy to me, deep down.  I mean, I recognize RATIONALLY that eating 12 bajillion grams of protein every day and exercising EVERY DAY and NEVER eating ice cream AGAIN are absolutely crazy.  But it was crazy that I could read before I was 2, and that I got a perfect score on math I’d never seen.  Crazy has not been a barrier in my life, ok?  At least not in my formative years.

And the SECOND thing is just that - I have a PRECEDENT for being crazy in a “perfect” way.  For my entire early life, I was “perfect” in a way that was deemed valuable.  It was absolutely a fluke of genetics, in the same way that my younger sister has a body that our society deems “perfect.”  We both, in our own ways, won the genetic lottery, and we’ve talked at length about how those different lotteries affected our lives (and our respective neuroses).  And we’ve talked about how our minds were shaped by the way that my “perfection” came early but faded, and the way that she started off without “perfection” and acquired it at puberty. 

Um.  Nice tangent there, huh?  It’s not like the subject makes me uncomfortable and want to deflect it at any cost.    But it is relevant, so I’m leaving it up. 

ANYWAY.

That’s where I’m at right now.  Realizing that the whole “fear of failure” thing isn’t really THAT so much as feeling ashamed.  Feeling like an unwitting fraud: as though I were holding something valuable, and I put it down, and NOW I CAN’T FIND IT, even though I said I had it.  Or worse: like a lottery jackpot winner who spent it all, and is now broke again, reliving my glory days. 

*laughs*  And all that sounds SO MAUDLIN.  And I don’t really FEEL maudlin about it – or rather, the maudlin part is balanced out by a sense of detachment from the whole thing, by the feeling that it’s just another interesting problem to be solved. 

Another interesting problem to be solved.  Story of my life.  *grins wryly*

Book Review: Younger Next Year for Women

And you thought I’d never get around to posting this! 

I love this book.

That is all.

What, you want more?  FINE.

First off, I have to say that if you read the first book, I’ve heard that there isn’t a WHOLE lot new with this one.  (I haven’t read the first one, so I can’t comment, but just FYI: if you have a well-thumbed copy of the first one, you might not want to run out and buy the women-focused one.)  Having said that, there is some female-specific stuff in here.  Chris and Harry (the authors) address the prevalence of osteoporosis and the fact that heart disease is the number one killer of women, even though culturally it’s still viewed as a “man’s” disease.  But if you have the original, just look for the women’s version at your library. 

Ok.  Why do I love this book with a fiery passion?  Because it circumvents all the “lose weight so you’ll be pretty and skinny” bullshit that women in our culture are so exposed to.  This book makes me want to exercise and eat right JUST BECAUSE IT’S GOOD FOR ME.  Bizarre, I know. 

There are two authors, and they alternate chapters: Henry Lodge, M.D. (Harry) is the . . . well, the doctor.  (You figured that out already, right?  Based on the “M.D.” after his name?  Right?)  Chris Crowley is a self-professed “regular guy” and Harry’s patient.  In the book, they tag-team each other, Chris giving you the folksier, here’s-how-this-plays-out-in-real-life approach, and Harry giving you the here’s-how-the-biology-BEHIND-the-real-life-approach-works approach .  (Wow.  I think I just confused myself with Harry’s approach.)  If you like accessible science (I do – I’m a nerd that way), you will LOVE this.

Most of the book focuses on exercise, and how it affects your physiological systems.  Turn out there are two sets of chemicals in our bodies, which Harry abbreviates as C6 and C10.  C6 is what you get with stress, with a sedentary life, with too much processed food and too few social connections.  C10 is what you get with exercise, a good diet and an active social network.  But!  Turns out you need both!  Harry calls C6 the “demolition crew,” and C10 the “construction crew.”  You need BOTH.  When you run on the treadmill (or whatever), you stress your body.  Your system releases a bunch of C6 (because you know, “Ack!  Stress!”), which is your body’s signal to send in the construction crew: the C10 (because you know, “Things have broken down!  Must!  Fix!”).  (You know how good you feel after exercising?  That’s C10.) 

But here’s the catch: a “normal” American life, sitting at a desk, not getting a lot of exercise, etc., releases C6, but NOT IN ENOUGH QUANTITY to trigger the signal to send in the C10.  So we die a slow, decaying death from an excess of C6. 

That’s the general gist of the exercise stuff.  There’s a LOT more, obviously, including the difference between long, slow exercise, and more intense exercise (I’m looking at you, Interval Training).  Chris even goes so far as to say that interval training will make you FITTER than long and slow, but long and slow will make you HEALTHIER.  He recommends doing both.  (Disclaimer: this was written a few years ago, and I’m too lazy to go look up the newer science.  So that part might not line up with the newest research, but since it seems more balanced to recommend both instead of one over the other, I’m going with it.  Besides, some mornings ALL I can do is walk, and I like to think I’m still doing something good for myself.  So there.  ;D)

And Harry explains how the C6 and C10 work in light of evolution: foraging, hunting, RUNNING FOR OUR LIVES.  Ahem. 

There is a little bit about diet (though again focused on health, not weight-loss – there’s even a chapter titled “Don’t You Lose a Goddamn Pound!” which made me go “Whaaa???”), and a fair amount about social networking, and how it affects our bodies: our stress levels, and so forth.  I have to admit, I’d never considered the social aspect as part of general health, but it makes sense.  We’re pack animals, after all.  And Harry goes into the science behind that too, while Chris tackles the real-life impact of it.

The downsides of this book?  Wellllll . . . the hot pink cover.  How about that?  (No, really.  Why is EVERYTHING markted to women hot-fucking-PINK???)

Actually, Chris is 70-some years old, and his writing style reflects that in some ways.  In my experience, certain older men can get away with saying things that might irritate me if those statements came from someone younger and/or more patronizing.  Chris is the former: he gets away with it.  He’s not patronizing, simply because that’s not his attitude.  But he’s definitely a product of his time.  Every once in a while I stumble across a phrase like, “you clever girl, you,” that might piss me right the fuck off if most people were to say it.  But coming from Chris . . . it reminds me of a couple of elderly guys I used to do theatre with: they would say things like that, but their ATTITUDE wasn’t patronizing, so it didn’t bother me; in fact, I found it sort of charming.  In this book, I find it sort of charming.  But if that sort of thing ALWAYS makes you see red, go buy the first book – it’s oriented toward men, so I doubt there will be so much of the “clever girl” thing in that one. 

If you are just getting started in fitness, there is loads of good, basic info here.  And if you are farther along the fitness path, there’s some REALLY interesting science, so you’ll like it, too.  AND it’s not weight-loss-focused, so for those of us with food issues, it’s good for us, too.  (If you are a compulsive exerciser though, proceed with caution.  I still think there’s interesting stuff in here, and Chris even says flat-out that if you’re exercising more than an hour a day, you’re doing too much – but only you know how fragile your head is.  Just FYI.)

You know how some people keep religious books by their beds and read a little every night?  Their books are well-thumbed, and show it.  That’s how I feel about this book.  I read it VERY regularly, even if it’s just bits and pieces here and there.  And then every once in a while, I read the whole thing again, just to remind myself. 

If you don’t own it,  you should.  (Unless you own the first one.  In that case, you’re excused.  ;D)

Not Dead Yet

I’ve been working on a new way of eating.  I’ve been doing it for about a week now, and I’m not QUITE ready to talk about it.  I don’t want to jinx it, LOL.  Details will be forthcoming sometime next week, but suffice it to say it might be the healthiest approach I’ve been able to manage thus far.  Woo-hoo!

In the meantime, I’m working on that book review, and it should be up Wednesday.  Woo-hoo, again! 

OK, I Lied: No Book Review Today. Maybe Monday. Or Wednesday.

Why no book review today?  Because I’m still thinking about that perfectionism/super-smart post. 

See, I don’t really have much of a problem losing weight (assuming that I’m not bingeing or drinking excessively).   But invariably after a week or two or three, the weight loss stalls out, and often I regain most if not all of it.

I’ve been rolling the super-smart post around in my head, and it occurred to me that it applies to my eating/dieting/etc.  I lose weight without a problem – UNTIL SOMEONE NOTICES.  As soon as someone says, “Hey, you look great – have you lost weight?”  I stop.  Part of that is because I have an almost irrational and neurotic idea of what’s private and what’s public: I HATE having people comment on my body, no matter whether the statement is good or bad.  But part of it is also because of that whole inability to live up to crazy-high standards.  Part of it is that I feel resentful of all those crazy-high standards.  And I know that when someone compliments me on a weight-loss, they’re not necessarily saying, “Thank God!  Now just keep losing and you’ll look fine!” but that’s what I hear.  And I just feel like, “Screw you.  I don’t want to conform to what you want from me or live up to the potential you think I have.  It’s TOO DAMN MUCH!  Leave me alone!”  So I stop losing weight.

It’s just . . . an INTERESTING phenomenon.  If by “interesting,” you mean “oddly fucked-up and self-defeating.”  Which I do.  Ahem.

The REALLY hilarious part is that when you rebel against something, and base your choices on that rebellion, you’re STILL being controlled by the very thing you’re trying to throw off.  When I say, “Screw you, I don’t HAVE to lose weight,” when in fact I WANT to lose weight, I’m still allowing other people’s expectations to make my choices for me.  I’m only choosing the opposite thing because I think it’s the opposite of what OTHER people want.  Hence, other people are still controlling my behaviors.  See what I mean?

So.  Short post tonight, because I’m still thinking on this.  Knowing what’s CAUSED something doesn’t always help FIX it.  So now I’ve got to think about how to fix it.  If you’ve got any ideas, hit me in the comments.

So Here’s the Dilemma

 It’s hot outside.  When I run my air conditioner, and the temperature drops below the outside temperature, I get palmetto bugs (flying roaches) coming in from the outside.  When I DON’T run the AC, they don’t come in, but it’s freakin’ HOT – WAY too hot to sleep.

That’s the first dilemma.

The second dilemma is that because I’m so freaked out about the bugs, I’m on high alert ALL THE DAMN TIME.  If a shadow moves on the wall, I jump.  If the sheet touches my leg funny, I jump.  If the window creaks, I jump.  I haven’t been able to go to sleep before 10pm on any night this week, and that’s only with 2 glasses of wine under my belt.  Otherwise I can’t sleep at ALL. 

And going to bed at 10 means that I have a hard time getting up at 4am to go to the gym.  Part of that is because I’m TIRED, but frankly, part if it is also that at 4am it’s dark in my room, and I’m afraid of what bugs I will find if I turn on the light.  If I don’t turn on the light, I can ignore the possibility that they’re there (usually spiders in the morning, not palmetto bugs).  But if I DON’T go to the gym, my mood heads southward.  It also heads southward if I don’t get enough sleep.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.  So do I sleep until 6, and get 8 hours, or do I get up at 4 and function on 6 hours plus a workout (assuming I don’t have to spend time catching and/or killing an enormous garden spider on my bedroom wall)?

Escrow is scheduled to close on the new place on the 15th.  I can’t WAIT: central air conditioning and windows that actually SEAL PROPERLY because they aren’t 70 years old.

I.  CAN’T.  WAIT.

In Which I Ramble Incoherently About Perfection and Failure

I don’t even know where to begin.  There isn’t really a beginning to begin at.  I’ve just had some crap rolling around in my brain.  (And I haven’t forgotten the book review – come back Friday for that.)  So, in no particular order, here we go.

Monday, Charlotte posted something that started out as lying about one’s age, but down toward the end, she mentioned being what used to be called a “precocious” child/teen, and which is now often called a “prodigy.”  She wrote:
The problem with all child prodigies however is that we grow up. What was remarkable at 12 is normal at 20 and old hat by 30. For a while, in my 20’s, I lied about my age simply to buy myself more time to fulfill everyone’s expectations of me. I was afraid to grow older and not be able to keep pace with the impossible standard I’d already set for myself.
To which I say:
YESYESYES.  THIS.  YES. 

I have been marinating recently in my own feelings of worthlessness – not in a self-pitying way, but more because the longer I sit with them, the deeper I have to dig to answer the question, “But WHY do I feel this way?”  And I think part of it is exactly what Charlotte is talking about.  I was definitely a prodigy.  I started things early, finished things early, excelled without trying.  I earned a perfect score on the SATs – twice.  And I did it when I was 8.  (The school district made me retake the test after the first score, because they declared it “impossible” that I could earn a perfect score on material I’d never been exposed to.  Frankly, I don’t know how I did it either – though I have some theories - but I did.)

But where does a person go from there?  Because it is DEFINITELY true that what was exceptional at 8, or 10, or even 18, when you’re in school, is just not a big deal at 25 or 30, after you’ve graduated.  And the hard part is trying to believe that it’s not due to any failure on my part.  It’s not that I’m any less smart; it’s just that real life doesn’t reward the same things in the same ways as school does.  I know that intellectually, but emotionally, it’s tough to really believe.  There’s a part of me that thinks that if I just tried harder (at what? no idea), worked longer (doing what?), spoke louder (because EVERYONE loves a know-it-all, right?), I could be Special-with-a-capital-S again.  I know that’s not true, and yet I keep thinking that if I could just do BETTER again (better than EVERYONE ELSE, that is), my life would all fall into place.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped being Special, and became . . . smart.  It’s sounds (and is) awful to say that it’s not enough, but . . . it’s not.  It should be, but some part of me desperately misses the praise and adulation, the admiration, the slight awe (yes, really – I was THAT smart) that people used to look at me with.  People still think I’m smart, but it’s different.  The playing field is more level.  (I imagine this is a minor version of what it would be like to be a former child star: the total admiration/awe/fascination, followed by the “Where Are They Now?” specials.)

And then there is the societal expectation that you “live up to your potential.”  But when your potential is effectively unlimited, how the fuck do you live up to that?  You can’t.  In a way, an unlimited potential guarantees failure: you can’t EVER fulfill all that potential.  No one is going to discover the cure for cancer while running for President and curing Third World hunger on the side.  And even as I write that ridiculous scenario, there’s a voice in my head that whispers, “YOU could have.  You COULD.  But you didn’t.  You failed.”

It’s an interesting side effect, this deep-seated belief in my own failure (and by extension, my own worthlessness).  Even looking back, it isn’t anything I would have predicted, either as myself or as an outsider looking in.  But it does elevate even the smallest screw-ups in my head: “You ate a bite of ice cream while you were trying to eat healthier?  Well, of COURSE you did.  You never could live up to your potential.”  “You don’t wear a size 6?  Well, of COURSE you don’t.  You always fail at taking care of yourself.  You never could live up to your potential.”  ”You aren’t taking PERFECT care of yourself?  Well, of COURSE you aren’t.  You never could live up to your potential.”  Ad nauseam (and “nauseam” is the PERFECT word, lemme tell ya). 

I expect better from myself: I expect PERFECTION.  Not moderation, not competence, not even exellence - PERFECTION.  Because for many, many years,  I WAS perfect in a way that society told me was valuable – and I’m not now.  I think for me, that’s the crux of Charlotte’s statement about how what was extraordinary at a young age is no great shakes as you get older.  Nobody gives a damn about whether or not you test well when you’re 32.  (And no, the irony of going back to law school at this point in my life is not lost on me, LOL.)

Anyway.  I’m not sure how to wrap this up.  I guess I hadn’t really thought about it in terms of childhood crap until reading Charlotte’s post the other day.  So I’m percolating.  I have a lot to think about. 

Thanks, Charlotte!  (No, really.  No saracasm.  I’m glad for that post.)

 

*If you have a kid who is so gifted it scares you (as I scared my mom – seriously, who reads at a high school level when they’re TWO YEARS OLD, and at beyond college level by the time they’re 6 or 7?) go buy yourself a copy of “Guiding the Gifted Child.”  I read it as an adult, and it changed my life.  Just knowing that I wasn’t alone, that I wasn’t a Grade-A FREAK,  made a HUGE difference in my life.  Things like dealing with spiritual and social questions . . . seriously, it changed my life.  Just to know there were enough people out there who were like me to justify a BOOK.  A whole book.  I still don’t know that I’ve met anyone QUITE like me – although I’ve learned to appreciate that different experiences give different perspectives, and I’ve learned that due to experience, other people know more about certain things than I ever could – but it was comforting to know that I wasn’t alone.  Just take my word for it: go buy it if you think you even MIGHT need it.  (Hey, I had the whole, “How do you know God is real?” conversation with my formerly Catholic father when I was seven or eight.  Most people start thinking about that crap toward the end of their teenage years.  If you have a smart kid, a SUPER-smart kid, get ready.  It’s coming.  They have more on their plate sooner than you realize.  Go buy this book.  SERIOUSLY.)

Everything Old is New Again

Sometimes I “remember” things that I used to know, but have forgotten.  Things like, “I get depressed when I don’t exercise,” and “I really do need 8 hours of sleep at night.”  And I’m always amazed to discover this shocking new information!  At least for a few minutes, until I start remembering that, “ohhhhh, yeeeaaaah, I went through this EXACT SAME THING a few months back.”

Cuz I’m S – M – R – T, smart like that.

The latest thing I’ve remembered/discovered?  My eating tanks at night, after work.  How did I combat that in times past?  I FREAKIN’ KEPT MY HANDS BUSY.  I used to knit and I used to draw.  I haven’t done either one of those in a while (although I did buy some drawing books the other day).  I quit knitting because my hands were starting to ache,  but I quit drawing because . . . well, I just put it down and didn’t pick it back up.  So it might be time to drag out the sketchbook again. 

I’m actually thinking of starting a journal of Things Forgetten.  I’m thinking it might be wise to start writing this stuff down, and then flipping through the journal once a week or so, asking myself, “Does any of this look familiar this week?  Because if it does, here are the fixes, right next to the problems.”  I’m just tired of having the same damn revelations over and over.  It’s not even that I’m tired of fighting the battle: I’m tired of fighting the SAME TERRITORY without REALIZING that it’s the same territory – at least for a week or two, at which point I usually remember having been through it before.

Along the same lines, I need to go back to Intuitive Eating for a while.  I’ve been counting calories pretty determinedly, and I’m noticing that my protein intake has dropped a LOT, while my consumption of processed (low-calorie) food has gone up.  Oops.  And that combination - the stress of the numbers, combined with my system’s reaction to too many carbs – tends to make me a little nuts.  So I’m back to IE for a while.

Same shit, different day.  Hopefully a “Things Forgotten” journal will help with that.

WTF?

This week I’ve been feeling ok.  Getting up, out to the gym, feeling tired in the evenings, but pretty chipper most of the day.

But last night hit me like a ton of bricks.  I practically staggered home from work, feeling like I wanted to cry. 

Today is worse. 

Part of it is stress.  The stress of moving, of leaving an apartment that I frankly LOVE (although I keep reminding myself that the air conditioner doesn’t work worth a damn, and that’s a BIG minus when the temperature gets over 90 degrees, which it does for about 4 months of the year), of packing for the move, of buying a first home (and all the attendant money anxiety involved), of buying said home on my own, without the security of a second income, of law school preparations, oh, and let’s not forget the stress of trying to deal with my emotional shit instead of drowning it in wine or burying it in ice cream.  Lots of stress.  Lots. 

But still.  This was a hard stop as far as feeling better goes.  WTF? 

The only thing I can think of is that I ate a burger and some onion rings for lunch yesterday.  I haven’t been eating a lot of crap, and I’m wondering if that’s it.  I know my mom’s system started to get really sensitive to food changes when she was in her early 30s, and physically, I tend to take after her side of the family.  And I KNOW today’s craptastic attitude is due at least in part to the fact that I drank and binged on crap food last night.  But this feeling, this sudden depressive wall, hit yesterday AFTERNOON.  Before the wine, before the binge.  If I hadn’t suddenly felt like crying yesterday around 4:00, I’d chalk it up to “That’s what you get when you eat stupid food,” but this happened BEFORE.

Unless it was the burger and onion rings (which I didn’t even eat a lot of).  Either that or it was a random occurrence, which has happened occasionally in the past – but it doesn’t happen often.  And I keep coming back to my mom’s food sensitivities, and the fact that I take after her so much.  And the fact that for about a week, I haven’t been eating crap.  And the timing: lunch at noon, the depressive wall at 4:00. 

Maybe the food on its own wouldn’t have put me under.  But combined with my stress levels (which are better with exercise, but let’s be honest, they’re still high at the moment), my emotional system is NOT. HAPPY.  I’m at work now, and truly I could sit here and cry, which is completely bizarre.   I may just go home early today.  Maybe do some yoga, pack a box or two, pick up new running shoes (my old ones are giving me blisters, dammit).  God knows it’s not like I’m getting anything done here at the moment, anyway.

Blah, Blah, Blah

That pretty much sums it up.  (And I think I’ve used that post title before.  Hm.)  This week has been a little crazy – not the crazy-head kind, but the I’m-so-busy-I-don’t-have-time-to-breathe kind.

First off, thanks to Julie for suggesting that I binge on fruit if I’m really in a bad way.  I’ve been eating grapes and frozen berries, and it seems to work: a bit of a sugar hit, plus I get full so fast that I physically CAN’T keep eating.  So that works out.  And my skin looks FANTASTIC!  *cracks up*

I went back to the gym last week, too.  Just the treadmill, every morning for about 45 minutes (however long it takes to watch an episode of ”Lost” or “Fringe” or something like that on my iPod).  At first, I was going to jump back into the weights too, but it turned out to be too easy to stay home and do them.  While that’s not inherently a bad thing, I was using it to justify not going to the gym at ALL, so I figured I’ll just do the treadmill for a few weeks: enough time to get back in the habit of going every morning.  And then I’ll add the weights back in, when I’m back in the habit of getting my ass to the gym and not blowing it off every chance I get.

In related news, I’m wondering how much of the downward spiral of the last month or two was exercise-related.  I already feel LOADS better.  My mood has leveled out, I’m not bingeing (ok, last night was bad, but that was the first bad night in the last 8 days, which is good) as much, I’m not drinking like a fish, I’m not laying in bed and crying for hours, I’m not sitting on the couch staring blankly at the TV all night.  In a way I’m glad for that downward spiral, because it puts exercise in a whole new light: it’s not a weight-loss thing, it’s a sanity thing.  I need to get my ass to the gym not so I can Lose Weight and Get Skinny but so that I can handle day-t0-day existence without drinking and bingeing and crying all the time.  I don’t think I’d realized until just the last few days how MUCH of an effect it has on my system.  I knew it helped, but I didn’t really realize that it was the difference between feeling normal and feeling totally overwhelmed by EVERYTHING.  Good to know.

Wins and Losses – and a pre-book review

Last night I drove past the Trader Joe’s near my work without stopping for a $5 bottle of wine.  That was self-discipline.

Then I drove past the Ralph’s by my house without stopping for a $10 bottle of wine.  That was just because I’m broke.  (No, really.  I TOTALLY would have stopped if I’d had the money.)

I did not want to lift weights.  At all.  With a fiery passion I did NOT want to lift weights.  But I did.  I bribed myself with a Kahlua and milk (though I’m not crazy about Kahlua and milk) and cried through the first half because I just felt emotionally overwhelmed and tired and I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS.  But I didn’t cry through the second half.  And I felt better.  And I remembered that I’m not all that crazy about Kahlua and milk, so I ended up throwing most of it away.  And I made dinner and signed some paperwork for the condo and cleaned the bathroom.

And then I went to bed at a decent hour and then got up at 4 and went to the gym.  And DIDN’T MIND OR FEEL OVERWHELMED.

I’ve been re-reading “Younger Next Year for Women,” which I LOVE.  Seriously, if you haven’t read it, go get a copy.  I’ve read it several times now, and it’s FANTASTIC.  It’s got funny bits and science-y bits and lots of practical info that doesn’t center around “Getting Thin Healthy!”  Have you read it?  Hated it?  Loved it?  I might have to write a belated review when I’m done reading it (again).