Adina’s Cute & Perky Blog!

I had an interesting talk with a dear friend of mine on Friday.  You see, he spent years of his life addicted to Crack.  But he has been clean for over nine years now, which makes him one of my own personal heroes.  And aren’t those the best kind?  The ones you actually know.  Not just see about or read about.  You actually get to know them.

We were comparing stories.   And it’s funny.  Just like my classmate I told y’all about, he views what I did as harder than what he did.  Yet, I am totally in awe of what my friend has accomplished.

And so I said to him, “So few people do what you have done.  You act like it is nothing, when really it is everything.”

And it is.  I really believe that.

So he went on to tell me how he knows what he did is a big thing.  About how many people come to meetings and don’t stick around very long.  Very few left at the five year mark, and even fewer at the ten. 

And are you catching that?  It’s been over nine years, and he still goes to meetings.  And from talking to him, I can tell you, it’s numerous times a week.

Because that’s how he keeps his sobriety.  That’s how he stays clean. 

And y’all…that’s how he maintains.

There are actually areas outside of weight loss where people have to work on maintenance. 

There are actually things in this world that are just as hard as losing and maintaining weight loss.  We aren’t doing the hardest thing in the world, y’all.

But the biggest lesson I learned through my friend?  He told me, “I have to stay humble, or I go right back to hell.  The minute I think I’ve conquered it, I’ve lost it.”

So, let’s see.  The minute I think I’ve conquered my battle with the bulge, and go back to eating the way I used to eat….hmmm…I’ve lost it.

So…maybe, just maybe, never feeling like I’ve conquered it is key to my maintaining my loss.

He goes to narcotics anonymous meetings to maintain while I go to the gym and eat healthy.

And while we both focus on the ongoing battle, secretly we both know the other has won.  We just don’t tell each other that.

Battle on friends.

Fight the good fight.
 

Into each life a little rain must fall. 

I felt like I lived in a hurricane for years.

I wandered through life as if I was helpless to make changes.

Depression led to binging.  Binging led to overeating.  And overeating led to depression.  It was a cycle.  I let the small storms in my life fester into a full blown monsoon.

No date on Friday night?  I ate a cupcake.

Too much month to go with my money?  That deserved a Ho Ho.

Stubbed my big toe?  No gym this week.

Had to lift three boxes for somebody else at work?  That was biceps.  No reason to go to the gym now.

When I was out of shape and overweight, I let the little showers in my life become big storms.  I lived in the rain.  I sat at the window on clear days waiting for that rain.

I actually searched for excuses to justify my lifestyle. 

Y’all!  I lived like it was raining every day.  I sat in my living room wearing goulashes and a raincoat with a white-knuckle grip on my umbrella.

But life is not about surviving the storm is it?  It’s about dancing in the rain.

Sure, into each life a little rain must fall.  That’s a given.  But I had to learn how to journey out into the rain to make it to where I wanted to be.

No date on Friday night?  I went to the bookstore, which is where I kindled my true love for this sport.

Too much month to go with my money?  Jogging is free, y’all.  Think how much money I saved in Ho Ho’s alone.

Stubbed my big toe?  I don’t have to use my toes to work upper body.  Unless I’m doing preacher curls.  Sometimes when I want to lift really girl-heavy on those, I take off my shoes and curl my toes around the base.  Yeah…I want it THAT bad.

Had to lift three boxes for someone else at work?  I tell them thank you for allowing me to burn a few more calories.

And I no longer search for excuses to justify my lifestyle, because I am happy with the path that I have chosen.

And I have learned how to dance in the rain.  Funny that once I learned how to, it doesn’t rain nearly as much.

So last night my oldest son had a football game.  As I walked in to the stadium, I see the guys warming up.

I stand at the fence watching the calisthenics with interest, trying to pick my child out of the sea of white jerseys with red numbers.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see two of the coaches staring at me.  I’m assuming they are flirting with me.  Then I see another friend look my way, and I’m thinking, “Boy this free Bally T-Shirt must fit me right.”

But I don’t have time to flirt, because I must find my son.  I must find number 74.

After several minutes of searching, I decide they must have switched his number.  Number 75 looks like him.  Sort of.  It’s hard to tell with a helmet and all.  And I don’t remember him being quite so awkward when he runs.  But I watch him with interest, while my friends watch me.

Then a white-hot moment of sheer brilliance strikes me.  Not only are we the Bulldogs vs. the Bulldogs, we are red and white vs. red and white.

I was not even watching the right team warm up.

And although I’m sure I was looking smashing in my Bally’s T, my friends were staring out of curiosity.  Wondering just how long I was going to watch the opposing team warm-up.

But y’all.  I stared long enough and hard enough till I found not only my child on the visitor’s team, but his best friend too.  Magically, his number had also been changed.

But I remember when I was big, I would stare in the mirror till I saw what I wanted to see.  If I would stand JUST right, and suck in my gut, and never be seen from the side, well, I had it going on.  I was a hot fat chick.

I saw what I wanted to see when I ate too.  If I looked long enough at the fries, I could convince myself they were really a vegetable.  Practically like dipping broccoli in ketchup.  Where’s the harm in that?  There is no harm there.

And my schedule?  I saw it as full or as empty as I wanted it to be.  I told myself it was OK that I didn’t go to the gym.  Look at my busy schedule.

Sometimes you can look too long at something…and create something that just isn’t there. 

If you have changes you need to make, stop staring at the wrong team.  Those white jerseys with red numbers are bad food, bad company, and bad excuses.  Who needs them for teammates?

Find the red jerseys with white numbers.  That is where you’ll find healthy food, lifting, hard work, and dedication.

And thank goodness that’s where I found my son.  That other kid really did run kind of awkward.  He’s on the wrong team….and they lost.

Go Bulldogs!!!

Have you ever caught a really little child in a lie about what they just ate? 

Years ago, I remember teaching the little two and three year olds in church choir.  I decided it would be fun to bring play dough for them. 

OK.  I was only 16, and it did seem like a good idea at the time. 

Now I know, there is a special place in hell for the creator of that colorful concoction of gelatinous goo.  What was he thinking?  I know it was a man, because every woman knows that was a bad idea.  I mean, you play with it outside, it gets too dry.  Play with it inside, it gets….everywhere.  Every nook and every cranny.  Got something stain-free?  That just means it’s still a play dough virgin.

So, anyway, back to choir.

I look across the room to little Adam Paul Williams.   He’s either contracted the mumps since entering the room or is in the middle of eating a can of play dough.  Judging by the blue lips, my instincts tell me the child is eating my dough.  It was homemade dough too.  Did I tell y’all that?  He was eating my homemade play dough.

So I calmly walk across the room, and as firmly as I can say, “Adam Paul Williams!”

Y’all, it’s hard to be firm looking at that.  I don’t care who you are, that’s cute!

He snaps to attention.  Eyes wide.  Cheeks full.  Bits of dough covering all orifices I can see.  I’m sure it was in his belly button too.  I have no doubt.  You would have to know this child.

So, once I have his attention I sternly say, “Are you eating my play dough?”

Now, what can you possibly do to answer a question with a mouth full of THAT and gooey evidence all over your face and hands?

Why, you lie.

“Noggy man.  I promaigad.”  (In play dough, that would be, “No ma’am.  I promise.”)

To this day, that is one of my fondest memories.  And he and I share the same birthday.  So, every September 13th when I send my former choir boy a message, I remind him of it.  We have laughed so long and so hard over that.  And you bet your bottom dollar, when he has children, they will get some play dough from Ms. Adina!!!

But, people….listen here!

(That caught y’all off guard, didn’t it?)

Lying about what you eat ceases to be cute after age 3. 

Do not walk into work with a diet bar and an apple and say you don’t know why you can’t lose any more weight. 

Do not say you practice portion control when you are in front of people, when you don’t at home.

And do not tell me that no matter what you do you can’t seem to lose.

You have a mouth full of dough, and I can see it from across the room.  And it isn’t cute.

Do not lie about what you eat.  Especially, do not lie to yourself.

I see so many people who live the diet life at work, which is to say, in front of others, yet they go home and eat like there is no tomorrow.

Well, guess what?  There is a tomorrow, and you need to get fit and healthy to enjoy it!

And there is really only one way to eat.  And that is clean.  And that is all the time.

Learn a way you need to eat, and practice it every day.  Do not eat one way in front of people, and another way at home.

And certainly, do not eat in such a way that you feel you need to lie about it.  Because if you feel you need to lie, you are just not eating the right thing.

Step away from the play dough.  You’re not fooling anybody but yourself.
 

As I exited my car en route to the door at work yesterday morning, I knew something had gone awry.  You see, the back door was open.  I didn’t have to struggle to make it through the door with my gallon of water in one hand, cooler in the other, and my keys dangling from my teeth. It’s not pretty, but that’s how I roll.

My immediate thought was, “Oh, isn’t this nice?  Someone saw me coming, and they left the door open.  Yea for me!”

But as I got closer to the entrance, my nose started to tingle.  Then my eyes started to water.  And as I actually walked through the doorway, my thoughts changed to, “Good, Lord, who did that?”

It was the worst smell I have EVER smelled.  And I live with two pre-pubescent boys. I know bad smells when I smell them.  I am accustomed, if not numbed, to them by this point in my life.

When do boys start caring about hygiene?  Because apparently it’s not 12 nor is it at 15.

Yet, this smell was worse.  And we could not find the source.  It permeated the air coming from every vent.  And eventually we gave up trying to find the source.

We even got used to it after a while. 

But from time to time someone would come in from the outside world and remind us, “What is wrong in here?”

Or we would decide it wasn’t so bad, until we went outside to breathe the clean air and the smell of walking back inside would all but knock us down.

But over and over, we got used to the pungency that was our work area.

And then the thought occurred, “Do I really need to get used to a smell this bad?  Can it possibly be good for me to breath in air that foul for that many hours?”

I mean it’s OK at home, I can send the boys to the other room.  Here, it was inescapable.

So we searched yet again.  And one of my coworkers found some chemicals had spilled.  And while they had been wiped up, no one had lifted the door mat.  And the chemicals had sealed the mat to the floor.  And we all took turns trying to pry that sucker up.  And when we did manage to get it up, we let out a collective, “OHHHHH!”

Where a once clean spot of floor had been was now a yellow, gelatinous, disgustingly smelly pile of…..well…..stinky gooey stuff.

But once we found it, we could fix it.

And isn’t losing weight this way?

It stinks to be overweight.  Yet we sit in it long enough, and we don’t notice it anymore. 

We don’t notice till we are reminded of the smell when we can’t sit in a booth.  Can’t cross our legs.  Can’t play with our kids.  Can’t walk up a flight of stairs without feeling like a triple bypass can’t be too far away.

Don’t let yourself forget that it stinks.  Because once you forget, you become content.  Content to stay where you just don’t need to be.  Where it can’t be good for you.

Once we found the root of the problem, we cleaned it up.  And we were able to enjoy the rest of our day.  In fact, the afternoon was more enjoyable because we just appreciated the good, clean, breathable air.

Remind yourself that it stinks to be overweight and do something to get to some good, clean, breathable air into those lungs.

They say the grass is always greener on the other side, but does this really matter? 

Every day someone’s lunch looks better than mine.  Every day someone goes shopping while I am at the gym.  And every day someone watches TV while I pack my cooler for the next day.

There are moments of every day that some has greener grass than me.  But what good is a yard if you can’t play in it?

My former mother-in-law shares a backyard with her daughter.  Through years and years of little feet, a path had been worn between the two back doors.  And try as she might, Mema could not get the grass to grow on this path.  The grass was green and beautiful save for this one trail from doorway to doorway.  And it drove her CRAZY!

Years passed.  Kids grew.  And that path got smaller.  A teenager does not have the same haphazard way of running from door to door as a small child.

And then those kids left.  One by one.  And where that path used to be was now a brightly colored swath of green.  Amazing really how fast that grass grew in.  Almost as if those feet had never walked that path.

The grass was now officially greener, and we were all sad.

That green grass signified the absence of little feet.  Precious little feet that ran freely back and forth and giggled when they saw the path they had made.  The path that led them to the place where there was love. 

But one by one those kids who left had kids of their own.  One even had triplets.  And three little tandem set of prints makes an awfully wide path.

But this time no one complains.

Yes, indeed, the grass in sometimes greener on the other side.

But every day when I wear my same path down by packing my cooler and going to the gym, I am creating a yard that my family can play in. 

I am creating a mom who is happy and healthy and able to enjoy the other 22 hours of my day that my healthy habits do not encompass.

I am creating the future grandma who will be able to out run, out climb, and outlast her grandkids.

I am making a path from one door to the next where years of little feet will make paths to my back door.

And I don’t care if the grass is greener as long as I can play in what is there.

There comes a time when you have to assess what you are doing to see if it is working.  And as harsh as it sounds, there comes a time you have to admit defeat and try something different.

Extreme low carb dieting did not work for me.  Now, I could not tell you why.  I have no clue.  I read the books.  I did it letter perfect.  I lost weight the first week, never to lose again. 

And after three or four months of it not working, and even registering a gain, I admitted defeat and moved on to the next thing.

After a year of jogging produced only a 27 pound loss, I had to admit this method was not going to work for me either.  Unless I was OK with not making goal till 2038.

Sometimes, we think that we can force something to work for us.  I wanted that jogging to work for me in the worst way.  But who wouldn’t want that to work?  You see, I made no changes to my eating habits.  And who wouldn’t run a few miles a day to eat anything they wanted to?

But reality had to kick in.  I had to admit that my plan failed.

I was all about the low carb thing as well.  My goodness, you bet this 256 pound chick wanted that way of eating to work.  I mean, I could eat as much meat as I wanted.  What obese person wouldn’t love this?  This is practically a dream come true.

But I felt bad.  My skin grew sallow.  My energy plummeted more each day.  And, I don’t want to scare you, but….I….wasn’t….perky.  I was bleak.  I was moody. 

And, y’all…Adina doesn’t do moody.  I have three moods: perky, perkier, and disgustingly, vomit-inducing perky.

So…again, I had to admit defeat.

But admitting defeat did not make me lose the war.  It meant I had to go back and prepare myself for battle.  It meant I had to find another method of attack.

And you know what?  I won that war, because I was brave enough to admit defeat.

Two roads diverged, and I took the one many take, but few stay on.

Look at what you are doing.  If you have been doing the same thing for six months with no changes, it’s time to do something different.

They say insanity involves doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.  Doesn’t that make obesity eating the same thing over and over expecting to lose weight?
Today might just be a good day to raise your white flag and admit defeat.

You can’t make a plan of attack if you are stuck in a fox hole.

This will be as close as you see me get to venting…but hold onto your hats.  Reading experience to follow!

Whenever I have the same event happen twice in a small time frame, my mind immediately thinks I must get this point across to my readers.  Well, twice in the last few days I have made someone mad by not replying to their cries for help quickly enough.

People, people, people, listen here!  (Y’all know my feathers are ruffled because I said your name three times.)

YOUR weight loss is YOUR responsibility and YOURS alone.

I get quite a few calls for help.  I spend probably 20 hours a week answering E-mail questions for help and guidance.  If you message me, and I hope you do, you can count on a two week lag time before I reply.  Especially if you want some specific help.

I always open my messages each day to make sure nothing needs immediate attention, but as a general rule, it will take me some time to get back to you.

But twice in the last few days, once in person and once through the message boards I was requested to come up with a diet for two different people….with absolutely no information given to me.  And this is something I am more than happy to do, but this takes time.  You see, I don’t keep generic responses.  I read each request and take it to heart…and reply to each as an individual worthy of spending time on.

And here’s where it gets sticky….in both cases, the asker gave up on me and griped when I didn’t give a response in less than 24 hours.   They gave up. That fast. 

Or did they really give up on themselves?  Again.

If you are putting all your eggs in someone else’s basket…don’t. 

Carry your own. 

When I started out, I had no clue either. 

I would sit on the floor for hours at the diet and nutrition section of Books-A-Million and read.  I became a walking encyclopedia of diets.  I knew them all.  I even read the ones I had no intention of trying….like the Blood Type diet.  I’m not going to ever try that…but I could tell you about it.  I’m O+.  I should eat the Akins way.  See.  I read.  I learned.  I studied.  I knew.  I knew them ALL.

I did the same with cardio.  I sat on the floor and read every book about every form of cardio I could find.  I read about running marathons when I could only walk a mile. 

And, you guessed it, I did the same thing with lifting.  I got this information more from the magazine section though.  I sat and looked at pictures of proper forms for weeks before I ever ventured from the free weights to actually practice what I saw.

No one is born with the skills to build a sculpted body.  It’s a learned skill.

No one is born knowing what diet works best for them, again, it’s a learned skill.

So to use, “I don’t know where to start,” will simply not cut it.

If you are expecting someone else to do all the thinking and all the working for you, or if you give up in less than 24 hours waiting for a reply….you do not want it as badly as I did.

Get up.  Dust yourself off.  Go to the bookstore.

There is a book with your name on it.

But….you might want to start with The Power of Positive Thinking….because that’s what it’s going to take, my friend.  That’s what it’s going to take.

Losing weight will not free you from having bad days.  Lifting is not the key to a stress-free life, and cardio is not a way to run from your problems.

As harsh as it sounds, bad days will always be a part of your life. 

So to use the fact that you are having a bad day to derail your progress is, well, a bad idea.

If your child has a bad morning, do you tell them to blow off the day of school as they grab their backpack and exit your car?

Can the preacher just skip his Sunday morning sermon because things just didn’t go his way?

Is it a good idea to call in sick from work for a week after breaking up with someone?

No. 

Because we still have to function. 

Even on the worst of days, bills must be paid, housework must be done, and life must go on.

Yet so many people use the fact that their life isn’t the way they want it to be to skip exercise, neglect their diet, and let their gym membership lapse.

People, listen here!  Your life not being the way you want it to is not a free pass from diet and exercise.  It’s all the more reason to get your booty in the gym.

Put a one year stamp on this one.  (Usually I use a ten year stamp.)

One year from now, will you be glad you let your problems get in the way of your goals?  Will it have helped anything?  Will your life be better because, yet again, you failed to realize the importance of making a plan and sticking with it?

I can have a bad day and eat clean food.

I can have a bad day and lift. 

I can have a bad day and run.

Using a bad day or the fact that your life is just not the way you want it to be is simply not acceptable. 

It took me two years to get my weight off.  If you think I had 730 days in a row of problem-free days, you would be wrong.  Oh, and there was a leap year in there.  Make that 731 days.  No.  I did not have 731 trouble free days. 

In fact, I endured a break-up and the death of both of my dad’s parents during that time.

And you remember, I told you that I would go to the bookstore every Friday night to look at the muscle magazines.  That wasn’t for fun.  That was because I had no other plans.

But you know what?  It takes a bad day to appreciate a good one.

I appreciate the joy of a size 8, because I know the heartache of a size 26.

I appreciate the thrill of going to shows like the Europa, because I know the loneliness of just reading about them on a Friday night.

I appreciate the hilarity of someone calling me a hot soccer mom, because I know the embarrassment of someone telling my sons their mom is fat.

Bad says multiply future joy.

Letting a bad day derail you today?  This day.  This very day is the reason you will understand, grasp, and appreciate your future good days.

My life is so good now that I would go back and relive every bad day I ever had just to get here again.  It’s THAT worth it.

Grab your bad day and head to the gym.  Run to your future.

So I took a day off from work today to do some things to get the boys ready for school.

Shopping.  Hair cuts.  School supplies. 

And isn’t it neat that every year in August, they get the chance to start over?  A chance to be something they weren’t the year before.  A chance to walk in with a new wardrobe, new shoes, and a new haircut.  A chance to be somebody different.

And sometimes schedules aren’t desired.  Or they get third lunch.  Or there are no classes with best friends.  But no matter what, when they walk in that door, they know this is only temporary.  This is just the next nine months. 

Losing weight is this way.

But the good news is you don’t have to wait till September to start.  You can start right now.  Your body will not know it’s the end of a month.  Or that it’s not a Monday.

No matter how much you need to lose, think back to when you were a kid in school.  That first day, even though you were filled with excitement, there was still this looming this-seems-like-forever feeling.  Not because you hated school, but because you were ready to get to the next phase of your life: freedom.

And let me tell you, losing weight is freedom. 

Freedom for the heart, the mind, the body, and the soul.

So treat your journey like a kid at school.

Pour yourself into it.  Apply yourself.  Make good choices and make good grades! 

And when you fail a test or call in sick, don’t be a drop out.  Go back.  Catch up on what you missed.

Do a few extra workouts and get some extra credit.

Go to gym class every day.

Pack a healthy lunch.

Be kind to your classmates.  They don’t know how hard you’re working.  And they’re not really that bad.  You’re just irritable.  And you’ll be glad you kept your patience.

Listen to your teachers and the alumni.  In fact, listen to anyone who can help you, whether they are your teacher or just a kind face that has been in your shoes.

Pay attention to your report card.  Notice if you are making progress.

And yes, conduct is important too.  As it will be all your life.  Know when to shut that pie hole!

And when the next school year rolls around, you get a fresh start.  And you will need a new wardrobe, because your old clothes do not fit.  For the first time, you will have under-grown those clothes!

And you will need new shoes, because you wore your old ones out.

And you will need a new schedule, because you understand the need to fit in time for yourself at the gym.

And it won’t matter what lunch period you get, because clean food is clean food no matter when you eat it.

But this time…this beginning….is more important.  It’s not the beginning of the next nine months.  It’s the beginning of the rest of your life.

And you will know…a year of hard work was worth making it to graduation.  And you may even go back and be a teacher, because you like it that much and you can’t imagine living any other way.