Inspiration

I'm not inspired by arched-back, ass out bathroom selfies. I'm not inspired by flexing in the gym mirror selfies. I'm really not inspired by mostly naked look-at-me selfies with kids in the background. That makes me want to barf.

I am inspired by the overweight person who walks into the gym, scared as shit,  but even more scared of remaining trapped in a body they don't recognize.

I'm not inspired by the person who posts 800 race pictures and pouts when their 400 not-real-life friends don't comment on every one. I'm not inspired by those looking for constant pats on the back- you're not a dog. You don't need constant reassurance. If you do, you need to work on your outrageous insecurities rather than commenting on what everyone else is doing wrong.

I am inspired by those who get the work done every single day- in the gym and in life- without posting about it. I am inspired by those who share knowledge in a non condescending manner with a true passion for life- rather than a need to be "better than".

I am inspired by those who strive for growth. Those who look for ways to improve themselves in all ways. Life is more than running or squatting or even being a parent. I'm not inspired by those who quote things like "obsession is a word the weak use to describe the dedicated". No obsession is sometimes just that- unhealthy and unbalanced. I am inspired by those who are able to balance work, family, health etc.

Last Parenting blog for a bit I promise

I am sure any non-parent readers are bored as hell, but I gotta get this one out then I'll talk about fitness or swear or rant or something next blog.

My 3 year old is "vaccuuming" as I type this. I am waiting for my Mother of the Year award.
My 5 year old is giving me a commentary from the washroom as he drops a Number 2. I really enjoy these conversations about his poop. This makes me feel warm inside.

Jesus. This is my life.

It's actually pretty awesome- constant poop talk aside.

I had a conversation with some friends a few weeks ago about when I should put my daughter in preschool. It occured to me that she could go this coming Sept and then hit kindy the following year. I almost had a heart attack. I am not ready. My son was a no brainer as his bday is Sept. Hers is Jan so we have more decisions to make. The Beard and I decided it was best to keep her back instead of rush her in. While I yearn for two free mornings a week, I am not ready. And really why are we in such a damn rush to get rid of them??
A friend told me that her kids teacher said she has never said WOW I am so glad this kid started early, but she has said This kid isn't mature enough for kindergarten a whole bunch of times.

A thread came up on a Mom board I am on with some Moms complaining that their kids were so advanced but the age for kindy is 5 by March 1st (how arbitrary is March 1st btw?? that makes no freaking sense to me). A girl I know, who I actually love for her posts and sense of humor and logical thinking and I really would like to hang out with her and drink wine... anyways I digress as usual- so this girl said hey the guidelines are there for a reason and kids are rarely as smart as their parents think they are.
Like these moms really believe they must know better than education professionals. Yeah, sometimes mothers just KNOW. Half the time they are blinded by bias and love for their child and brain dead from too much to do and too little sleep. I know. I am one.

Thank God she said it so I don't have to. Don't get me wrong, I think my kids are amazing. Special, amazing, wonderful etc. Not genuises. Geniuses don't eat their boogers. I'm pretty sure that saying was in a movie, and it's something I am desperate for my kind to stop doing. I VURP every time I see him secretly shove that booger in his mouth. He's getting better. But seriously it's the most fucking vile thing I have to deal with.
I don't believe they will do anything they want. I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I have ZERO coordination and very little grace. Does that mean I suck at everything? Hells no. Does that mean if I put Rudy- type effort into becoming a dancer I could've done it and played for Notre Dame? Wake the fuck up.
I mixed analogies but I honestly don't know the name of any famous dancing place.

I will encourage them like crazy. I will teach them to get up and work hard and if you suck, work harder. I will NOT teach them they can be anything they want. I will encourage them to find what they love and do it, suck or not. My son will very likely not play in the NHL. He loves hockey though, so he will play for as long as he wants. Maybe he will play old man hockey, maybe not. Maybe his love of the game will diminish when he realizes he will not be the next Sydney Crosby. I sure as fuck hope not.

Maybe I am a destroyer of dreams. Maybe I am a cynical bitch and I should teach them to reach for the stars no matter what their dream!! That shit won't work in my house. We are realists. Bills gotta get paid, works gotta get done. That doesn't mean you have to dread the hours at your job. I freaking love my job. Is it my dream job? No. But it's pretty great, and stems from a huge passion of mine. So I am not wasting my life- and I won't let them waste theirs.

Seasons of life....

I promise to have less swear words than usual in this post. The subject just doesn't seem to fit a ranting line of F words.

Driving my kid to school this morning, I was struck by how tired I am. Generally tired. Maybe it just seems that way today as everything is darker and more exhausting when kids are sick and not sleeping at night. Life seems more bleak, carbs look more inviting and my body feels much heavier to carry around all day. Maybe because of the carbs. Lol. Today I felt almost too tired to want to eat shit. That for me is weird.

This is the season of my life. Being tired. Being busy- I hate answering "busy" when someone asks how I am. All the shit on my plate is there because I said yes. ME. No one else. If I am busy, it's because I choose to be. It seems like we tried to cut back the busy-ness but as the kids get bigger it grows. More school stuff, more activities, more demands. More demands on myself to BE something everyday.

I should say "glorious". I should say "My daughter wants no one but me to hold her at night when she is upset. Her little body snuggles right into me and her little chubby arms wrap around and it's amazing". Yes I don't. I think that sometimes, but sometimes I think holy shit kid just lie down before I fall on you.

I say my 5 year old is "willful". I mean hes a pain in the ass. Does that mean that if I had to make Sophie's Choice I'd throw him to the wolves? No of course not. But sometimes I can't beleive how angry I can become at his behaviour. I can't help but think wtf did I do wrong to make this child have zero listening skills? Will it serve him in the future to argue EVERYTHING?? It's probably his dad's fault. Not mine. Clearly his dads. Sometimes I want to smash my face into the wall if I hear fart-fart-poop one more goddamn time.

This season shall pass. I know that. Logically. I know my littles will be bigs soon, and I will desperately miss thier little snuggles and needs. The thought of it brings my tired eyes to tears, but I also just want no one to touch me sometimes. This season of my life is an insane combination of wanting to experience every moment of these little people, yet screaming with frustration at my lack of space.

I'm tired. And weepy. I watched Parenthood this afternoon (I gave the kids an ipad each and begged for 40 minutes of quiet) and bawled my face off. It's my littlest baby's bday today and i don't know how I will stay awake for cake.... and part of me wants to cry into the damn cake because she is 3 and an actual little person.
How can we possibly want to pull them back yet push them away all at the same time?

Whole30 equals WholeCrappy

I meant to blog about this on the weekend but got distracted. Distracted by food mostly.

If you follow me on Instagram, you would have seen the giant glass of wine I posted on Friday. Yes. Whole30 turned into Whole14. I was done. So I had two glasses of wine (BIG ass glasses) and some chicken wings. I don't feel bad. I made a conscious decision to quit.

I am not weak. I did not fail. Quitting is not always a negative thing.

For me, continuing would have gone bad. I could try to explain my complicated reasons, but I will break it down to control.
My need for control has ruled and dictated much of my life. Like many people, it served me in my profession and didn't in my relationships. When I found yoga, I found the beauty in letting go. When my husband shares lessons from AA, I learn more. I struggle all the time with falling into old patterns and will likely do so for the rest of my life....
Food control is a scary place for me. I have been down that road, and it's a dark one for me.
Obsessive thoughts about cinnamon buns and shit I don't even like; negative to the point of abusive self talk; binging and purging... it was a long time ago but apparently not long enough.

I generally eat well. I measure food and weigh to check portions- not all the time but frequently. I can go with or without the food scale and not freak. I can choose to eat a salad at a restaurant or choose to eat a burger and have limited guilt.
This Whole30 thinger brought back some memories of bad places. Some obsessive type thoughts... and it was only 14 days. I think it was the structure. The being told it WAS NOT ALLOWED. So far the only thing I have added into my daily meals is oats and one serving of rice but the thought patterns have changed immensely. Who knows why the brain works the way it does? All I know is, I was scared so I stopped.
Also I noticed zero improvement in pain levels. Perhaps because it was only 14 days who knows. I need to find another way.

I DID notice that less booze equals less water retention. Imagine (insert DUH you dumb shit meme here and big teenager type eye roll).

Judgements, creeping and clothes

This topic has been in my brain brewing for a while.

Today it comes out for two reasons. 1- a creep at the gym stared at me. I don't mean glanced for a second too long, I mean STARED. Did the old up and down twice. Until he went back up and realized that I was staring back at him with resting bitch face. Fuck off.
2- I had an online argument with a muscle hater. A female fighter was referred to as a "man without a dick". Why I bothered interacting with this C U Next Tuesday I will never know. Sometimes I still get sucked in despite my best efforts to resist. What is that saying about arguing with an idiot?

So here we go.

The Beard and I had a very long disagreement this holiday about a dress I chose to wear. Ok the argument wasn't so much about the dress, but about the behavior. Perhaps I act differently when I wear a dress and heels, perhaps he was more sensitive to my normal drunken behavior when I am wearing a short dress and heels. And it was hella short. Regardless, it bothered him so I needed to address it. Which I did. My point in bringing this up at this point is that he said during our argument that I was asking for attention and no wonder men may act inappropriately if I was wearing a short and tight dress.

WHAT THE FUCK.

So if I wear a skirt and get raped- is it my fault? Am I asking for it? This was a huge issue for me. HUGE. That of course was not his point, but it created a conversation with myself in my head.
Ergo this blog post.

I wear tights almost every day. Wanna know why? It's not because I want strange men to look at my ass. It's not because I am cocky and think I am the hotness. It because A) they fit and B) I don't trip over the legs. Seriously. I have had gym incidents where my left foot has been caught in the right pant leg and I have fallen down. I have also fallen down stairs. I kid you not. I am that uncoordinated sometimes.
Also they have a high waist and hold all my stuff in.

I wear tights to the gym too. Does that mean gym creeper has the right to stare at me and make me uncomfortable? THIS is why female only gyms exist and that really pisses me off. Females feel so threatened that they are afraid to work out in a large room with men?!?!? What the actual fuck is that about.

I am confident enough that I stare back. With a very specific FUCK YOU look on my face. I  have been in gyms for enough years that it's MY fucking safe place and I won't allow some creepy douchebag to make me feel weird about being there or wearing tight pants. Think I wore this for you asshole? If you continue to stand behind me while I do stiff legged deadllifts, I will fucking throat punch you.
I have altered my workouts and my workout times because I know I have to bend over and I won't do it at peak gym times. THAT pisses me off to no extent.

Back to the dress. I felt good in that dress. It was comfortable. It was cute and I felt good in it. So I wore it. Not for validation or pervy looks. Just like I wear tights. OR tank tops- you know what it's effing hot in there and I sweat like a dude. I do not nor have I ever worn just a sports bra. Its not THAT hot. Ever.

In my argument with online idiot, I asked why it's ok to say a muscled woman looks like a man without a dick, but to comment on a plus sized person is awful. BOTH are awful. That was my point. Who has the right to make someone else uncomfortable about how they look? Who the fuck do you think you are?
I don't need anyone but me to like how I look- and of course my husband to an extent. I know he would like it a bit better if I carried a little less muscle, but he still tells me I am beautiful. And means it.
I also don't need to hear that you hate how I look. Fuck you. Mind your goddamn business. Worry about yourself online bitch- I guarantee all that negativity spewing from your twat mouth comes from an unhappy person. Happy people just don't go around ripping other people to shreds. They just don't.

So strut it ladies. And gents. No matter what fucking size you are, no matter what you wear. No one has the right to make you feel uncomfortable. Strut that ass- big or small- and fuck 'em all.

Update for Real. With less swears.

I said I would update too and other than my rant yesterday I haven't.

I feel like shit.

Of course I lost the bloat. My joints feel less puffy (hands and knees) but my back is an absolute mess. My entire pelvis is locked up- which I am sure my mom wished was the case when I was a teenager harhar- but it's bad.
So bad I actually couldn't work out this week. My husband sometimes asks me how I am, but he is a man and.... well really, do I need to say more? He was a little shocked at my taking days off the gym. Like that is what showed him that I am actually fucked. But then he asked me to carry a giant tv out to the truck so...

I also know I am not eating enough calories. I am blah. Lethargic, unmotivated and crabby. Yes I get this happens. I understand correlation doesn't equal causation and the fact that I am eating this way doesn't necessarily cause the issues. The back issue was existing- but it's worse. The other variables didn't change.
There was a time in my life when I could get enough calories. Clean, gluten free, super low to no carb, etc. That time is not now. I am really worried about the lack of calories as I preach everyday to keep the calories up. Blahblahblah.
I will go for another week. Then fuck it. I will start to intro things back in. This week my goal is to simply eat more of what I can.

Oh and for the second time in my life I cheated on a strict diet. I added a tsp of coconut sugar to my coffee everyday bc the headaches were devastating.

Elimination Diet

So I said I would blog about this, but now I don't have a lot to say.
I am in pain pretty much all the time. My back is wrecked. It hurts if I work out, it hurts if I don't. My knees are also a problem. They hurt when I squat, lunge, do stairs, sprints and the bike. Not until the next day though, so I convince myself it's fine. Physio didn't help. Dr didn't help. Next step is.... what?
It all gets way worse with crappy diet. Arthritis, fibromyalgia all that crappy stuff. I was told 4 years ago to cut back on coffee, alcohol, sugar and grains to manage pain. I decided to listen.... now. lol.

I REFUSE to give up coffee. I will learn to love it black. For allllll the shit I have given up, I will keep coffee and those idiots who tell me it's SOOOOOO much better for you can suck it. Suck it hard. I am keeping the coffee. I can't be drunk to deal with people, so I had better be caffienated.

I am following the Whole30 plan. Basically I get to eat meat, eggs, veg, nuts and some fruit. That is all. Oh and coconut oil and some weird shit called ghee (which after some research is just clarified butter. Amazon sells it and I am sure it costs more than my grocery store butter melted down and clarified. Seriously people).

My husband is on board. And scared. By on board I mean he understands and won't come home with ice cream- not that he is doing it too. That would take a heart attack or an alien invasion. That's cool- I am tough. Just because I choose to do something for my own health doesn't mean I expect those around me to change their lives. This is an important idea many competitors forget. The world doesn't stop turning because you don't eat bread at this time. So suck it the fuck up.


I don't care about losing weight. Would I like this belly bloat from rivers of wine over the holidays to disperse? Fuck yes. Am I doing this to "cleanse"? Fuck no. I'll just get one of those "It-WORKS" wraps for that.

Ok I couldn't even type that shit with a straight face. Wraps. Seriously. STFU. Pay me $40 and I'll wrap you in saran. Call me a coach too, give me hundreds of dollars and I will give you some specifcally sized tupperware and some shit quality protein powder too. I could be rich!!

Why am I doing it? Other than pain management, and the fact that I had to quit tobagganing with my kids the other day- which killed me, honestly made me want to cry right there on the hill- because I am trying to avoid meds. The avalanche of meds designed to mask the pain, never to address the actual issue. I still don't know what the goddamn issue is even after a year of appointments and exercises and xrays. Part of me thinks maybe living in a medicated haze would be easier.. then I remember my babies. And the fact that they need a mom who is really HERE. Not a mom on meds. Not a mom on her goddamn phone. A mom who is physically and mentally WITH them.

The hypocrisy is that they are in the other room playing on iPads and I type this. Yeah, I get it. Do as I say not as I do. No one likes the asshole who points out the irony.
Today was my first 100% on day. Kale/ apple and some other shit juice for breakfast with an egg cup. Yes I am waiting for my husband to yell at me for spending $7 on juice. I am hoping he waits until the 3rd day when I am really pissy.
I had some nuts, some spaghetti squash with bison and sauce... and a fricking lot of tea. It's also cold as fuck here, so that helps keep hydrated I guess.
And coffee of course. I did have flavored coffee, but I figure I can't cut out that too or I might die. Black caramel coffee it is. It doesn't have sugar or sweetener in it so suck it. Life is too short.
I weigh 153 lbs. Honestly less than I thought after the holidays. That's only 3lbs up and I ATE. And drank. And have no regrets. Other than the fact that I can't demo a cobra pose when teaching yoga. lol. Do as I say, not as I do ;)

Namaste. Have a super day. Stay warm.