I Have Failed as a Dog Mother

My dog has a bald spot.

This is not because he is old, Barney will only be 3 in three months. As far as I'm aware, black labradors are not prone to losing their fur, and when it comes to diet, he eats cleaner than me. Barney has never known the siren's call of high fructose corn syrup (seriously, one day I'm going to get sued for this). And yet, there it is, a small yet not subtle line of hairlessness on my little boy's barrel chest.

The cause? I can only assume it comes from laying around all day on couch, carpet, or concrete. With that in mind, I think I just found my new walking buddy. No more lazing about and sleeping all day for him! It's time to work out! It's time to enjoy the fresh out doors! It's time to play in lakes and hike on trails! Go! Fight! Win!

Oh Lord, did I just become the soccer mom of dog owners? I think I did. 'Til then, I think I'll let my little buddy enjoy his nap on the couch while I tickle his feet and generally annoy the snot out of him.

Here's to running buddies with or without hair on their chests!

Saint Ralph

I'm so impressionable.


No, seriously, I really am. Especially when it comes to movies. No, let me take that back, especially when it comes to sports movies. Give me a good training montage with soaring violins, or electric guitars, and my little soul grows three sizes and I become one with Rocky, or Rudy, or Ralph. That's right, Ralph. As in, I just watched this movie tonight, and not only did I laugh constantly, but I also became fully convinced that even I could win the Boston Marathon.


Secretly, I've always wanted to be a runner. Unfortunately right now with my IT Band, I'm doing good to be a walker, and it's incredibly frustrating. Like frustrating to the point of wanting to kick something, but then I remember that it's actually my IT Band that keeps me from being able to kick things. This is a circular form of madness that can lead me to near "Hulk Smash!" levels of anger. Luckily I find a different means of catharsis before my freckles fade to jade. Hey, that rhymed!


Ok, so if it's just the knee problem, I still find that as a pretty lame excuse for not running. Excuse number two is my complete and utter lack of endurance. For some reason when my legs begin to move slightly faster than a snail's pace, my lungs decide that the apocalypse is near and I go into full fledged hyperventilating melt down. This has happened my entire life. I seriously do not understand how runners control their breathing! Is there a method to this? Is there some way of training for it? Can Google give me the answer? Probably. I should look that up some time.


Excuse number three for not being a runner has to do with my pride. I'm an eat the whole elephant in one bite kinda gal, so I don't do so well with the baby step method to life. I'll jump straight into the deep end before dipping a toe in the water, and I've been known to do it fully clothed (making sure that I've atleast removed my cell phone from my pants), thankyouverymuch. Road signs in Ireland mean nothing to me, they are mere suggestions when driving on ice. Need someone to remodel a bathroom? Hand me a sledge hammer and a remote control, and HGTV and I will get the job done. So, when I want to "go for a run", and by the fourth house on my street I'm completely gassed out and sucking wind, I struggle a little bit. Mind you, I can walk with ease, but picking up that pace and learning to run? And you may as well get the oxygen tank and defibrillator ready, it's gonna get bad.


And I hate that about me.


I actually dream about running sometimes. Heck, in a lot of my dreams I can run huge distances. Some people dream of flying, I dream of running. And when I run, I feel the same exhilaration of the wind in my hair, and the freedom to go where I choose. One of these days I'll get there. One of these days I'll lace up my tennis shoes, head out the door, and enjoy the rhythm of my own feet. One of these days I'll swallow my pride and start with my baby steps, and those steps may even lead to a marathon.


Only, seriously? That's a race named after someone who died doing it. How about I shoot for a nice 42.195 kilometers instead? And possibly in Chicago instead of Boston. Fewer hills and more pizza there.

Where Have I Been?

So, it's time to fess up and let you know what's been going on these past several months that this blog has been silent. First off, let me say that at the time of my last entry last year (prior to starting this thing back up a few days ago), I was working part time, taking 18 hours of school, and working out a lot. Some of that changed in January of this year when I lost the part time job I had, but continued to take another 18 hours of school and work out a lot. It was a really great time in my life, but too many Statistics classes later, and I think my brain might have melted just a wee little bit. I also think the phrase "wee little bit" is grossly under utilized.


That describes what I was doing, but falls terribly short of telling you what was actually going on. What was going on were some of the hardest working days of my life (unfortunately without the benefits of actually being a job). I was graduating from college, and hitting the gym constantly. I met Adrianne, aka The General, and began having my butt handed to me every Monday and Wednesday morning. At the end of the summer I started to throw in Kenpo work outs for that extra bit of cardio. I was constantly sweating. Constantly. And all of this hard work and determination yielded me 43 pounds gone. Yeah, it was anti-climatic for me too. The nice thing is that total I'm down 63 pounds, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish that number was higher. I mean, I work hard when I'm at the gym, like Biggest Loser style hard. I work through exhaustion (like, I get stupid tired up there sometimes), I work through pain (hello IT Band), why am I not getting Biggest Loser numbers and checks for $250,000?

Well, lots of reasons. First of all, while I do work long and hard, I have only ever maxed out at about 3 hours worth of working out at any given time. Maybe 3 1/2. These guys work out for 6-8 hours in a day. I still haven't figured out how that's humanly possible, but I'm will to find out!  Secondly, and this is the biggest of all, I stink at dieting. Six years ago I lost 118 pounds because I started working out in the mornings, and cut out all fast food. Now, at the time I was eating out literally three meals a day at LEAST five days a week, with several weeks being all seven days. My body didn't have high fructose corn syrup in it, I WAS high fructose corn syrup. So several months of morning cardio, and eating only from the house, and voila! I hit the century mark of weight loss. Then slowly yet surely, the work outs got back burnered, and the food got nasty again, and I welcomed back 80 of those old friends back onto my 5'4" frame. Hence why I will sometimes say that I've lost 43 pounds, and sometimes say that I've lost 63 pounds. It all kinda depends on if I'm needing to remind myself that this is a journey I have been on for a long time, and am continuing on for the long haul, or not.


So, why hasn't my body completely rebounded to it's former 118 pound less glory? I mean, I don't really eat any fast food anymore, and my diet is much MUCH cleaner all the way around than it used to be? The honest answer is, I'm not sure. But I know it's diet related. Because I can't possibly sweat any more than I already do. As I write this I'm looking at the clock to see how much time I have left before I have to leave to go meet with The General. This is not due to lack of effort. I do believe it's due to bad food. When I talk to trainers, they all agree that I'm not eating enough. Awesome. More on that in future postings. Here's what I know for sure...I'm not quitting. Ever. Like, I've fully resigned to being sore well into my 60's and 70's should I make it that far. And while it may be slower going than I'd really like, this Kelly is in fact shrinking, and will continue to do so for a long time to come. So, this isn't some twelve-week long project that I come out of with a tight body and a movie contract, this is a much much longer endeavor that is frustrating, exhausting, and frequently I want to quit. With all that being said...who's in? Because I am.

How to Write

I've had this theme playing around in my head over the past few days, of friendship. See, I'm writing this blog, and I'm 99% sure that the only folks actually reading it are friends of mine...except for the folks from Germany, Norway, and Russia that have peeked in. That threw me. Really? Russia? I'm pretty positive that makes me heroic in my own eyes. Nonetheless, the other, VAST majority consists of people, who, if blogger actually named names, I'd know. These are folks I have laughed with, cried with, poked fun at, or been mercilessly slaughtered in the poking fun by. One thing I know, I can beat them all at Mariokart for the Wii...but I digress. They are my friends. And in that understanding, there is quite a bit of safety on my part for being open and honest here. Which ironically, only makes for a better blog. So, thank you friend, for taking the moment to read my ramblings. I treasure you.


Which leads me to why I've been thinking about relationships lately. I read a blog by Donald Miller in which he says that the best advice he had ever received in regards to writing, was to love his reader. I laughed at the simplicity and beauty of this notion as I was reading it yesterday thinking, "Donald Miller has never, and probably will never meet me, but he wrote his blog to extend a little bit of love my way". And that, is awesome. I want to write like that. I want to always keep in mind that whether the person I am writing to be a friend or stranger (hello new friend in Germany!), that I am sensitive to loving them, either through my open struggle with weight loss...this is after all the Incredibly Shrinking Kelly, or laughter...because this is after all the Incredibly Shrinking Kelly. After all, I am not writing a blog as a place to keep my thoughts, my own skull does that quite well, but as a way of sharing a bit of my life with you, in genuine hope that my words, words, words, can make their way through the jungle of the internet to touch your heart. To connect. To join in our shared experiences of food, exercise, or just plain complaining. Because the fact that you read this means the world to me.  But what matters more, is the fact that you care. And that, I'll appreciate always.


So, if that makes me a better writer, so be it. Because knowing how you have supported me through life, through facebook, through all kinds of means and modes, has made me a better me. Even you, Norway.


Tomorrow I'll break my "not writing every day" vow (again...I know), and actually update with what's been going on this past year...or just jump in where I am now. I'm really not sure which one y'all would be more interested in? If folks comment, I'll go with it, if not, I'll just flip a coin. But either way, enough with this sentimental stuff, I'm bringing on the whining.

Self Control is Not my Forte.

Ok, so I'm intentionally NOT writing every day, because I want to be consistent. I understand that that sentence makes very little sense. What I mean is, I know I would never (ooooh, dangerous word) keep up a daily routine of talking about this journey, so I want to keep up a consistent routine of posting, which means I want to hold to an every couple of days routine. My excessive use of the word "routine" both makes my little writing heart die, and my more mischievous side just want to randomly start using the word "routine" all of the time...you might even say, in a routinely manner. Oh mylanta, that has to stop. See which side wins?

New paragraph, in hopes that the prior paragraph gets erased from all memory.

So here's what made me break my own unspoken code of "you will not post again on Sunday, you will not post again on Sunday", I looked at my blog stats. I looked at my blog stats, and 67 of you lovely people have looked at my blog since yesterday afternoon. Sixty Seven (and no, that doesn't count my own neurosis going back and looking at the blog every 45 seconds to see if anyone commented, and then basing my own acceptance and self worth on that answer, otherwise the number would be like 1,200 page views, and clearly it wasn't. That, and there's this lovely little button that blogger has that says, "don't count my own page views", which is nice because it means I'm not the only neurotic one out there hoping that a blog makes me feel loved). But alas, the comments remained blank, though I did get a tweet from my friend Cody! Hooray! And a "like" or two on facebook, and even a comment on there! I AM loved! I AM loved!

So here's the sick and twisted part of this. Though I am being very silly, and hopefully that is obvious, there is actually a danger in writing blogs, to begin to let your comments, retweets, and page views dictate your mood and heart. So, I wanted to get this out there early on: I am going to do my very best to not let this happen. But I know me. I'm still the girl who weighs herself *nearly* every day (this is a step in the right direction since it's no longer absolutely every day) and often times allows the number on said scale to affect me way too much. Everybody says get rid of the scale, but that's not happening any time soon.Would it be healthier for me? Of course. But here's the deal, I don't want to use this blog to paint the bright and shiny portrait of a girl who conquers this problem of weight loss one pound at a time! I repeat, I don't want that. I want to use this blog to tell honest stories of a girl who is really working her butt off to beat a life long issue, and sometimes gets her own butt handed to her...ok, who's kidding...more often than not gets her but handed to her. And sometimes by my own mind. So this means frequent confessions to the not so pretty side of weight loss. As Elisabeth Elliot says, "It's not about ending the struggle, it's about struggling well". Or as The Village Church says, "It's ok to be jacked up, it's just not ok to stay there".

SO! Here's to being excited that 67 people decided to read my silly thoughts, but never letting the posts where a big fat zero people view it ruin my day. Or at least not hacking my roommate's facebook account to go to my blog to increase my page views, and thereby my self esteem. 

How Rachael Changed My Life

Is this thing still on?

It's like I walked into an auditorium, got all of the fan fare going, and then simply left the stage. This is not a good way to start a blog, but it is true. So, for anyone awaiting an update on here, please forgive me, and don't eat the donuts in the back, they've surely gone stale by now. Of course this is a blog about weight loss, so, just don't eat donuts. Ever. Unless you subscribe to the moderation in all things diet, but I could never actually handle that, which leads to deeps feelings of shame and regret, which then drives me back to the donuts I was only going to eat in moderation, but now am eating because I feel like a colossal failure, and am wondering by now if anyone will ever love me because I can't fix my feelings with donuts and expect someone to fall in love with that girl, which means that I'll become the cat lady, even though I'm not the biggest fan of cats, and probably sit on my front porch alienating my family and yelling at kids for walking on my grass (please, I live in Texas, let's be honest and call it my unprocessed hay), and I might even get a shot gun just to scare them, though I'd never have it loaded, but it'd be a great scare tactic, which would probably land me in prison. So, now if I eat a donut, I go to prison. 

Welcome to how my mind works.

So, I repeat...is this thing still on?

Confession #2, I almost had to start a new blog because I lost both my username and password to this one. Awesome, right? In a word, no. But the other day I was playing with the idea of starting a blog about my attempts to lose weight this year, when I remembered, oh yeah, I already had that idea! After about an hour or so of trying to hack my own account, I finally remembered the correct combination of both a username I never use, and a password about as familiar as Siberia (though I wouldn't mind actually checking that place out one day), I got in. Then I was tired of messing with stuff, so I wrote down the info and left it behind for a week.

If you are still reading this, and you haven't abandoned me on sheer principle, thank you! Now to actually get busy writing about life! :)

So, what prompted this sudden return to blogging? Well, a couple of things. 1) I've actually been doing quite a bit of writing lately in an attempt to write a 10 week study on the book of 2nd Timothy. Yes, I've actually been splitting a 4 chapter book of the Bible into 50 lessons. Yes, this sounds and feels like overkill. Yes, I absolutely love it. But in the midst of writing the 200 or so pages it's going to wind up being, I realized that I needed another creative outlet for writing, because, quite frankly, if all I ever wrote about was the Apostle Paul, and how we simply don't understand how much God actually loves us, I was going to get stabby. Yes, I just said that writing about God's love sometimes makes me stabby. Honestly, I cannot imagine a better way to spend my time than studying God's word, and writing down what He shows me in it, in a desire to share that with other folks one day and hopefully, by His grace, see them get to know Him better. But, sometimes I wanna talk about something else. Sometimes I wanna talk about Romans, or Genesis, or why I have my leg propped up on a pillow when I sit on the couch. You know, applicable stuff like that. So, I decided to resurrect this blog. Insert vague zombie reference here.

2) I was at a Bible Study that I go to this past thursday, when my friend Rachael came up to me. This study was on the annual summer hiatus prior to the week before, and Rachael missed the first week back, so we'd gone a whole summer and a week without seeing each other. She came up to me and we shared our "oh man, I've missed you"s when she said, "Michelle told me you've lost weight, and you really have! You look great!" I cannot tell you how stoked I get when folks notice. It's like crack for me. (Wait, can I make both a zombie reference, drug reference, AND Biblical references all in the same blog posting? I will probably get an email for this.) I said, "Yeah, I've been working really hard at it", and she said, "Yeah, I've been following on Facebook, but then noticed that you stopped talking about it".

I swear to you, it was like lightening struck my head right then and there. Some folks get light bulbs, I get lightening bolts. I said, "Really? I figured folks were getting tired of me constantly talking about going to the gym", and her reply was priceless, "Actually, no, I was really encouraged by it".

So at that moment I knew, The Incredibly Shrinking Kelly would have to begin again. And there would be the need for filler posts to talk about the last year of my life, and there would be the need to write often in order to catch everyone up to where I am now, and there would need to continue to be pillows to prop my knee up on (more on that later, but spoiler alert: I done jacked up my IT Band), but it could be done. It could be done because it was something that gave me great joy to do, and encouraged at least Rachael's heart. It could be done because it wasn't the same type of writing I am doing for the 2nd Timothy book at all, and that creative outlet might actually make the other writing better. It could be done because, well, it can be done.

So...I'm stepping up to the microphone to let you in on my weight loss journey yet again. I hope this thing is on, and please, for the love of freedom and children, stay away from the donuts.