Monthly Archives: September 2011

Mouse Ears


It’s time to follow the bouncing ball and whistle along (unless you are me and are unable to make any kind of whistling noise):


God, I used to love those sing-along videos! We had at least 10 of them growing up.

We also had Disney story time records, like this one:

We were, obviously, the most annoying kids EVER.


And, as a kid in the 90s, who didn’t dream of getting the Michelle Tanner treatment or having Jon Stamos and his fake band sing to you?


I have been to the actual Disney World twice in my life. The first time, the only thing I can remember is that my three year old sister got lost at our hotel (spoiler alert: we found her). The second time, we were reluctant teenagers who secretly loved it until a creep-o in a Donald Duck costume “accidentally” felt us up as my mom snapped pictures. Either way, I’ve been dying to go back as an adult.

And now, with the help of a very patient and cooperative boyfriend, I get my wish! But I’m not just going to Disney World… I’m going to Disney World during the Christmas season! Yes, I realize that the crowds will be nuts and that I am going to be spending a ton of money on vacation when I could spend it on lovely readers like yourself. But when I see pictures like this:

And videos like this:

I just cant help but ignore the price tag and the potential screaming kid/annoying tourist/pushy picture takers in favor of this experience.

To curb costs, we are staying in the value resorts (meh) and are planning simple breakfast and lunch combos that will have us avoid expensive cart or restaurant food. I’m also purchasing all Christmas gifts way in advance (as in, I may have already bought one or two of them). Our big splurge will be dinner at the restaurant Jiko in the Animal Kingdom Resort, and I’m working on some Disney-esque surprises for B. Besides our Summer Camp misadventure, this will be our first vacation together in the two years we’ve been dating and living in sin, so I’m going to try to make it extra special!

And yes, we did discuss going to Harry Potter World, but it’s not worth the price to pay for admission and logistics from our Disney World resort to Orlando Studios. Some other day, Hedwig.

I realize that this post has NOTHING to do with my weight loss (I gained .4lbs this week- read about it in my weight loss page) or running (treadmill runs will dominate this rainy week). BUT with the insane stress I am under and the emotional week I’ve had, this is my mental health post for the week. Only 80 more days till we land!


Things That Do Not Suck


Oh! My blog! Another week has gone by and I’ve only put one entry in you. Like a dissatisfied husband, you are bugggggging me to get back on you. Well, I’m here. But I make no promises that this will be insightful or even witty. Hell, just from this paragraph, you can tell this is certainly not going to be funny.

I started grad school last night. That’s right. I’m back in the classroom… part time… I’m taking one-two class per quarter through the School of Education. I should graduate in 2.5 years with a Master’s in Higher Education Administration and Policy.

My orientation was a BLAST. I won a water bottle, believe it or not, for being sociable. Yes, I know, me + sociable = yeahhhh right. But, I am really good at making people fill out a personality bingo card for me. It was one of those where you had to find someone in the room that had 4 siblings, no middle name, was on tv, or is in a band.

The people that I did meet at this orientation were all very bright and eager. They looked like catalog representations of what grad students should be- perky, put together, professional. They all spoke like speech pathologists when they introduced themselves and later discussed their ideas for their Master’s project (a 120+ page paper on an issue or question in higher education).

I felt so out of place with my wrinkled clothing, messy hair, and makeup-less face. In fact, I felt pretty out of the grad school student realm, even though I spend every day working with them. Even my Master’s project ideas seemed a bit juvenile compared to their War and Peace esque thoughts.

(Btw. My idea was something along the lines of: “Measuring up non-traditional and rural high school students in the undergraduate admissions process.” I.E. How do you assess a student from a home school background or those who were not offered AP credits or pre-college courses compared to those from traditional or college prep schools).

Even though I felt a bit out of place, being in that room certainly did not suck. I was inspired and motivated. And I AM PUMPED to make a difference for college students.

Ok, so that didn’t suck. Also not sucking was my vegan apple pie and lasgna recipes. I am getting so much better in the kitchen.

That apple pie also pushed me to run my longest run since my half marathon a month ago. On Sunday, I finally got in a pretty decent 7.5 mile run along the lake path. It was raining. It was somewhat cold. But I got it done. And I even took 10 minutes to look over the water and think, “Some people go to church Sunday morning. I go to the water and think about how much better my life is.”

And finally, certainly not on my suck list is Ms. Julianna K’s sidewalk artwork. Let’s do a little compare and contrast: All’s I’m saying is girl got talent with the sidewalk art.



All’s I’m saying is girl got talent with the sidewalk art. She certainly does not suck at all.



Weigh-in days. I wake up, nervously, and being the weigh-in routine:
6am wake up
Forget that it’s Wednesday
Walk around the apartment aimlessly while admiring my fantastic bed head
Make it to the bathroom after several circles around the kitchen counters
As I turn on the showers, realize that, MY GOD, it’s WEDNESDAY.
Turn on the Wii Fit and attempt to place the board in the exact place as last time.
Curse as the tv’s Wii Board berates you for not checking in since last Wednesday
Notice how disheveled my Mii is. And wonder why my belly is sticking out of my shirt. Do underweight Miis have baggy, hobo looking clothes?
Quickly tear off the layers of bed clothes I have on so I dont get charged a single ounce more.
Wait… wait… measuring… measuring… measuring… ALL DONE! wait… wait… wait…
Watch as the BMI meter shouts out “Overweight!” and it makes the “wah-wah-wah” music
BUT, happily dance as I see that I’ve actually lost weight this week.
Get pissed when it’s only 2 ounces.
Remind myself that it IS 2 ounces.
Hear the water splashing in the tub and run off mindlessly…

Yes, I lost 2 ounces this week.

It’s better than nothing? Or gaining. Or being back to the 30lbs heavier weight than I was one year ago.

It all counts, right? Every stinkin’ ounce adds up… eventually.

And I have been loosing inches. Thank gawd. SOB and I went on a home goods Target run on Monday. And while he was on a search for ironing boards and the elusive $3 iron, I went straight for the jeans. All day long, I wondered “Could I be a size smaller now?” I hadn’t really tried on any smaller pants over the last year, so maybe this was my time. I grabbed a pair of size ___ and a pair of dockers in the same size and headed for the changing room.

I’m not joking when I say it took a bit of courage to even put them on. I’ve tried this song and dance before, and I always end up frustrated and (admittedly) in tears. But I’ve ran a half marathon. I can freakin’ try on a pair of pants!

So, I did. The first pair, the dockers, were tight, but buttoned up and zipped. If it weren’t for some obvious rolls going on, I’d count it a success. The jeans, on the other hand, slipped over my thighs like it was nothing. And as I buttoned the top button and zipped the fly, I looked up to see someone standing in her perfect sized jean. No rolls, no muffin tops, no fly or button ready to burst.


They just fit. I did some squats in them, just to make sure. And then a booty dance… just because.

I could have cried. Ok, I did cry. I hadn’t worn that size (correctly) since my freshman year of high school. And since the last thing to shrink on my body is always my stomach and hips, I couldn’t be happier to FINALLY see some tangible progress. It’s been a long, emotion sucking road.

Those 2oz are one step closer to getting me to a normal size. I just have to keep telling myself that, and occasionally checking in on the jeans department.

Weekend Warrior


After that last post and some misc. drahhhhhma… I’m officially blogged out.

But, if you want to read a poorly edited blog by me for Fleet Feet, check this out:

I did, however, have an AWESOME time at Dance Dance Party Party. I was again transformed in to DJ Chelles_Bells. DJ CB came to get down, came to get down, and there was a ton of jumping around. Check out the tunes:

I really have no shame when it comes to making these playlists. I think that’s why people enjoy them so much.

Anyways, this weekend also starts Biggest Loser Challenge 17 on Sparkpeople. I’ve got 5lbs to go in 3 months. I’ve already weighed in for this week (which you can check out on my weigh-in page). I’ll be updating that every Wednesday and hopefully getting the balls to add some actual measurements since pounds may never, ever go… but your waistline will.

So, to make sure I am getting the most out of BLC17, I am gearing up for a weekend of challenges. In addition to tracking all my food, getting in my veggies, and meal planning for the next week… I’m going to get my fitness on:

Friday night:
5K run
50 crunches
50 side crunches
5, 60 second planks

Spin class
New Rules workout

10K run
50 squats
50 lunges
pilate/yoga leg work

This weekend seems pretty laid back, so hopefully I’ll have enough time to get in all that stuff. If anything, I’ll watch the Bears game and eat some pancakes while doing lunges.

Wish me luck, my weekend warriors!

Pumped Up Kicks


Ahhh the holiday break… so relaxing… so freeing… so full of tears.

Frack. That’s not right.

I’m really not going to go in to it here. It’s not helping that I am slowly sinking back in to the abyss called depression.

I’m honestly not sure what is wrong with me besides whatever chemical imbalance/genetic disposition is naturally there. Things are good. I’m active, in a city I love, working a job that is a blessing, AND I’m starting my Master’s degree in 2 weeks. I am loved to the core, and I’ve done a stellar job at distancing myself from people I feel will take away from that love.

And yet, here I am: Writing about depression like it’s my day job.

Frack. That’s not right.

Yesterday, I got up for my second attempt at an 8 mile run. The day before, my run turned in to a 5 mile therapeutic walk/cry. Thank gahd for sunglasses and naturally being sweaty. It kept most prying eyes off of me. But anyways, my second time around was similar to the first. I got out there and, almost instantly, everything started to hurt.

My heart hurt. My shins hurt. My brain hurt. My knees hurt. My thoughts hurt. I hurt.

Frack. That’s not right.

So I turned around and went home. No use trying to get a run started when there is obviously something bigger at work. I wish this blog could be about how I pushed through it and broke down some huge emotional wall. But, it’s not. I didn’t break anything down. If anything, I built some walls higher.

Not every run is life changing, soul altering. Some runs are complete failures toppled with a scoop of dog sh$t. We can promise ourselves otherwise, but we never know what tomorrow will bring… if we wont spend the next day crying over a party sized bag of pita chips or will be dining on steak and potatoes.

You cant promise yourself that it will be better. Especially when you are clinically depressed. Your lows are going to be real low. And your highs will be fleeting. Everything can and will change within a second. But you’ve got to deal.

I’ve been trying my best to take mental pictures of the good while it’s there. It’s like the Office wedding episode. I’ve been taking pictures of B and I playing monopoly and laying around Millennium Park. I’ve got a couple of my nephew running to me (he just starting walking!), and another of my niece making me a little stuffed animal craft. There’s one of me looking out at the water last weekend and another of me opening my acceptance letter for the Master’s program. I’m essentially trying to remember and preserve what it felt like to be truly present.

As for the lows, you promise yourself that you will try. Tomorrow is a new day, no matter how many times you try to pray it away. I tried to run again this morning, even after two emotion-fueled fails. And I did it. It wasn’t 8 or 6 miles. It was my normal 5K training run. And I did it in 35 minutes, a new PR. I, for the first time, averaged a 11:40ish mile for all 3 of them. And you bet the moment I looked down at my watch and realized what I had just done is staying in that mental photo album with the rest of the good.

Frack. That’s right.