Updates on #3 & #6

3. Eat with only chopsticks for one month (like the month of May)

Ok so I have been using chopsticks now for 17 days. I will say that I've forgotten to take them out with me (do to a lack of dish washing) maybe 3 times. Of course there are some meals you would not need chopsticks for. Example: a sandwich or sub, soup, and I have opted out of using them for yogurt (as I do have to work and live and stuff). I have decided to use them for my cottage cheese and have had no issues with this.

Overall I have actually loved this challenge. I still have meals when I just don't seem to have the knack and I get frustrated and want to spear them through the food or skip eating all together (or the obvious option - break them into bitty pieces). But for the most part I love them. I definitely slow down while eating (especially in the case of eating peas or brown rice), but there's something about using them that makes the food taste better. I don't know what it is but I like it.

I do still need to attack the noodles though, as they aren't really in our diet right now. I saw a lady eating some Thai noodle dish at the mall the other day and I was embarrassed for her in regards to her chopstick noodle eating skills. She looked like a barbarian. No judgment though.

I will press on and continue to perfect the art of eating with these long thin objects. I told Wally tonight that I thought that I would continue to use them even after my month is up. I guess we'll see. I think at the end of my forty days I should go out for Thai and get something with noodles just for fun.

Well ... maybe I'll order in.


6. 40 days (which I hope to turn into a lifetime) of super clean eating.

Yeah, so I haven't been perfect at the super clean eating thing but overall have done well. I've joked that flavoured rice cakes and chocolate protein shakes have become my binge foods. Never thought that would happen.

I have actually only really 'fallen off the wagon' once. It was last week during my serious case of the 'sads' and I actually went and bought a dozen bakery cookies at the grocery store and brought them home with me to melt my sorrows.

It was the first time in probably two and a half months, as Wally and I have been eating really well since we started training. That in itself is AMAZING for me. I used to binge (and I do mean binge, not merely enjoy) every single day on something sweet.

Anyways, I brought my cookies home and nestled into the couch before having to go back to work. I looked at them. Smelled them. Touched them. Then finally ate them. 1. 2. 3. 4. Then I decided that I was making a mistake - a huge mistake. I quickly crumbled the other 8 cookies into the garbage to be touched by all the grossities that lived there. (Yes, I had to do this because if I'd left them in the package I would have gone back and fished them off later and enjoyed every one. I am that sick).

For once rather than feeling guilty I felt proud of myself. Because a few months ago I would've told the little voice in my head to shut up (or other things) and I would've forged on with the gorging. It would not have been a big deal for me to have eaten 8 or 10, heck maybe even all twelve in one sitting - or at least during the evening.

Of course when I confessed to Dee the next day he was not so excited about my 'overcoming' of anything. He was mad. We started our time together with 100 jump squats on a very low lying bench, with weights. Which indeed took forever.

He followed it up by saying 'Now we'll start your workout' (rather sternly might I add).

That hour was the quietest I've ever been in a very long time, as obviously the silent treatment was in order for Dee. I refused to speak to him or let him 'analyze' me as he asked why I ate the cookies and if they helped me feel better. He continued to go on about him caring about my progress and blah, blah, blah. However I was a mess inside (as I was plagued with the 'sads'). I refused to talk to him and be at risk of letting the dam break. I knew that if I started to talk I'd burst into weeping tears and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction (however I so wanted to cry and just let it out).

I have since texted him and all is fine, however I know a serious talk is in order for us come Wednesday when I see him. I know he does care and it's only fair that I do my part to do my best. Sometimes I hate that.

So, though perfection is yet to find me I will keep trying to do my best. I continue to examine and re-examine what my long term goals are in this area of my life. But I'll have more on that later.

I still have lots more to update on but I think I will have to call it a night.

Hopefully more tomorrow!

Where to start ... ?

Wow. I don't even know where to start.

Seriously. Where?

I have completed a few more numbers on my list and look forward to writing about them this week. I also want to give an update on a couple of the ongoing numbers, and I will but I feel like I have a whole other conversation to have first.

Only thing is ... I don't know where to start.

Maybe I'll pick up where I was last week with my case of the 'sads'. First of all I want to say thank you for the encouraging comments left. They really did help me think and scrap my way through. Actually I need to be honest here. I'm not really through with the 'sads' but I'm at least squirming my way .... well somewhere. Hopefully somewhere else.

I am just beginning to realize and recognize my need for time. Time for me. Time to think. Time to breathe. Time to do what makes me feel 'alive'.

One of my bloggowers had a fantastic quote in their stati the other day that was a great reminder: "Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive" - Howard Thurman.

I have so many conflicting thoughts and feelings regarding me and time.

First of all there's my guilt complex. Guilt is my biggest enemy and it is so very good at it's job. Guilt makes me think I need to work the maximum hours allowed at work. Guilt makes me believe I have to make as much money as possible. Guilt makes me think that taking time to think and recover is selfish and a waste of time.

I hate Guilt.

Wally hates Guilt.

I'm glad we both feel the same way about my Guilt.

I never really recognized my incredible battle before now. I mean, when we got married I worked and we had a pretty equal income. Then Wally became unemployed for a while, had jobs that didn't pay that well and then was off to school. All of these things left me feeling the need to provide and make sure we had everything we needed.

The thing is that the plan was for me to do that for a while, until Wally had a decent job, so that I could then raise our family, because that's what I always dreamed of.

Well, Wally has a decent job with definite potential for a comfortable income (all things being relative to our old life). He loves what he is doing, which is the sole reason I pushed him so hard to go to school. I wanted him happy. Mostly 'cause I'm selfish and I wanted me happy.

There's been a snag.

While waiting 9 excruciatingly long years to start a family, I learned how to be happy where ever I was.

That's a blessing really. A huge incredible lesson. A gift.

BUT. Now that it's time for the 'family thing' I'm eager to do other things. To explore more education. To fulfill life long fitness goals. To be creative at my job and bring something new to the table.

I've also begun to dream about writing. I don't even know why, it's not like I have anything to write about. But I like it. I feel connected to others through it. I learn from other people's perspectives. I get to meet new and interesting people. I LOVE that.

I still think of being a mom. Mostly because I think there would be great writing material with it. But then again, mom's don't have time to write.

Wally is finally thinking of having a family. I'm about ready to kill him. As I have reminded him that I hounded for a near decade about it and now that I'm on to other things he's ready. (Seriously, he melts at the sight of a newborn and then starts to campaign with baby noises).

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know...

I was at a baby shower yesterday for my friend whom I wrote about a couple of months ago. I've decided that baby showers are going on my list of most unenjoyable events there are. At least the traditional ones.

You sit in a circle, as if at a seance (sp?), watching the mommy open up baby gifts ('Surprise!!! It's a sleeper!! Oh wow!!' - Actually I got a singing potty for her. It was on the registry. I need to do a whole other post on registries). During this time there is the passing of the baby, who is clearly on a mission to make every childless woman feel one of three things: deep longing to have her own - 'Awwww, I want one!', sincere embarrassment over the fact she has no idea what to do - 'Crap! Where does the head go?', or complete guilt over the fact she doesn't care two hoots about the kid 'Yeah, you're sleeping now, but I know what you do at 3am'.

Then you play ridiculous games and eat iffy food. (I actually won the 'draw a baby on a paper plate while it's on your head and you can't see it' game, oh yeah best baby drawing out of the 30 that were there - Booyah!).

I told Wally yesterday that if or when we ever have a living creature of the child-type persuasion join our home there will be no traditional showers filled with women sharing stories of leaky body parts. There'll be a ...party. 'nough said.

Anyhoo, where to end?

I'm sorting through some stuff in my head. Trying desperately to prioritize my life, my goals and myself. Feeling guilt over the fact that I'm burnt out after only a year in a new field. Even more guilt that I could even say I'm burnt out and have no children yet (I guess I figure children are a pretty good excuse for burn out). And perhaps a tad more guilt for not being brave enough to go after the reason I think one should feel justified for being burnt out.

Yeah. Clearly I've only started sorting the 'laundry' in my head. Oh well, at least I've started.

By the way, I'm actually considering going to 'talk to someone' about my laundry.

Well ... only the clean stuff.