Friday, June 05, 2009

The Biggest Loser. For real.

Man, I really need to figure out how to become an actual member of the blogosphere. Today I tried to download a "widget" (wha?), and failed because apparently my "layout" was "disabled". My thousands of daily readers Grace has been bugging me for an "RSS Feed" (huh?) for a year, and I still can't seem to figure that one out. Um, help? Blogosphere? I did actually get a question about "technorati" right on Cash Cab the other night, but I still don't know what that means. After 3 years? I am a blogging misfit. But I am resolved to get this down. There has got to be some Complete Idiot's Guide out there for bloggers, eh? And maybe, just maybe, once I have figured this all out, the cool blog kids will welcome me with open arms, and my readership will quadruple! (4 readers some day! Imagine!) Lo, I have been slacking. But I will get better for you, Internet. Blog, or perish.

So, first things first: this. I have been reluctant to share this link with you all, as I have spent an exorbitant amount of time there over the last two months, and have shed many tears. I was trying to shield you all from the pain, I s'pose. I don't really have words. Just sending good thoughts to LA on a daily basis, and occasionally leaving a comment or two. Go there and read, and then send all of your good thoughts that way too.

Secondly, this social blog outcast ordered P90X today! I am frightened, yet enthused. I had seen the infomercial twice and seriously considered purchasing it then, but I always stopped myself, for I cannot be sold! (Shut up, Proactiv.) I told J about it a few months ago. Then, everywhere we went, people were chatting about this patented system of "muscle confusion". Word on the street is it works as it kicks your ass something fierce. J and I are interested in getting into tip-top shape this year, possibly before I go and get knocked up and promptly ruin my new ripped physique. But hey! This can only be good for you, Future HomeValleyians. I am doing this for the kids, y'all. This has nothing to do with bikinis. Nothing at all.

I was chatting with Allie about my purchase this morning, at which time she urged me (twice) to blog my progress, which seems like a noble idea, and possibly will help me through the rumored four weeks without carbs. (Hopefully, this will cause minimal marital strife. We love each other, but man, we love our carbs.) (Sweet, sweet carbs.)

So if we are going to do this, Internet, we are going to do this with full disclosure. I hate to mention numbers, as every frame is unique (and beautiful, super foxes!), but I feel (and a Self Magazine quiz backs me up) that my ideal, "happy" weight is around 130 pounds. This was me my junior year of college, maybe 130 - 132 pounds?

(If I was any kind of a real blogger, I would know how to write text on a picture and circle things, like have a little white arrow pointing at my belly, that says something cute like: "Hello, Belly!" But I live life on the outskirts, an edgier, freak of a blogger, who must write cute things in the paragraph below.) I use this picture - which really doesn't show much of my physique - as this was The Time of My Best Figure, as I recall fondly. I had zero qualms about hopping into a bikini and talking to boys (Those flowers were from a boy!) I had just turned 21 and I ran shit, like Oprah. This was taken in my first William Street apartment. What was my secret? I lived solely on pasta with tomato sauce, chicken with pasta with tomato sauce, baked veggies (a specialty of one of my roommates), and vegetarian sushi from the restaurant downstairs. Really, I credit the walking. Not only did I have to walk everywhere I went, I also took an almost daily stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge to my third favorite borough in which I used to reside. I had a CD Walkmen and I listened to "I'm a Slave 4 U" more than any human ever should. But I was happy and healthy and loving life, which is also good for the physique and the soul.

My actually thinnest was about 9 months after 9/11. I really had no appetite after the attacks and was down to about 125 or so. I don't have a picture of me then readily available, but it was Post-Traumatic Stress thin, which is decidedly not hot. Anyway, when I moved back to PA after graduation in May 2002, and bought my trusty little Hyundai, Emma, I packed on the LBs. I would sit in my cat-piss smelling, Section 8 apartment (over a karate studio, no less), and eat whole pizzas watching Kelly Clarkson kick ass on American Idol. Depressed much?

When I moved back to NYC in 2004, I started dropping weight again. Here is a very serious shot of Vanessa and me in Old San Juan, a bit drunk and having watched far too much Top Model (maybe 134?):

Ay, is there anything like settling into true love to help you gain some of that weight back? I wish I could upload the shot of me on Deal or No Deal in February 2008. We had friends Lauren and Eric over a few months after the LA trip, and when they saw my bloated frame on the screen they were a bit taken aback (and yes, the camera does indeed add 10 pounds. Gah!). "Looks like you've lost weight since then," was the consensus. Indeed. Here is a shot from LA, likely around 140 - 142 pounds:

Sister could bench-press Howie! (Cute bag, though.)

But a beach wedding (and a Maxim model coming to your nuptials) will kick even the most carb-loving lady into action, so here is a shot from DR:

(Um, and as an aside, I loved our wedding. This picture perfectly wrapped up the whole affair: sweat-soaked, dancin', singin', glorious celebratin'. I really think we should frame this one, J.)

I was probably about 132 - 134 at the time of the wedding, and I felt pretty good (legs could have been a bit more toned, but I shan't complain. Did you see how fun my reception was?! Also, quite the calorie-burner.)

I went to the gym earlier today. I ran 4 miles. I think I actually had a slight heart attack. During the last mile, my chest constricted and I nearly passed out. Good on me! After the perilous jog, I did weights and tried to do a pull-up. Just one. I couldn't even begin to lift myself, (My limbs were completely unresponsive: You want us to do what? Lift? Sister, you crazy.) so I just hung there like a dead fish. You've got your work cut out for you, P90X.

Finally I headed over to the scale, which used to be in the ladies locker room but now is right next to the weights, where all the meatheads convene. Lovely! I took off my sneakers and hopped on: 137 pounds today. So ideally, I'd like to lose at least 7 pounds in 3 months (P90 should be here in 5 - 7 days). And of course, I've still got to fit in runs for the November 22nd Half-Marathon. Looks like HomeValley is going to be quite busy, folks! I will do a weekly update on this blog, so help me God.

I will also figure out what a "widget" is. Lord have mercy.


Anonymous said...

GREATEST line ever: "I had just turned 21 and i ran shit, like Oprah"


Homevalley said...

Those were the days, P! Can't wait to see you guys soon!

Matt said...

Don't feel too bad. I've been trying for six months to put a hits counter on my blog and still haven't done it. Really enjoying your writing by the way.

Homevalley said...

Thanks, Matt! Would have been nice to have a class for aspiring bloggers in HS. I will find a book and learn for us!

Anonymous said...

I found your blog from a comment you left (at some point) on Heather Spohr's blog. I am now this far through your archives, so your 'delurking on the blogosphere' worked on me! You are an entertaining writer, I am enjoying reading.

Homevalley said...

Thanks, Kate - I appreciate the comment, and also the refresher on mah fitness... I was so adorable complaining about 137 pounds. Time to put away the nutella.

Thanks for reading!