This One Is About A Wicked Nice Farmer I Know

I’ve posted about the hilariously shitty things that people have said to me, about my weight loss, but this time, I want to share a story about a really nice comment.

My town has a Farmer’s Market, and I’ve gone every Thursday, in the summer, for at least six years.  I go to the same vendor for fruits and vegetables, every single time.

Over the years, I’ve gotten to know the guy who runs this particular stand.  We have small chit chat, and he’s always very pleasant.  He’s really a very, very nice guy (also cute, but that has nothing to do with it. haha!).  Once upon a time, he told me his name, but I never remember names…because I suck.  I call him Farmer Brown, when I talk about him.  Judge me.

Yesterday, while paying for my pretty peaches and zucchini, Farmer Brown said, ‘Umm… I don’t know if this is ok to say; I mean, I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but you’ve lost a lot of weight!  Is that ok to say?  I hope it is!  You look great!’

I replied, ‘OF COURSE!’  I thanked him, and told him a few stories about the crazy shit people have said, and how this weird human race thinks it’s ok to say kind of, well,  slightly rude comments about people who lose weight (but not when they gain it, of course!).  He was shocked at the things I’ve heard, and we just laughed about it.

I will say, that sometimes it’s awkward when people say something, but deep down I actually really enjoy it.  I don’t enjoy it because I’m narcissistic.  I enjoy it because sometimes I don’t see the changes.  When other people haven’t seen me in a while, their reactions are always nice because that’s how I know I’ve changed.  My hard work, and dedication to this process, has all been worth it, when I get those reactions.

Anyways, I really wish that he knew that he absolutely made my day.

 

I’m All About The Numbers

Ok, so, some people reading this blog have known me for a very long time, and could probably attest to the fact that I am NOT good at math.  I never picked up anything in math class very easily, and when I couldn’t understand something, I usually just let my brain do its thing… and wander some where else.  Like, ‘oh, you can’t do this? Ok. Let’s go on a swirly whirly ride into a daydream’.  This is why I failed at all my math classes.

So, now knowing this about me, I bet you’d be surprised to know that I have become focused- err… obsessed with numbers.  ‘What numbers could she possibly be talking about?’ you may ask.  That would be a very good question!  Nutrition Facts.

I’m not here to bore you with how I carefully read each label, which I do.  I’m also not here to tell you about how I surprise myself with learning how bad the foods are that I previously thought were healthy, which I also do.  No, I’m here to tell you how I sit, sometimes for hours, adding nutrition labels, measuring portions, and analyzing meals that I make at home.

This all started with Turkey Chili.  I made a huge batch.  Enough to feed me probably 10 meals.  While I cooked, I kept a notebook to the side, and jotted down the N.F.’s (this is how we will refer to Nutrition Facts, from here on out) for each and every ingredient.  If I used the whole can of tomatoes, I figured out the facts for the whole can, and wrote that down.  Calories, Fat, Carbohydrates, Sugar, Protein.  Once I had the entire list of ingredients and their N.T.’s, I added them all up.  This gave me the total numbers for my massive batch of Turkey Chili.  When the chili was done cooking, I carefully measured it out by serving size, and then divided those totals by the number of servings that it made.

Since then, I have done this for every single meal I make.  Turkey Chili, Turkey Meatballs,  Bean Salad, Chocolate Protein Balls, Cloud Bread, Cauliflower Pizza, Cauliflower ‘Fried Rice’, Overnight Oats, etc. etc.

Here’s where the obsession begins.  When I figure out the N.F.’s, I immediately start thinking about how I can cut down the calories/fat/carbohydrates… or whatever, by using different ingredients.  That’s when research happens.  My  best example is Overnight Oats.

I thought Overnight Oats would be a good breakfast for me to have, and would be a nice change of pace from a protein shake or eggs.  I used a recipe, adjusted certain things (like not using sugar, and instead, using Truvia), and made the stuff.  When I was finished, I added up the N.P.’s, and realized that it was an INSANE amount of carbohydrates and calories for a 4oz. portion.  Like I didn’t want to waste my time eating this!  Thus began two hours of researching how I could adjust the recipe.  I was adding, scribbling, and crossing things out in my notebook, and ultimately purchasing new food products off of Amazon.

Two days later (what up, Amazon Prime!), I was making my Overnight Oats again.  This time, however, I had managed to cut the calories by half, and the carbohydrates by a third.  Proud of myself doesn’t do this justice.  I was like a kid in a tasty oatmeal shop!

Since then, after I have perfected my recipes, I write down ingredients, brand names of products, and then finally- N.F.’s for each serving on a small index card.  I store these in a little box, tucked away, and I can pull them out anytime, and make the meal, without worrying about doing my math.  Perfection.

So, I’d like to take a moment to give a big shout out to all my math teachers- from Kindergarten to Senior Year.  You did it.  I like my math…  just don’t ask me to start doing any algebra.

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This was my latest creation.  My take on Texas Caviar.  This is one of the neatest written logs I have EVER done.  And yes, that’s one of three, of my handy dandy notebooks.

 

 

 

I’m Not Actually Athletic

I think I’ve made that very clear.  I mean, I suck on my volleyball team, I pretend to be a runner, I think sports injuries include pulling my groin while walking, and of course, I can’t work out in the weight room by myself in fear of killing myself or someone else.

So basically, I’m not actually athletic, I’m just thinner.  Sometimes, people will get that confused.  Like my trainer for example.  Yes, back to talking about HIM.  During warm up on the treadmill, he thinks it’s necessary to put me on the highest incline possible, at a decent rate of speed.  It’s kind of like speed climbing Mount Everest (I think, I could be wrong though).  Someone might look at me and think, of COURSE she can do that!  No problem!  WRONG.  I was heave-hoeing my way along.  Heavy breathing, sweat dripping, legs burning, and of course I was telling him to ‘get the fuck away from my treadmill before I kill you’ while swatting his hands away.  I’m super pleasant. 🙂 BTW warm up is only five minutes.

Yesterday, while doing my upper body work out with my Trainer, he started to say these absolutely insane things.  I’m not quite sure what he was thinking. He would say things like, ‘I train you like this so that someday you can do it by yourself’, and ‘When you don’t train with me, you should come and do these routines on your own’.  WHAT?!? How does he not know me, by now?  I won’t try to lie to you… my reaction went something like this: I straight up looked at him and said, ‘I will always need a trainer.  I will never be alone.  I can’t be left alone.  You’re insane.’ and I followed it up with, ‘You do know this will become a blog, right?’ This was all happening while I was lifting an Olympic Training Bar (or something like that… honestly, he told me what it was called, and I didn’t listen) into my fucking crotch. He only responded to me by laughing.  I’m pretty sure he was laughing at a combination of my Dumb Workout Face, my complete honesty, and the fact that he knows I write about him.

So yeah, I’m definitely not athletic.  At least I try, though.  I honestly don’t give a fuck if I embarrass myself, or look like a complete asshole.  I’m doing it.  I have come a long way from when I first joined a gym, and was completely embarrassed about being drenched in sweat when I left.  I mean, isn’t that the point?

My how times have changed.

This is what 'Lower Body Murder' day looks like when I'm done.

This is what ‘Lower Body Murder’ day looks like, when I’m done.