Friday, June 22, 2012

Worst. Ever.

Hi.  Remember me?  Yeah, I know.

I suck at this whole blogging thing.  I'll own it.  I mean, my life is actually pretty run of the mill.  I do the same things everyday and every once in a while, I change it up and get crazy with a sno-cone or something.

Watch out!

Things around here have been bordering on insanity.  Since the beginning of April, I feel like I can't get a grip on life and just make it work.  Add to that school is out and the boys are constantly either bored, hungry or fighting and I'm just done.

My brain hurts.

We are on week three of summer break and this week is the first week I missed a workout.  I've been going HARD.  Running at least 30 minutes and then doing an hour of weight training AFTER my run. I'm tired.  I hurt.  But I am getting stronger.  Monday, I had the worst workout ever.  I just wasn't in it and wasn't feeling well to boot.  A doctors appointment, a serious round of antibiotics later and two days off and I was back at it yesterday.

And I am tired.  Usually, I'd work out my sore muscles in the pool, but I am supposed to limit sun exposure due to my antibiotic.  This sucks.  Because the one thing that keeps the smalls happy?  The pool.  The one thing that keeps me sane?  The sun.


For now.

Two weeks ago, I ran a 5k and PR'd my 5k time(28:17)!  I was STOKED!  I killed my previous PR and quite simply kicked some ass!  It. Was. Awesome.

(Look at that Sexy Beast!)

I suckered(read: forced) my friend to do it.  She has been working hard and getting her sexy back.  The next step was to drink the juice and do a race.  She was skeered, but she DID IT and FINISHED!  I was so proud of her!  I went back and finished with her, she was tired but she finished!  She drank the juice!  And now she's in it.  FOREVER.  She's even going to attempt Rock N Roll San Antonio in November!  HOLLA!  So proud of you Nia, You got this homes!

The next 5k is the Beach Run, which was the first 5k I ever ran.  I don't have a goal with that one, as I accomplished it with this race.  But I wouldn't mind coming in under 28.  No promises or guarantees on that though!  If you're a runner, you understand that.  I'm just there to run and burn some calories.

Trying to figure out tempo runs and all that jazz to better my time.  My ultimate goal is to kick serious PR ass when I do the Rock N Roll San Antonio again(2:30:55).  I'd LOVE to come in under 2:15.  But again, who knows.  Last year it was unbelievably hot and I really should have ran with my own water. Lesson learned.

With all that said, I smell and need to go soak my muscles.

Wait.  I put raw egg whites in my post workout smoothie this morning.  And it didn't kill me.

Over and Out.

One Sexy Beast

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Owning It and Loving It.

I've been hesitant to share this, not because I am ashamed of having this done; but because people who don't know me may be quick to judge.  Who am I kidding, people HAVE been quick to judge.  I've lied to some people, told those closest to me the truth and done a little of both to others.  I don't expect everyone to understand.  It was my decision.  A decision that was and has been supported by those closest to me.

I am not vain.  I had very little self-confidence.  I have never been proud of my body, happy with how I look and felt like I was worth it.  Which makes this whole thing that much harder.  I continue to work on myself.  I am learning to love me, my body and have self-confidence, everyday.  It is sad that it has taken me this long(29 years!) to figure it out, but I have worked my tail off the past 19 months and I'm not about to shrug it off as a "I could do/be better".  I am in the best shape of my life.  I am smaller than I was in High School(!).  And I haven't given up.  I have found ME again.  Which was the goal from the beginning.

Welcome Back, Amanda.  Welcome Back!

It's not even a welcome back, really.  It's a HI!  You've finally arrived!  I am not the same person I was, even a year ago.  I have learned a lot about myself.  I have learned to love the things I didn't (my butt, for one) and simply say "there is always room for impovement" on others(my legs and arms).  There is a love/hate relationship with my body, but I learn something new about it everyday and I am more than happy with ME now.

A year ago, I swallowed my fear(a shot of tequila-shhh! don't tell my doc!) and had complete abdominoplasty with major muscle repair(thanks boys!).  Best decision of my life.  Seriously.  I had gone back and forth for three years with wether or not I was going to do it.  But the one thing I was adamant about was losing the weight I gained with the shorts and toning as much as I could BEFORE doing it.  And I did.  SO.  Ten months after sucking it up and getting my life back, I went under the knife and got a new stomach.  Okay, not really.  But I did fix the one thing that was keeping me from realizing how far I had come.

Before 1:

Before 2:

And now, it gets a little ugly.  And by ugly, I mean graphic.  And gross. And disgusting. And ugly. 

24 hours:

(I told you. I want to vomit myself.)

48 hours:

(my belleh buttown looks gnarly, right?!)

Day 3:

(that protruding at the top is my stomach.  Sexy right?  And the bruising?  Oh yeah, hawt!)

Day 5:

(The lack of eating from being intubated has made my cheeks sink in. Sexah!)

Day 7:

 Two Weeks Post Op:

(holy swollen batman! This was awful!)

Three Weeks Post Op:

(Oh yeah, that belly button.  Gag.)

Four Weeks:

(I don't have anything, but HOLY PALE BATMAN!)

Five Weeks:

(I should have probably cleaned the mirror before taking this...)

Seven Weeks Post Op: 



Weeks Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen:

(Tan, started...)

(First bikini, in YEARS!)

(Brown skinned momma)

Four Months:

(those jeans, yeah.  I had to get rid of them because they were too big)

Five Months:

Six Months:


Eight Months:

Eleven Months:

(count them.  one. two. three. four. five. six.  Six. Bwa ha ha.)

Twelve Months(AKA: The fastest year EVER):

(I'd like to thank my husband, for cutting his hair and not clearing off the counter before hand.  Awesome.)

Recovery wasn't easy, but it wasn't hard.  I'd like to thank Roni, for posting about her own tuck and what to expect, because it was nice to have something and someone to read about that went through it. 

I lost 5lbs with the surgery and have lost another 10lbs since.  I recommit everyday to keep this body and I work hard.  The hardest thing about recovery was getting used to my new body.  The first trip to the pool was hard.  I was scared, self conscious and worried about judgement.  But it wasn't them I needed to be worried about, it was ME.

I had a dark few months after surgery.  Dealing with me, my own head, emotions and learning a lot.  The one thing I kept going back to was WHY I FELT SO BAD ABOUT LOVING MY OWN BODY?!  A body I worked SO DAMN HARD FOR.  I did this.  Yes, I had surgery.  But the surgery didn't "fix" me, the surgery fixed the muscle damage and took something away I worked hard to remove, but wasn't going anywhere.  I DID THIS.  I owned it.  And once I did, It was like there was a whole new world opened up to me.  I LOVED ME.  I LOVE ME.  This is MY body, I worked for it and I earned it!  No one will ever take that away from me.

I've heard people say things(I cheated etc), but be rest assured, I in no way, cheated.  Like I said, people who know me, know why I did this.  And I do it again in a heartbeat!


Thursday, March 1, 2012

The Story lately.

I don't really have a lot to say.


Things around here are RIDICULOUSLY busy and I barely have time to sit and eat, let alone breathe, shower, function.

So here goes!

My husband is now a Blue Rope.

Oh yeah, and he's hot.  And that rope makes him look like a huge meanie head.  (I had a much better word to use, but I'd hate to offend someone).

We had to take an emergency trip "home". The bad news is it was because Pops had a heart attack and a week later was re-admitted into the hospital.  Coming out with significant heart damage.  The good news, he looks better than I thought he would and that makes my heart smile.

(talking cars with my husband makes this man so happy!)

The boys are now officially into sports.

G is doing Taekwondo and is a complete space cadet and has zero coordination, but that is precisely the reason he is in Taekwondo in the first place.


And the boy loves spending time in the country where he can roam free.

N did Taekwondo, but when given the choice, he chose soccer.  So soccer it is. (and I'm not the least bit excited that he chose MY sport...nope, not me).

And you know there is a video...


He's also all about spending time in the country...

And me?  I'm just crazy.  And tired.

I completed a half. Check.  And My oldest draws a strikingly close copy of what I look like when I run.
(when(if) I complete a full, it will go right above the 13.1 in the exact same format)


                   Today you are You, this is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.

And spring has sprung in Oklahoma.

It's temps in the 80's for a few days, resulting in needing to use the AC(humidity) and then dropping to the low 60's, resulting in going back to the heater. I turned the heater on for the last time. It won't happen again.  These people better learn to bundle up.  I mean, we have snuggies for goodness sake!

Commander of Chaos,


Friday, February 3, 2012

Life Accordingly

I was told something today.  Something I expected.  When the government is your boss, things can change in the blink of an eye.

Short order deployment = Finding out you're leaving your family in as less than 24 hours.
Last minute changes = expecting to leave/arrive somewhere and being told it's not going to happen.
Extensions = Being told you have been extended and do not have a choice.

My husband was given the news today.  I told him what to expect.  I should change my profession to a fortune teller, because anytime we've had a (huge) change in life, I've called it months out. Example: The first time my husband had orders to deploy, a week after we were notified I told him I had a weird feeling about them pulling it and giving it to someone else. It happened.  Example: He had orders (again) to deploy before taking this special duty. About 2 weeks after we were notified he was accepted into MTIS, I told him something wasn't right. He was told the next day he would not be deploying (again) and someone would be taking over his spot. As well as others, including this.

About three months ago, we were talking about putting our house on the market, what we would do if and when the house sold, where we wanted to go etc.  I told him that I felt like we were going to be here longer than we expected or even wanted to be.

Low and Behold. A random, Friday afternoon (mandatory) Commander's Call revealed what everyone did not want to hear.  Granted, some were extended longer than others and we got lucky.

Here's the kicker.  It puts us moving right smack in the middle of the school year.  The big ones 2nd grade year and the short ones Kinder year.  I can't do that to them. They thrive on consistency and routine.  As much as I want to move on and put this job behind us, we cannot.  We decided together it would be much better for everyone if we waited until the school year was over.  It is what is best for the boys.

I've shocked myself with how well I am handling all this.  It is not easy.  I thought I'd cry.  Or at least go bat sh!t crazy and throw something.  I just stood up and said "let this digest."  I'm okay.  We will be okay.  We are settled here.  We are in a good area.  Our neighbors are awesome.  The school the boys attend is great.  I'm okay.

Getting mad about it will not change it.  This was a decision that was made for us and to be honest, I'm glad it was.  There are worse things in life.  This is not one of them.

(now, talk to me in 3 months when I have a severe hatred for this job...again)

I am okay.  The government is shady like that.  It happens.  It happened today to a lot of my friends(at least I won't be here alone).  And I kinda like San Antonio.  You know, despite the non-winters we have and the inferno summers we do have.  Flies in February and having to mow my grass year round, I like San Antonio.

So now commences our extenstion and doing this for another year:

(D@mn, he looks good!)

Deep in the trenches of BMT.


Sunday, January 22, 2012

Sometimes, you just can't help it.

Things I did successfully this week: Ran.

Things I did not do successfully this week: Love my body.


I hate that I have to even deal with this never ending battle of the love/hate relationship with my body.  I look at myself and I see something amazing.  Something I worked very hard for.  Something I recommit to keeping everyday.

While I see something amazing, I feel like a 927lb sad, unhappy miserable person.  I know I am not.  I mean, it's obvious I am not.  But I feel like I am, so therefore, I must be.  I hate having days/weeks like this.  And this past week was one of "those" kind of weeks.

Sure, I ran a total of 20mi and I did really well focusing on what I used to fuel those runs.  But I still felt fat.  In hind sight, it was time.  I honestly can't remember the last time I felt like this, I just know that I felt this way last week.

I didn't weigh myself(why add to the pain), I didn't look in the mirror often(what's the point) and other than the two times I wore actual clothes, I stayed in running gear because it is what I was most comfortable in.

I'm not even sure why I'm sharing this.  I guess because there is a point to prove that no matter where we are in our journey, we all still struggle with some sort of battle.  And this week, I struggled with loving myself even though I wanted to hate myself.

The good thing is that I didn't let those feelings defeat me and give in.  I still ran.  I still did weights.  I still ate well.  And this week I will face it head on and feel good.

In all my randomness.


Sunday, January 15, 2012

One. Four. Five. Six. Twenty Six.

All important numbers.  Although, the first three don't define who I am; they sure as sh!t are proof of the hard work I've put forth the past 18 months.

I haven't really talked about my weight.  Specifics to be exact.  Numbers.  Because I know that the numbers don't define me, but I don't care who you are or where you are in your journey, You want to know where you are on the scale. It's true.

For the past 6 weeks, I have held steady at one hundred forty five pounds.  What. The. Crap.  I haven't talked about it because I swore it was a fluke.  But who am I kidding?  I work my tail o.f.f. 5-6 days a week and I've gotten a handle on my food intake again(ugh, carbs!).  And since I have stayed here, I am claiming it!

(In my best Alison Sweeney voice)My current weight is.... 145 pounds!


I am happy with this. I was ecstatic at 150.  But that number is not me.  It does not define me, but damn it sure feels good!


Since before Thanksgiving, I have needed to get new jeans.  Every single pair of jeans I owned was ridiculously big.  Even my jeggings.  Which I loved so so so much.  But when the jeggings are too big, it is time to pony up the dough and get new jeans.

Have I ever mentioned I have a booty?  Yeah.  Shopping for jeans is sometimes I painful experience.  If they fit my backside, the waist is too big.  If they fit my waist, they are so tight on my tail I can't even think.  They're too short.  They're too long.  Ugh, it's exhausting.

I cried as I walked into Plato's Closet to "sell" my less than a year old BKE jeans, my most favoritest pair of jeggings and a few shirts that had long been retired.  I cried because I loved those jeans, but also because I had zero jeans in my closet.

That is not a joke.  Or an exaggeration.  I had NO PANTS hanging in my closet.  Even all my workout pants are too big.  But there I was, walking into Plato's Closet in my most comfy Nike track pants with an elastic waist(<~ This is important because my friend stepped on the bottom and I flashed the store half of my butt. True Story.) to "sell" my jeans.

And while I didn't get near close to what I paid for the BKE jeans, it was a small dent in what I needed to get new jeans.  Plus, I HAD to go buy new jeans at this point.  Five stores, 8,395 pairs of jeans later I found jeans that I love, fit correctly, hug me where they should and most importantly, FIT!  The best best best part was the number on the tag.  Not the price(holy sh!t!), the size.  I swear, I would have made out with the poor guy having to hang up all the jeans I tried on when I walked out of that changing room with a size SIX.  HOLLA! (<~This girl has never been in a size six.  EVER.)

And you know I took pictures to remember the momentous occassion:

My hand is covering my mouth because I was in shock.  I'm pretty sure I had a goofy smile on my face as well.  And yes, I had the little people with me and they were SO good(<~ For which they got candies).

Dear Express,

Your prices make me want to vomit, but your jeans love my butt so I love your jeans.


Happy chick in a size SIX!

Those jeans were buy one get one half off.  Totally worth it.  And I got Express Cash.  I am in love.


This made me curious of my waist.  I mean, the inches.  Because I know the BKE's I sold were a 31.  And huge.  Which I bought after I had lost 30lbs.  I started this thing in a 15/16, so I know my waist was at a 34? 36? I'm not sure because I didn't measure myself(MEASURE YOURSELF!).  But I wanted to see where I was now.  Oh yes.  Twenty.Six.Inch.Waist.  My hips are a 28/29(baby got back).  I don't care, I am ecstatic!  

I have waited my entire life to feel good in my own skin.  To love my body.  To feel confident.  To be confident.

Mission. Accomplished.