I'd rather list 5 things I love about LA Boxing

Today you get a "Five Things" post and an LA Boxing post, all wrapped up in one.  (Five Things is a meme created by Trayce, in which I simply tell you 5 things about me.)

Ohhh, LA Boxing, how I love you, let me count the ways...

1.  You provide an hour of "me" time, at least three times a week.  Yes, I count sweating buckets as "me" time these days - a girl takes what she can get.

2.  I have gotten the first "Hey!  You are looking thinner!" compliments (from anyone in my family other than my awesome Mother-In-Law) since possibly before I had my last kid.

3.  I can lift my 8-year-old over the railing and into her loft bed while she is sleeping with out the fear of giving her a concussion on one of the posts.

4.  Apparently I have arm muscles, and the tiniest hint of ab muscles - who knew!

5.  You have showed me that I can keep going.  I can hold that plank, I can keep hitting that bag, and I can do one more rep.  That is worth more than I can say.

Happy Friday, ya'll!  Now, either join us and blog your own "Five Things" or go hit the gym!  I'll let you choose. 

I'd rather get the job done.

I have a new confession.

I haven't been to the gym in a while.  I've missed yoga.  I've been unable to go to boxing.  I was even too sick to make it to my personal training session last week.

There have been sick days, yes, but also busy days, stressful days, and previous-commitment days.  Every kind of day.  Every kind of excuse.

I wonder if I still could of gotten some kind of workout in?  I probably could not have made it into the gym, but I could have a least done some kind of workout at home.  I didn't have to go on a gym-free binge, that's for sure.  (Thank goodness, at least, for the no-eatting-out rule.  Because, if it weren't for that, I probably would have gained some ridiculous number.)

And where am I now?

Still the same weight I was two weeks ago.  Probably not as strong, having less endurance.  And most of all - I'm afraid.  Afraid to go back.

Tomorrow I see my personal trainer, and I think I might literally go in cowering.  I know he won't give me too much sympathy.  And why should he?  I've fallen down on the job.

Working out is my job.  Eating well is my job.  Being a heathy role model for my kids is my job.  It is my responsibility, my duty, to do these things.  No one else's.  I can't blame anyone else when the job doesn't get done.  And although I am the one that pays the majority of the consequences, it affects others as well.  I'm more cranky to my husband, have less energy for my kids.

Tomorrow, I go back to work.  I clock in, and pay the price for skimping out on my job.  It will probably suck. And there will definitely be a lot of sweat - maybe some mild cursing.

 But I'll be there, getting the job done.

I'd rather list 5 things, 6/11/10

I have a bloggy buddy, Miss Trayce, over at Yours... Truly Trayce.  She has been running a little meme called "Five Things" every friday for a while now.  Recently, my other buddy, Veronica (of All Things Veronica) has jumped in on the list making.

Not to be a follower - although, I'd follow those ladies just about anywhere - but I figured I'd join in this week.

With out further ado, here are five things you may not know about me:


1.  I can't stand cilantro.  Seriously, it makes me gag.  It's nasty, nasty stuff that I avoid at all costs.  I have tried to get past this issue, and it's impossible.  It's not mental, my taste buds truly can't do it.

2.  I have really big big-toe.  Well, that's what I thought, until last year, when my podiatrist told me that it wasn't the big toe that was freakish, it was that the second toe was miniature.  Either way, me = weird toes.

3.  I love roller coasters.

4.  I love logic puzzles.

5.  Potty humor makes me laugh.  A lot.  Yes, I am juvenile like that.

So that's it.  Five things you wish you never learned.  Until next week!

I'd rather celebrate 10 years

Ten years ago, I never imagined this:

I was blessed to see a lot of this:

I knew I would eventually see this:

And he told me he'd support me, like this:

We dreamed about this:

He made me smile by doing this:

And the fun rubbed off on the girls, like this:

And that's why I am so happy to have this:

Happy 10 years, Boo.  

I'd do it all again, in a heart beat.

I love this man.

I love this man.

I. Love. This. Man.

I'd rather get better and box

I'm sick.  This stupid summer cold came on from out of no where at the end of the week and now here I am, Monday afternoon, still feeling like I was run over by a truck.

Let me tell you people, this isn't pretty.  At all.  I have yet to master the art of being "sick-cute" as opposed to "sick-gross."  I'm a fabulous mix of the dwarfs: Gumpy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey, and the yet to be found dwarf - Icky.

So I think I have the right to complain.  The right to moan about my achy muscles, to blow my nose loudly, to sleep half the day.  I have a lot to gripe about.

But do you know what one of the most annoying parts of this cold is?  I missed boxing.

What?  Did I write that correctly?  Have the cold meds sent me into a NyQuil-induced drugged-up haze?  Nope.

I miss boxing and I'm bummed.

I normally go in once during the weekend to LA Boxing to sweat out the stress of the week.  Hit the heavy bag hard and walk away feeling like a weekend warrior.  I get on a high horse - gloating in the face of my former "can't be bothered to get off the couch" weekend-self.  I start Monday feeling strong, not bloated.  Quicker, not exhausted.  Ready.

Not this week.  Monday is currently laughing at me, all balled up in the corner, and kicking my butt.  (Well, to be honest, last week wasn't a gleaming example either.  Apparently Memorial day weekend - and alcohol - make for a really, really bad personal training session on Tuesday.  It was laughable.  Literally.  We laughed at my inability to do just about anything last week.)  But this is even more reason why I was ready to have a great weekend so that I could return to training on Tuesday in top notch form.

Instead, I spent yesterday in bed, surrounded by tissues.

I miss boxing.  I want to get well.  I need to get well.  So I can go back, put on the gloves, and get back into the groove.  Kick some butt.  Tell the heavy bag who's boss.

I'm going to drag my butt in there tomorrow if I have to.  It may not be pretty, but I know I'll feel so much better for doing it.

Now, please pass the chicken noodle soup.

I'd rather confess, I'm an eat-out-aholic

I have a confession.

I eat out.

A lot.

Not just a lot - but frequently.  I am too embarrassed to admit how many meals (and how much money) I spend eating out.  I think the trend started a long time ago - way back in college, because who wanted to eat the crap they passed as food - and it just never let up.

It has its advantages.  My kids have grown up going to restaurants, so they know how to behave well while there.  It takes the stress out of planning for and making dinner.  It tastes good - most of the time.

But the disadvantages are huge.  The finances can't keep up with me.  My kids may be growing up to think it's normal to eat crappy food all the time - and worse yet, that it is the most perfect reward for doing even the smallest task.  And, of course, the weight gain.

Every week, from Monday til Thursday, I am pretty good at eating.  I eat veggies, and fruit, no fried food, and hardly any sweetened beverages.

But, then then Friday rolls around.  Who wants to cook Friday night?

And then Saturday arrives.  It's the weekend, let's celebrate!

Then it's Sunday . . . might as well take advantage of the weekend while I can!

Before I knew it, I was too busy/stressed/tired to cook some weekend nights too.

Now, I could probably eat this:

But, I usually cave, and get this:

Sighhhhhhhhh.

My confession: I'm a eat-out-aholic.

What does an eat-out-aholic do to try to get it in check?  Well, the setting day or number of visit limits didn't really work.  And setting a budget didn't really work either.  So now we are getting drastic:

No. Eating. Meals. Out. . . for a month.

(The only exception: my daughters birthday (when we are taking her out to an amusement park) and our anniversary.)

"That's not too bad" you may say, but for me, it's unheard of.  To be honest, the thought of doing this makes my stress levels rise.  It will be hard.  Hard to plan, hard to follow through, hard to not wuss out on.

But, I have a problem, and something has to be done.  I just have to do it.

Do you have any fantastic (yummy, but easy) recipes to share?  Have you kicked the eat-out-aholic habit?  Please, I beg of you, help a sister out with you input below!