Day 5 of Captivatiy

It is day five of my "lifestyle change." Shauna, (the trainer) can word it anyway she likes, but not calling it a diet, doesn't change the fact that when I talk about "the big change," a little part of me dies inside. At least I only have 11 weeks and 2 days to go in the contest.

There is some good news. I have lost five pounds. There is also some bad news. The previously mentioned five pounds, appears to have come off my already non-enormous jugs. Oh, and also none of my family or friends can stand to be around me, especially in close, unventilated areas.

This post might contain more information about me than you care to now. Stop now, or consider yourself warned.

Yesterday I worked the 9Am to 9PM shift, which left me enough time in the morning to hit my usual work-out. It was also the first day I could lift my arms, without biting down on a piece of wood first. For as long as I have been going to Shauna's, (two years-ish,) I have been petrified of the Friday work-out. It's all core stuff, planks and push-ups, pikes and bananas, sweat and swears. Last Friday's torture camp left me so miserable, I couldn't move without grunting. While I believe grunting in some cultures is considered sexy, Dave just kept rolling his eyes all weekend, which made me want to gouge them out. If only it were my birthday, I would use my wish, to heap pain and pounds on him.

I can take the pain. I even like to exercise. It really just boils down to the food, that's got me bummed out. I spent the first couple of days portioning out snacks into sandwich baggies, so I would have something easy to reach for when I got hungry. When I headed to work yesterday, I took several, in case I didn't actually get a lunch break. Once at work I set out to unpack the carefully counted, individual portions of my favorite food groups; dairy and dehydrated red meat. I made sure to hide my jerky, since the majority of my co-workers, really have no well-defined boundaries, and then set out my least favorite food groups, oatmeal, flax, blueberries, and an apple. Blech! Most of these individual portions, especially the fruit and veggies, have a ridiculous amount of fiber in them. That's not even saying anything about all the fiber enhanced crap you can buy.

Fortunately, I was saved from my breakfast, by a good stabbing. Nothing makes my mood lighter than a penetrating trauma, and with so many people packed into the trauma bay, there will be significantly less finger pointing when my gut rot seeps out. That probably sounds cold, but rest assured, very few people are stabbed while helping old ladies cross the street, or volunteering for Special Olympics. It really just boils down to Natural Selection, genetic mutants taking care of each other. This particular stabbing came about after an argument over, who ate who's steaks, so...................

You get the idea.

My stomach bothered me all day. It was rolling and shifting, like I was great with child. At one point, I had quite the crowd, clamoring around me, waiting for their turn to feel my fiber baby kicking. Then, sometime during the early afternoon, I lost the dryer sheet that I had tucked down my pants as a filter, and my coconut lotion lost it's scent. That's when my friends really turned on me.

I didn't get lunch until 4, so the pickings in the cafeteria were slim. The final blow came, as I traipsed back upstairs with my veggie soup, and a hard boiled egg. As I finished my soup, The Smokers were headed outside for a break. I snatched up my egg, and gave a, "Wait up, Ladies!" That's when they turned around and shifted from one leg to the other, kicking at the ground and looking pointedly at my egg. Seriously, I am not even a smoker, nor do I complain about the smell of smoke. I go on the smoke breaks because I like the company, and I like spending 10 minutes of every hour outside. It would be nice if I got the same courtesy. They eventually let me come, but I had to stand away from the group while I ate my egg, and then twist my torso and waft my arms around, so as to dissipate any flatulence haze.

The ride home was lonely and cold. I rode with my passenger windows down, with a plan to get rid of my belly ache, yet not have any lingering stench, in hopes that Daveskins might nuzzle me when I got home. It was successful, but when I started jotting down my intake for the day, I was dismayed that while, full; my calories only totaled 1,030, for the whole damn day. Shauna is pretty insistent that we eat a certain amount of calories according to our heftiness, and that meant I was 970 calories short. I almost got teary, thinking I was going to have to cram more perfectly portioned healthy shit down my gullet, when I came to the decision that my body would just have to burn into the stores of yester years' delicious indulgence for the night.

This morning at work out they were calling me Pig Pen.

Only 11 weeks and 2 days to go.