Picture Memememe in pictures!

The rules:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.

b. Using only the first page, pick an image.

c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.

1. What is your first name?

2. What is your favorite food?

3. What high school did you go to?

4. What is your favorite color?

5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?

7. Dream vacation?

8. Favorite dessert?

9. What you want to be when you grow up?

10. What do you love most in life?

11. One Word to describe you.

12. Your flickr name.

I stole this meme from Staci over at VeryPink and it was a blast! If you like it and want to do it yourself, cut and paste the information above and follow the rules.

Have fun!

Timing

I have found the ONE and ONLY time that losing a dress size is not desirable. That time is when you have purchased a dress, taken it in to have it tailored to fit you and then pick it up the day before the event only to discover that it's now "saggy" and given the style and cut of the dress can't be altered more.

Working out is going well. I haven't changed my diet at all and I'm still losing inches. The scale hasn't budged, but it's evil anyway. I now live in a consistent state of soreness and I like it. I've been having dreams about running, nightmares actually. I'm afraid it means that my body has decided it wants to run again...I don't like that prospect. Running means soreness and hurty feet.

Owie Owie Ouch!

Today was day 1 of my torture, I mean training. This is one of three workout routines my trainer is going to give me and I seriously think that they just might kill me. Today's routine started off with 5 minutes on the treadmill...SWEET! I rocked that. Then we moved to chest press...SCORE! I like that one. Then I went straight into pushups on a bosu ball...WHOA! Wait a second. I stink at pushups and you want me to turn this bubble thing upside down so it's wobbly and do them? Sure, why not. I don't need to lift my daughter for the next 4 days. Then we moved on to a little assisted pullups, bicep curls and tricep push downs. Yeah, my arms are noodles. It's amazing that I can even type this right now. The next exercise really should have taught my trainer a little something about me...I am not at all in any way shape or form graceful. I stood on a bosu ball and lifted dumbells over my head. I stood on a rubber bubble and lifted heavy (5lb) steel objects over my head. What about that sounds safe? Nothing. I fell off. Luckily we hadn't done a leg workout yet so I was able to just kind of step off of it and act like I was coordinated, but ladies and gentleman, I couldn't hold my balance to save my life.

So I hoped that would be the end of the bosu ball. He put it away and then pulled out a little step. Just a teetiney 2 inch step that looked so nice and harmless. I stood on that step and did 72 backwards lunges. I hate that step. It is evil. I am not sending it a Christmas card.

Then out came that stupid rubber bubble again, and this time I was supposed to squat with one foot on the bubble, then hop over while switching legs and squat again. Seriously? I felt ridiculous and uncoordinated and I was. I didn't fall off, but my feet never landed in the same place twice and he kept joking that it was OK for my feet to leave the ball. Yeah...right. Feet not on the ball means I might land crazy on my butt and pop that stupid rubber bubble...or bounce off of it. I'm not sure which would be more embarrassing.

So that was basically the end of my torture until he threw in some ab work, but all ab work is torture and I got to lay on the mat in a pool of my own sweat. It was hot, like sexy hot. No really, it was.

Day one down. Tomorrow I do some walking/cardio and rest this weekend and start it all over again on Monday. Wednesday I get a new workout. I'm hoping I survive until then.

Full Disclosure

Minutes of exercise = 0

Slices of pizza consumed = 3

Guilt = nada

I do plan on eating a little better than I have been during this journey to fitness, but folks, I love food. I am an eater. I like yummy, good, fattening food and I'm not willing to take that out of my life forever. I am willing to limit myself and to explore new healthier options but lets face it, I will always crave full fat pizza, a good burger, sweets, and fresh bread and I will always eat it. I will not stress myself out over food, life is too short to not eat cheese.

Frog E. Fit

So, I started this as the "life" blog and I have the "mommy blog" so now I MUST HAVE the fitness blog right? Right. Wrong. The two blogs I have are ignored enough so for the undetermined future Frog E. Luv will become Frog E. Fit wherein I will share with you my adventures in fitness. If you are afraid that you will be bored (all 3 of you that read), I promise you won't be because fitness and I have a long and tumultuous relationship wherein I have gained nothing, but I keep coming back like a fatty (myself) to icecream.



First, some disclosures. I call myself "fatty", "old fat ass", and anything else derrogatory in fun. Saying "slightly overweight and less than fit lady" just loses a little something. Please do NOT follow my fitness routine as it will involve a lot of excuses and even more justifications as to why I had to get off the elliptical 5 minutes early. If only thinking of ways out of working out burned more calories.

And now on with the show!

Today was my fitness assessment day.

The things I learned today:

I stepped on a scale and allowed the trainer to pinch my fat. This taught us that I am fat. Technically obese which horrifies and baffles me. I believe it is the percentage of body fat that actually makes the technicality and not my weight because I am not really that large a woman, I don't shop in the plus size department, I really feel that while it isn't unrealistic for me to be move to the "fair" or "fit" level, it is definitely discouraging for people who obviously need a little extra help.

I got on a bike with a heartrate monitor and pedaled until my heartrate was at a certain level for 3 minutes. This taught us that I am fat AND need help with aerobic fitness. I lasted a whopping 9 minutes and my butt hurt at the end, so add butt calluses to the list of things I need to be fit.

I sat on the floor and stretched forward and touched a number for 4 seconds. This taught us that I am inflexible and have tight hamstrings. Apparently the only muscle on my body that is tight and firm is the one that shouldn't be. Fabulous.

I stood on a square and pulled up on a bar doing a bicep curl. This taught me that I have strong arms. I am glad that I did this exercise because after carrying around a 17 lb baby in a 20 lb carrier I was afraid that I had really weak arms.

I got a printout that confirmed all of the above so that I can my fat, inflexibility, non aerobic self in black and white. You know, it's really much less fun when you have time to read the results over and over again and even with my extremely honed skills of justification, I can't change what is written.

I feel good about this. I feel good about making positive changes for my health. I feel good about blogging it. However, I'm pretty sure that trainer guy isn't going to take any crap from me and this scares me. As we finished up the assessment, he looked at me and said "You have untill 11 with the coop so how about you work out a little."

I am scared.

Why Marines shouldn't cook...

We hosted a cookout at our house this afternoon and 2 of the Marines joining us made mashed potatoes. But they didn't really make them the traditional way, more of a new-fangled Marine way where you mash the potatoes BEFORE you cook them. Yeah. The mashed the potatoes before they cooked them. Needless to say they were very interesting looking and the hear the process was very amusing, especially to me, the woman who loves to cook. The end result wasn't bad, but it was just further proof as to why Marines should not be left alone in the kitchen.

Locked out

You know how sometimes you have a door that will open from the inside and stay locked? Then you have to take out the garbage and let the dog pee at the same time so you put the dog on the leash and step outside only to discover that some critter has gotten into the garbage can and now the dog wants to track it and you shut the door? Oh, and you know how all of this happens at 8 a.m. and you are in your pajamas and barefoot and it;s 40 degrees outside? And then how you get the can to the street, the dog pulls out of his collar so you chase him down and get it back on and now your feet are cold and wet? Then you go to get back in the house and the door is locked? So now you are locked out and the 5 1/2 month old baby is locked in playing in her crib? So then you go to the basement door hoping it's open but it isn't and then you try to open the window but it doesn't open so you try to pry it open with a shovel, you know how that sometimes happens? Oh, and then you have to walk up to a neighbor barefoot and in pajamas and ask to use a phone so you can call your husband who is in an important training session so that he can come let you in the house and then you have to sit on the front stoop for 20 minutes waiting on him with a shivering dog, cold, wet bare feet in your pajamas (gaucho pants and T-shirt) listening to your baby who is now bored with her mobile cry?

You know how sometimes that happens?

Yeah, me neither.

But just in case I did know how that happens, there is now a hidden key.