food as enemy #1

So, I'm trying to be healthy this week. Well, I'm trying to be healthier as a matter of course, but this week in particular because on Saturday (seven days from today), I have a weigh in at my personal trainer's. No, I am not the next welterweight champion. I'm just a bride, trying to get in shape [with the help of an extravagant but priceless - if one can be both - assistant, i.e., the personal trainer). If I were self-motivated, I would not have to pay some one to tell me to work out more and eat less. But. I am not. So those in desperate times must take desperate measures.

All that being said, the experience has been a good one. I do feel better. I can run 40 minutes without being short of breath, and power through 20 push-ups (the real kind, not the girlie-on-your-knees-kind) without too much effort. I've changed gyms to one that's a mere block from my office and therefore unable to avoid. I've bought a bosu. Yep, my very own. And PowerBlock weights. And a jump rope (which, I confess, sadly I actually didn't really know how to use four months ago... that whole both-feet-off-the-ground-at-once thing was troubling...but the obstacle was surmountable and now I'm a jumping whiz...for 30 seconds at a time or so...) And, more importantly, I actually use all of the above several times a week. Yes, this surprises even me.

The harder thing, for me, is not the exercise, it's the eating. Try as I might to be a better eater, I find the task not just daunting, but outright impossible. As part of this Weigh In '08, the trainer provided me and my work out buddy [read: friend I roped into doing this with me] with logs to record what we eat each day. I've done this before, and I get it. When forced to write something down, You're forced to think about it. Do You really want to eat that cookie when You have to tell someone else about it? In theory, it works for me, for a time. That time [that it utterly ceases to work] is from about 6:30 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.... during which, I suddenly become incapable of ceasing the mad devouring of food... the log becomes a litany of snacks, adding up into one huge tummy ache and a feeling of defeat. My typical daily log reads something like this:

7:00 a.m. - oatmeal [I am so healthy! Yeah, me!]

8:00 - coffee [must have addiction... it's fat free]

9:50 - granola bar [still on a roll...]

11:30 - handful of almonds [so, I can have as many of these as I want, right?]

12:30 - soup & half-sandwich [I miss pizza.]

2:45 - box of raisins and some more almonds [healthy healthy healthy]

5:00 - apple [yum. *sarcasm*]

6-7:00 - Work-out [I rock.]

7:30 - salad w/grilled chicken [still on work-out high]

8:00 - pretzels w/hummus [damn, salad did not satisfy...]

8:15 - bowl of Special K [still just a little bit hungry...]

8:25 - grapes [must. fight. hungry. feeling.]

8:35 - Halloween candy [WILL THIS HUNGER NEVER CEASE?!?!]

8:45 - cookie dough ice cream... [screw it, I worked out today]

9:30 - glass of red wine [I am never going to overcome my inner calorie demons]

10:00 - glass of Bailey's Irish cream [oh, You're having one, Honey? Okay, I will too...]

ARGH! And thus the cycle repeats itself. Every day. And I wonder why I just can't reach that picture I've drawn in my mind of what I could look like, if only I were better able to fight the Food Demons that live in my pantry. Does anyone else wage this same battle with The Evil Pantry?!

On that note, I better go for a run now... to offset the calorie intake I'm sure will ensue later today...

not like grama's

Last night, I discovered a jar of applesauce The Fiancé had in the refrigerator. I decided to sample it as a new dessert option, in my effort to be healthy (read: effort not to eat ice cream). Gleeful in my discovery of something that was both wholesome and sweet in my own kitchen, imagine my disappointment upon the discovery that Motts is absolutely nothing - I mean nothing - like what Grama used to make.

This led to my declaration to The Fiancé that we need to add items to our registry that will enable me to make homemade applesauce. I don't know what those items might be, but I seem to recall some sort of grinder-contraption being needed to mash the apples (upon my explanation of this, The Fiancé looked at me like I was coo-coo; I could almost see his mind reeling at the vision of me, in a kitchen, with fancy grinding tools, trying to make something edible). I ignored his incredulous stares and continued with my illustration of why Motts is deficient and why I need to learn to make yummy, not watery, delicious homemade applesauce.

To which he responded (after decrying the irony of a woman who at lunch was learning about how to improve and reform the civil justice system in Chicago now wanting to learn how to mash fruit), "You know there are store-bought options out there other than Motts, that are made to taste more like homemade, right?"

Me: "What...?!"

Why didn't he just say so? Screw the grinder. What, did he think I wanted to be domesticated or something? As if.

french kiss

Yum... Hostess with the Mostess is a site after my own heart. Check out this delicious little cocktail recipe... looks so easy I think even an attorney [read: me] could make it:

Ingredients:
1 part vodka
1 part Chambord
1 part dark cream de cacao
1 1/2 parts half and half

Directions:
Shake ingredients with ice and strain. and proceed to devour.