Extreme

As I saw all of the Thanksgiving feast food porn being uploaded last weekend, something clicked in my head about food. We’re extreme. Yup, us. Not them. All those heavy sugar and processed carb eaters, they’re normal. Yams with brown sugar and marshmallow? Normal. Cranberry and jello with whipped cream? Normal.

Normal as in, what’s the big deal to eat like this every day?  Sure, maybe not in mallow and yams fashion, but everything else. Bread; cereal (yes, even the “high protein” Kashi shit); pastries; syruppy yumminess; orange juice; apple juice; soda/coke/pop (whatever your region calls it); pasta (lots of it); rice and beans; meat in sugar sauce (most sauces are sugar, that’s what makes them nummy. Duh); Chips (I still say that if Doritos would just sell the cool ranch salt in a jar I’d never have to eat another chip again in my life); sugary coffee drinks (dudes, if it has 4+ pumps of syrup and whipped cream, stop calling it coffee. Duh);  anything low fat (think chemical shit storm. Please, may I have a big tall glass of chemical shit storm? Thanks so much); sugar…in all forms. Sugar food, sugar drink, sugar candy, sugar veggies, sugar on fruit, sugar sugar sugar. By the way, when is the last time these people actually tasted food?

And we’re extreme. Protein, leaner these days since the Bigg man is losing some weight which is helping him sleep better and keeps him alive since his snoring was forcing me to restrain from reaching for the ASP every time he woke me up. Protein in the morning (just finished my egg and egg white scramble with cheese); protein for snack; protein for lunch (with salad) and protein for dinner. Extreme. One of my favorite comments in the past when describing how we eat (when asked, and even then I hesitate in answering) was, “I’d get tired of eating all that meat.” Huh? Anyways. (By the way, two weeks later of him eating fewer carbs and just paying attention in general to what he’s eating has resulted in over 20 pounds of weight loss and visible abs. Men suck;)

Our carbs come here and there as needed. Nothing silly. Last week while on our roadtrip to Minnesoooota I ate two Hawaiian bread buns cheese sammiches after two pieces of Peanut Butter toast before we left. All that bread left me feeling like crap for two days. Yuck.  As tasty as it is in the moment, I do not appreciate feeling like that. By the time we finally ate dinner that night, I scarfed down an entire plate of fajita meat as if I had just trekked through 80 miles of a sugar desert trying to get to Protein mountain. Ya I know, drama much?

And fat. We heart fat. Olive oil is always within reach while cooking. Butter. We heart butter too. All real food really. Food that’s tasty, but see, we can taste it cuz we’re not handicapped by a sugar palate. When I’m feeling crazy enough for something other than coffee, I pick up a Cinnamon Dolce Latte and here’s where I confuse the poor Barista’s…half a pump of the cinnamon syrup, no whipped cream, extra shot of espresso.” Which starts this dance, ‘so you want half the amount, two pumps of syrup?’ ‘No. I want half a pump of syrup. See? Half of one pump.’  “Uhhhhhh, just half a pump?” ‘Yes, just half.’ “Ok, and you’d like whipped cream?” ‘No. No whipped cream.’ 

Every. Time. Which is why I only have it in me to brave it a couple times each winter. By the time we’re done with this dance I’m too tired to remind them about the extra shot of espresso. Poor me.

And we’re extreme. It really struck me last weekend that folks view our eating as extreme. This reality baffles me but I have to admit that in all likelihood, our holding on to this diet baffles those around US. After all, the US food pyramid has said all these years that we should eat lots of carbs and then the “food” makers make us all these delicious boxed treats. They wouldn’t lie would they? My weight watchers nutritional “expert” said I can eat whatever I want as long as I keep it in my “points” range. They can’t be wrong, it’s working! No dear, it’s working because you’re actually watching the amount of calories you’re eating. The fact that they continue to advise that it’s ok to shit within a range of “points” means they actually have no understanding of what the carbs and sugar do to you systemically. They are a money making business, see? They make money off fat people and as you Yo Yo with them year after year while paying them, they win. Cuz the only thing they taught you is to decrease your calories so when you stop doing that, you gain weight again. I hate WW. A lot.

Anyways.

We’re extreme. Us. And we’ll keep it that way. I’ll hold on to this diet as strongly as people who eat crap will hold on to theirs. It’s the food religion. Who’s right? Who’s wrong?

I dunno. But I’m strong. I win.

Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.

Orson Welles

Training Log

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Nut Up

Well, you could see this one coming.

Ok, ok, we all know last week was a bad one here. We’ve walked through a three alarm fire and have come out stronger on the other side. People’s lives have changed, relationships have changed, but everyone over here will be ok. We’re thankful for that, as I’ve mentioned. There are so many people who’s week was far more devastating than ours.

As we walked through this hard time, both Bigg and I reached out in different ways. Obviously. I have an outlet…I pay, what, about $19 a year to rant as much as I want. Yeah me. But both Matt and I reached out in different ways on the Facebook. Why? Cuz we can. That’s why. There was no bashing; no whining; no posturing, just pain. Lots of peeps stepped up, so many, but I’ve already written about that.

Then there was one interesting comment coming from nowhere’sville from noclueman who jumped on this opportunity to showboat a bit all of his manliness. Nut up, he says. Go train, stop whining on the FB. Nut up. Even more lulz than some stranger taking time out of his day to call out a big, strong man showing pain, is anyone “liking” this comment.

Soooooo, just so I’m clear. Facebook is ok to post food porn; post soft porn; post various rants of varying degrees of little importance (including mine); kid pics, dog pics, dog’s poop pics. Your new haircut; your new glasses; your Christmas decorations; your political views (snore); your gym’s obnoxiously shitty form lift videos; your arts and crafts activities; your new kick ass S&C job; your new dining room table, blah, blah, blah. Everything under the sun. But post something real, maybe something painful, and the idiots come out with a Nut Up? Hmmmmmm.

At the end of the day, all this guy showed is that he’s a troll. Well done. The internet doesn’t have nearly as many trolls as it should. But I’m curious, how sad is your life that you troll the Facebook just looking for ways to prove how big of a man you want to be? I bet you say ‘Fuck’ a lot too, yes? Cuz that’s manly (yes, I say fuck a lot. I like it. But I’m a dainty girl so I don’t have to prove how big my TT is.) As if someone who regularly trains heavier than the majority of man needs advice from a troll? Shut up. You’re sad.

Showing pain isn’t self pity. By the way. It’s pain. A human emotion. I’d wonder why it evoked such an emotional response from a stranger?? Dude, you okay??? Need to talk? Need a hug? No? Ok, well then just GFY.

I feel better. Thanks WordPress. I heart you.

Half of life is fucking up, the other half is dealing with it.

Henry Rollins

Training Log

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Iron & Aloha

This has been a bad week. A very bad week. Some of us have walked through fire and have quickly came out on the other side. Some are just beginning their journey through darkness here on our sunny world. Some of us have grown; have begun healing; are starting new chapters in their lives in new homes, and though our portraits have changed a bit in our every day, we’ll all be fine.

Others have lost fathers, grandfather’s, and husband’s. An unimaginable tragic Thanksgiving according to my FB feed. Sad news of loved ones of friends passing. Shocking news of an Iron god leaving our strength world and the lives of his loved ones and friends. A stark reminder that as long as there is breath in our bodies, we can do better. Make things right. Not give up. Don’t wait.

A new and dear friend of mine made a comment this week about my probably not getting to train like I’m used to which is adding to the stress and exhaustion of not sleeping. I said, no, I train. Because when life turns to shit, I turn to the Iron. I’ve often wondered what people do in times of crisis who don’t have the Iron to turn to? I cannot imagine. The Iron is always there, not only wanting to beat you, but to give you comfort. The feel of the weight on your back, pushing you down, cheering you on to get back up. Telling you to not give up. Just stand up with me on your back. You and me kid. My job today isn’t to beat you, it’s to keep you standing. Just stand up. The Iron is my go to. I would be lost without it. I’d also be horrendously fat and unhealthy in my non-Iron depression. No thank you. I’ll take strong and sad any day to that.

But I’ve learned recently where else to turn. To my friends. Yes, this is new for me. I’ve always kept things close to the vest, not letting too many people know my shit. Too often people close to me have used personal information learned in times of crisis later on against me. Lesson learned, don’t tell. Deal with it on my own. Until now. I couldn’t do it on my own. This one was different. Harder. The hardest. I needed help. So I reached out. Luckily for me, some amazing people grabbed my hand and let me know I’m not alone. Amazing.

See, when I hit town, I became a part of Bigg’s life. His friends became my friends, his family became my family. Everyone was incredibly welcoming. I’ll always be thankful for that. But what happens when shit hits the fan and that network instantly shuts down? Actually, an entire new network (that had been there already in varying degrees) opened up to me and suddenly I wasn’t on my own dealing with a horrible situation. It still overwhelms me, how many of you reached out. So many mutual friends too, you all made an impact. All of the Aloha you sent or helping hands you extended…you’ve taught me so much. Not only to remember to reach out, but to extend myself to others so THEY can reach to me when needed.

Iron and Aloha. I would be lost without it. I cannot ever convey to all of you my (our) thanks for helping us see this through. You know who you are. All of you. There are a few who have my complete love and devotion, you know who you are. Thank you.

tosabarbell will be around for a while longer. A long while.

 

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”
A.A. Milne
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A Sneaky Round…

Leave it to me to not shut up. My blog, my rules. Heh.

First off, to all of you have taken the time to comment, text, private message, call and support BOTH Matt and I right now, thank you. It is unbelievable how many people care and really wanted us to succeed. Overwhelming actually. Thank you.

As you know, I try to keep shit real here. This is real. The last 30 hours have caused a lot of self-reflection. Not right/wrong, but WTF. Then I had an amazing conversation with a friend of mine. Now, V is as opposite to me when dealing with things as we could be. I’m intense, she’s one hair flower wreath removed from Woodstock. And who knows, she could have one of those I just haven’t seen yet. She’s French. I don’t know if that matters. She’s my only French friend. But she had the courage to speak up and tell me what I needed to hear. No, not what I WANTED to hear. Needed. A kick in the arse.

First off, I can be scary. Yup. I probably use that, oops, not probably. I totally use that. Keeps people out. Works magically. I’m intense and that’s me but I needn’t be scary. Scary enough to prevent loved ones to have a real conversation with me. Not good. I need to chill, listen more, forgive more.

Uhhhh, what? Forgive? OF COURSE I FORGIVE, SHUT UP! Or do I? Uh oh. I don’t. I have a list of the Unforgiven a lifetime long. Sure, shit happens and sorry’s were said but did I forgive and move on? Nope. I felt completely justified saying all of these things strung together makes up a whole snowball of crap that can’t be overcome. But then the sorry’s were all for naught. If I haven’t forgiven. And I haven’t, in a lot of cases, but this big one right now has caused a lot of pain. (Now before all of you, “but he has a part in this too” start to speak, ya, I know-he’s busy owning it. I’m talking about me now.)

We’re talking. I’ve forgiven and ya know what? It feels good.  Lighter. Happier. No matter what happens here, I’ve learned a valuable lesson about myself.

I’ve often wondered, especially in the last couple of days, why do so many other couples make it? What is so special about them? Honestly? I dunno. But a lot of fingers are pointing at the F word and it ain’t my all time favorite one with four letters. It’s forgiveness. I have a few more calls to make tonight, on asking for some…and giving some. I’m not sure how the calls will go, it’s scary. And maybe in some cases I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I’ll ask anyway.

Thank you. Now I’ll shut up…

…but prolly not. Heh.

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