I CHALLENGE YOU TO A SQUAT!

OK I know I just posted, buuut I found this on Fitocracy and it's inspired me to do it. It's a squat challenge. Make that booty pop! Twerk* what your mama gave you! Shake it like a salt shaker! Other silly motivational sayings!!

Join me? I've got 2 people who've already said they're going to do it. I'll be checking in on you all periodically, so don't think we're not watching.

Pretty sure stalking wouldn't be illegal if they all looked like this...

Now, since I just found it today, we're going to do day 1 Today, Wednesday the 4th. You can do this! Can you imagine how your toosh might look though after 31 days? I mean seriously.

Leave a comment if you wanna join the booty revolution. ;) 

<3
A Redhead

*Note: If you don't know what "twerking" is… bless you. Don't google it, don't look up "Miley Cyrus twerk", don't ask someone to demonstrate. Just live in your bubble, and be thankful you're in a happier place than the rest of us.

The McRib is… Broke. Or maybe just sore.

So Hubbins and I have joined a gym near our house.

I know I know… "It's a waste of money", "you have a free gym at work", "are you actually going to use it?!" blah blah blah. I know.

And I don't care. Neener neener!

Buuuut. 1) We got a stupid good deal on it and paid less than ½ of what we would have if the membership hadn't been through his job. 2) Paying for a year-long gym membership IS motivating, because I don't want to just watch our money disappear. 3) I honestly just hate going in the middle of the day at work.

So anywho. The gym we joined is faaantastic. It's shiny and pretty and has a pool and it brings all the happies to the yard. Or beefcakes to the weight room. Or fatties to the lifting area (like me! =D ).

As a pseudo-segue, have I told you guys how ridiculously skilled I am at hurting myself? No seriously. I managed to dislocate my knee in my sleep. In. My. Sleep. I truly am a master, and I don't even mean to be. That's how good I am.

So anyway, I managed to hurt my rib in quite the mysterious fashion on Saturday night/Sunday morning. I don't know how, I don't know what I did, all I know is I woke up with excruciating pain in my rib in a very localized spot. Then I'd move and it was gone. Then I'd move and it'd come back. In the last few days since, it's generally fine, but it still hurts depending on certain moves.

Naturally, I saw this as an excuse not to go to the gym. But I'm torn, right? I need to go to the gym. In some deep recess of my body, I want to go to the gym. Buuuut Rib. RIB! My little riblet! It's wounded! I can't go hurt it more!

Unfortunately my mom (albeit wonderful) is incredibly unsympathetic with her torn knee and need to walk half-marathons. Thanks for the support, WOMAN. (My mom's my bestie. I love her hard, don't let her convince you otherwise) She was all, "GO TO THE GYM. GO. YOU'RE ALREADY THERE. JUST GO.", and I was all "I CAN BE HERE ANYTIME I WANT! I LIVE A MILE AND A HALF DOWN THE ROAD!". Sadly, moms know best (even when you're old and married) and I went inside.

I skipped on Monday, but after my pseudo argument and fake whining with my mom, I dragged myself and my wounded Ribbie inside the gym. I did the treadmill for a brisk 22-ish minutes and felt pretty good with that. Tonight I'm going to try to go again after I pick up a prescription, and do some leg workouts. Word around the mama is that leg stuff shouldn't hurt Riblet more, but who knows. Mom may be preparing me for my doom and I don't even know.

Wish me luck tonight friends, as Ribbles and I attempt the gym even though I want to whine and lay on the couch drinking chai and staring at our Christmas tree. (Yeah that's up, it's been up since Saturday)

How are you all doing? Meet any new goals lately?? Fall off the wagon? 

Mysteriously hurt your body in the middle of the night?

<3
A Redhead

Sometimes I throw things.

I ran into the house and threw my arms around my bear of a husband, "15 minutes!" I panted, "I have 15 minutes to get ready!". I kissed him on the mouth, threw my purse down on the counter and my coat on the couch, and ran up 2 flights of stairs to our bedroom. I stood in front of a row of dresses trying to catch my breath and lamented that I hadn't shaved my legs in a socially acceptable amount of time. "Tights…" I muttered. What was I going to wear with tights? Do I even know where my tights are? Trying to think quickly, I grabbed my bin of socks (and occasional hosiery) off the shelf and sorted through quickly trying to find those elusive black hose.

Getting frustrated that I still had yet to be dressed, and that 5 precious minutes had passed, I tried on outfit after outfit- hating each more than the last. This one's too tight. This one's too short. It's too cold for this one. This one's too big. All of them were wrong in some way, and by now 9 minutes had passed, and it looked like a post-black Friday shopping session had taken place in my closet. I finally settled on a dress that I'd worn for our first date; it seemed fitting for dinner at a new restaurant, and I could throw on a cardigan [and tights]. I quickly went to put on my trusty black tights, and… they didn't fit. Maybe my thighs had doubled in size since last Winter. Maybe they had shrunk in the wash. Let's be honest, maybe they'd just gathered weirdly since I was rushing to put them on. Whatever it is, they had failed me and I sat on our bed feeling defeated. I ran back into the closet, grabbed the hosiery bin and dumped it onto our bed. I found another pair of thin leggings that would work, but when I put them on I felt that my curvy legs looked too shiny with the material- that I looked like I walked on 2 curvaceous sausages.

My sweet husband smiled as I walked around moaning that my legs were "too shiny!". 14 minutes. I flopped on our bed and felt terrible. I hated all of my clothing, I hated my body, I hated my "shiny" legs… Everything which would normally be a not big deal WAS a big deal, and it was devastating me in such an annoying way. The Bearded Wonder wrapped his arms around me and said everything he knows to be true: "You look amazing. You're so beautiful. I love you so much.". But when you're an irrationally emotional woman, these words (while so heartfelt and wonderful to hear) just bounce off your lustrous legs and fall onto the floor.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

So. That was my Friday night. I'd had a perfectly fine day, and in a matter of ~15-20 minutes I'd completely bottomed out and was hating my body. How did that happen? Was it because I get really stressed out when I'm feeling rushed? Was it because I needed to do laundry, or shave my legs? What is it that makes a woman go from feeling pretty fine and dandy to plummeting to the belly of the beast? Hubbins was giggling at me running spastically around our room, and I told him that tomorrow I would find this hilarious, but today I wanted to hide under our blankets and not come out.

No, Jess, I wasn't!

Anyway. Today is Wednesday and it's the day before it's socially acceptable to wear sweatpants to a meal (you know, so you have eatin' room. har har.), and I'm muuuuch better. I still haven't figured out what the problem was, but I think this was more of a post to garner some solidarity. Sometimes you hate your body and your clothes, but it's ok. It happens. It's normal. If you have ovaries, it probably happens weekly! So breathe deep through the disdain you find radiating off your shiny legs (ahem), and remember that tomorrow will be better. Pinky swear.

If you do Thanksgiving, enjoy your foods! If you do Black Friday, throw an elbow! My friend and I are doing our annual black friday tradition (which we totally have down to a science), and plan on walking into Target like so:

You can't handle our Black Friday swagger. Or something.

Any Thanksgiving plans, friends? Do you do Black Friday? Do you have a plan of attack?

<3
A Redhead

Treat Yo' Self

Today is a Monday, which generally speaking tends to bring groans and moans. However, today, I want you to treat yourself.

A friend of mine e-mailed me this morning and said "I feel fat and gross today! Blech!", and I 100% get it. I agonized for an embarrassingly long time (read: 20 freaking minutes) about what to wear to the gym because I felt like a fat face in everything I put on.

I agonized over what to wear to the gym. THE. GYM. I ended up putting on a baggy shirt, then deciding it was too baggy and I looked like a bag lady (see what I did there? Eh? Eh? Shut up it's early.). In my mind, I couldn't win in what to wear to go get sweaty in. How lame, right?

Somedays we just hate how we look. If you're a woman, it's probably an innate feeling that you have a hard time shaking. If you're a man, you probably still have days like that. I'm sorry for all of us for those days when we feel fat and gross and want to wear a trash bag to the gym.

So. On this day November 18th in the year of our Lord two-thousand and thirteen, I give you full permission to love the crap outta yourself and not worry about the "bad" stuff. Get a little vain about stuff.

Do you have enviable eyebrows? TREAT YO' SELF.
Do you have legs for days? TREAT YO' SELF.
Do you have shiny hair that's adorable from a new haircut? TREAT YO' SELF.
Are you a nice person? TREAT YO' SELF.

Even in my darkest days of depression, I knew that I liked my eyes and my hair. So today if I were in a situation where was I was hating myself and feeling blobby, I would focus on my eyes and my hair. Get specific about complimenting yourself. Go all Ryan Gosling on yourself if you need to. "Hey girl, your eyes reflect your shirt beautifully".

Ryan Gosling just gets us, I swear. 

So friends. Go love yourself. It's Monday, but you're still a spectacular person- even if you feel blobby. I promise you don't smell, and I promise you're lookin' like a fox. =)

Here are some obscenely encouraging/uplifting videos to make you feel good about your day. Also, "Phat Miley" is my ridiculously talented friend Liz who inspires me on a regular basis. True story. Go check out her Etsy shop to buy some LOVE stuff.

This chick literally rips the words "Fat" and "Cellulite" off her body as she dances to an empowering song. Holla. 

Yeah that's right, she made a fake album cover for the video screen still. She's the boss. 

Beautiful model with some beautiful words to say. 

There's a smidge of language. Wear headphones if you're at work or around small children. 

Enjoy your Monday treating yourself. Love you kids. Love yourselves.

<3
A Redhead

Fifty Shades of Awesome

This marks my 50th post friends! Woop Woop!!

Yaaayyyyy!! I have a few other posts drafted in my box right now, but I decided that my 50th would be dedicated to being overly happy with yourself. Why?

Because on Twitter there was a terrible trend going around with hating on men and women of above-average size. I'm being vague with the actual phrasing since I don't want to promote their hate tag and show up in their analytics. Especially after I just read that the originator of said "movement" called it a raging success.

Yeah, no thanks.

The body positive movement has been picking up steam the last few years. Amazing men and women are stepping up and saying "Hey, let's love the fat kids. You're beautiful as you are.". Don't get me wrong, you need to be healthy. Your health comes first. But I'm a fat kid and healthy as a [non-punny] horse. If you've got the diabeetus, blood pressure through the roof, and you haven't seen the outside world in awhile, you ARE still beautiful and valued and treasured by many, buuuut you should probably see a doctor.

Wilford Brimley and the matching cat! How great! 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to skinny shame people and tell someone they're painfully skinny and need a cheeseburger. Every. Body. Is. Beautiful. Every person, every body shape, every size, is beautiful. If someone tells you otherwise, tell them to shove it. Because you're amazing, and those people don't deserve to tell you otherwise.

Ready for some knowledge? Ahem <clears throat obnoxiously>, Eleanor Roosevelt once said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" (thank you, Princess Diaries). But seriously? Why give that power to total strangers? I mean it's a power you shouldn't give to people in general, but strangers? On the internet?? C'maaahhhhnn.

You're better than that. You're worth more than that.

I know it's hard. You guys know that I know it's hard. But it's possible. Get your health in order, make sure everything's working fine and that you're not in any kind of danger (because seriously, diabeetus), and just love on yourself. Look in the mirror and say how amazing you are. Say it with me, "I am amazing!". Say it again if you didn't before. Solidarity!

Confession time: yesterday I wore a semi-trendy outfit. Not something I normally do; I tend to dress in no particular trend, but yesterday there were 2 on my person, and darnit, I felt GOOD. I sashayed in my closet a little. My co-worker kept making eyes at me (she's a close friend, we're both married, it's all in good fun =P), my toosh looked good in my jeans, and darnit I felt good.

You can't change what people say. You can't make people stop saying hateful things because your body offends them. But you know what? You can change how you react. My body offends you? Ok? So? My husband loves it, I'm pretty good with it most of the time, why do I care what you think? Don't give people power over YOUR self to make YOU feel bad about YOUR body. You are amazing. They're mean-spirited and ig'nant.

I'm not one to quote Kathy Griffith, buuuuut…

You guys know [pre-wedding] I was working out and working on my diet. But that was never because I disliked myself. I think I'm pretty awesome these days, but that's a mentality that's taken years and millions of tears to get to. (Read the full thing here if you don't believe me!) I want to make sure I can keep up with my kids (whenever we start popping 'em out, that is). I don't want the diabeetus (sorry Wilford). I want to be around for a loooong time, and I don't want to pay extensive medical bills to make that happens.

So. You are valued. You are beautiful. You are amazing. Fat, thin, somewhere in the middle, all of it. If marriage is your thing, there's someone out there looking for someone like you. If not, then go on with your bad self and strut yo' stuff!

So nice I said it twice. 

<3

A Redhead

What's Your Excuse?

I can't find my sneakers.

It's too hot out.

My clothes are all dirty.

Where's my gym bag?

I can't find my sports bra.

(grumble grumble grumble)

So what's your excuse for not working out? The top [lame] excuse has been mine the last few weeks. Since we moved into our house, I literally cannot find my sneakers. I thought they were in my gym bag, which I also couldn't find, but once my husband (hehe) found the bag, I discovered there were still no gym sneakers.

I've been living a blissful yet slightly fearful state for the last month-ish because I haven't weighed or measured myself since before the wedding. I also haven't worked out since before the wedding. You understand my fear now, right?

That's right, I resort to candy too.

But the time is nigh. Last night Hubbins and I went to a running store and we each got fitted for fancy new sneakers. The girls were both super helpful: they had us stand on this fancy little machine where they checked our arches, then had us walk on a treadmill to see how our gait is. Hubbins has incredibly flat feet, for anyone that was wondering, and I have a regular ole' arch. He seemed pretty excited though as he darted around the store in the bright blue kicks. He dashed between clothing racks, hopped up and down, breakdanced... Yep. This is all real life.

So we have fancy new shoes, I have no excuses, and yet I still find myself here with no gym bag. I honestly just forgot. I've gotten out of the habit of going to the gym, which is really sad considering how much I was going before. It's a crappy excuse, but they all are, aren't they? Tomorrow! I will be sweating tomorrow. Tonight I will pack my gym bag and throw it in front of our bedroom door so I will be forced to grab it on my way out.

Keep me accountable, will ya? :)

So. What's your excuse??

<3
A Redhead

You may be a fat kid if...

*UPDATED!* (at the bottom) (because that's how I roll) (also people posted hilarious things on FB.)

 - You hear *plink plink plink* from across the room  and assume they're M&Ms hitting the ceramic bowl. Your heart rate quickens.

 - You scoff at someone who claims they don't remember what a Cinnabon tastes like. YOU fantasize about that cinnamon-y confection anytime you're within 5 miles of a shopping mall.

 - You don't count your super sweet coffee in your daily sugar allotment. Because it's coffee.

Oh, yeah, uh-huh. NO.

 - You can't find anything to satisfy "the spot", so you eat something healthier and feel sad inside.

 - You eat a second dinner because you got hungry talking about food. 

 - The waiter comes by asking if you want more bread and you give them a look often confused for a deranged psychopath.

 - You wait until that guy in the office with the candy bowl goes to the bathroom so you can attack the candy with gusto and he doesn't know it was you.

Oh yeah. It was me. 

What makes you a fat kid, friends?? I'm not saying these are all about me (though the 1st certainly prompted this post!), but c'mon. We've all been there. Feel free to post anonymously. =) 

<3

A Redhead