cindy's world

2 posts ago, Adam left the following comment, which I think deserves its own post that I could read again later for inspiration and not have to hunt down through the comments sections:

“Happy birthday late. Here’s my horoscope for you:

You ever think back to your teens and wish you’d had it more together and how if you could go back you’d do it better because you weren’t awake enough at the time but now you are? Or your (early) 20s?

Your 30s are your power years, if you’re awake. Your you years. Your superhero years. Project ahead to your 50s and imagine what you’ll say then looking back on now, how if you could go back (to now) you’d do it better because you’re more aware.

I say focus not on what you don’t have or what schedule you’re behind on. Wake up early and discover/define your power and hurl it/you into daring enterprises and helping people. I say turn 40 breathless.”

It got me thinking. And my thoughts were in this response:

“I ‘woke up’ senior year in high school, in the sense that I saw and was able to behave accordingly with the Big Picture. Before that I was always disappointed by people and spent much of my time wallowing in that disappointment. As far as doing things better, I kinda wish I hadn’t ditched Cirque du Soleil and gotten in the biggest trouble I’d ever gotten into in high school, but it’s become one of those events that changed me and prevented future stupid decisions, and strengthened my sense of integrity. So, yeah. Not much I would change as far as HS goes.

Now my 20s was kinda scary, in the sense that after college, it was all sort of a blur without midterms and finals and years in college to mark the passing of time. But I think I continued to learn vicariously and develop my sense of self.

One of the essays we had to write in high school German class (in the German language, obviously) had the topic “In 10 years, how would you see yourself now?” I can’t remember what I wrote. But I like your idea of projecting forward and retrospecting back to my 30s to write it how I’d want to remember it later.

Thank you, Adam.

P.S. See, you should comment more often.”

What an odd week. It began with my judge gone (vacation at a dude ranch, seriously) and causing me to float, covering 2-3 courtrooms a day, with a holiday smack in the middle of the week, a par-tay on the rooftop with boyfriend, friends and coworkers to watch fireworks, my judge finally returning today, and ends with a funeral tomorrow. Some other oddities:
– met up with my childhood friend Lily and her husband Arnold for dinner on Monday at Market City Caffe in Brea, one of my favorite Italian joints, and had Crepes Suzette (butter, powdered sugar, orange zest, orange syrup, Grand Marnier, a la mode) at a new crepes joint on the same street for dessert. Spent the $30 giftcard I’ve had for 2-3 years at the annual sale of Bed, Bath & Beyond.
– at the gym on Monday, I was entering my stats on the elliptical trainer as I began my workout, and when it asked for my age, I had to put in 31 for the first time. How official it felt.
– I only worked out Monday and Tuesday since Wednesday was the holiday, didn’t do it Thursday cuz after driving to the gym, parking, and going around the car to get my workout bag, I realized I’d left my shoes and socks at home. The one thing you can’t just buy a quickie replacement for at the gym. Today, Mr. W talked me out of gymming at lunch cuz he didn’t feel like it, so we met up for Lee’s Sandwiches instead. But we did just return from a 3.25 mile run just now. He’s at the pool to cool off and I’m sitting here blogging in sweaty running clothes.
– I have a headache from my ears being so cold from the run, and uterine cramps from PMS.
– I actually sorted and did laundry this week. I didn’t complete The Laundry Project as after presorting, turned out I had 9 piles/loads of clothes to wash, but I did get approximately halfway done. The categories left to wash and dry and put away are handwash delicates, reds, regular lights, rough-and-tumble lights, and regular darks. I’d already done sheets, delicate lights, delicate darks, and rough-and-tumble darks. (What OCD? I really have that many clothes that need washing. Nearly a full load each category! That’s how much I hate and procrastinate on laundry.)
– James came by yesterday as I was working on The Laundry Project and brought my birthday present. He’d complained that I was taking too long retrieving it, as it was taking up too much space on his desk at work. Why was it at work instead of home, you ask? Because he has no room in his house for this, he said. He did indeed hand me a gargantuan wrapped box that should really be housing a 32″ TV from the 80s (i.e., NOT flat screen), and I told him it better not contain a life-size fully animated interactive electronic bust of a mountain gorilla. Mr. W and I had bought that from The Sharper Image for Mr. W’s brother for Christmas, and it was so lifelike it scared the bejezus out of people walking by the kitchen, where it was sitting all disembodied on the counter. It even broke my heart when everyone was playing Guitar Hero in the living room and it was lonely by itself in the kitchen, and would let out these sad elongated coos. But James reassured me that it did not contain any gorilla parts. Instead, I tore into the box to find…a big heavy coil of garden hose! Woohoo! And a new Zaino spray polish product, plus a new Zaino polishing pad. I had to laugh. Both the Accord and IS350 sitting in my garage are filthy, and my singular excuse for not doing something about it had been, “I don’t have a hose, I’ll have to wait till I go to my parents’/Mr. W’s/James’ house to wash cars together.” So much for that. The box is now a nice cat toy for Dodo in the living room.
– James and I had mall food for dinner last nite after he brought over my hose, since I was craving a particular little French cafe in the Brea Mall. I think it’s called the Le Diplomat Cafe. Afterwards, I finally spent the $50 gift certificate to Pottery Barn that college roommie Diana gave me for my bday in 2003. Met the most computer-unsavvy chick I’d seen since the 80s, and she was our age, so no excuse! We had to explain AOL vs. SBC Global DSL Internet Service to her. She was paying for both at $49/mo each. And she didn’t know what we meant by “uninstall AOL.” So she begged James to help her and he nicely gave her a business card, telling her to call if she “really, really can’t find anyone else.” She was cute, too. Too bad she’s married. (For James, I mean.)

So aside from the yet-to-come funeral of my coworker’s mother tomorrow morning, that concludes my irregular week in a (rather oversized) nutshell.

It occurred to me in my recent stats post that people may not be aware of the current scale for body fat percentage, so here it is as according to FamilyEducation website (sorry for the formatting; my blog spaces things funny so I couldn’t line up a chart):

IN WOMEN:
Body fat percentile provides the most accurate estimate of body composition. Body fat percentile is an indication of the percent of your body that is made of fat. Normal body fat percent for women is 20 to 30 (for men it is lower). In women, below 17 is extreme low body fat; between 30 to 33, high body fat; and above 34, extremely high body fat or obese. The recommended healthy body fat percentiles increase slightly with age.

Body Fat Standards for Women Recommended by Age Group
* Ages 20-29:
Very low: <16%
Low: 16-19
Optimal: 20-28
Moderately high: 29-31
High: >31

*Ages 30-39:
Very low: <17
Low: 17-20
Optimal: 21-29
Moderately high: 30-32
High: >32

*Ages 40-49:
Very low: <18
Low: 18-21
Optimal: 22-30
Moderately high: 31-33
High: >33

*Ages 50-59:
Very low: <19
Low: 19-22
Optimal: 23-31
Moderately high: 32-33
High: >34

*Ages 69+:
Very low: <20
Low: 20-23
Optimal: 24-32
Moderately high: 33-35
High: >35

This is what I could find on men, as compared to women, on another website:

* For “athlete” body type:
Men: <10%
Women: <17%
* For “lean” body type:
Men: 10-15
Women: 17-22
* For “normal” body type:
Men: 15-18
Women: 22-25
* For “above average” body type:
Men: 18-20
Women: 25-29
* For “overfat” body type:
Men: 20-25
Women: 29-35
* For “obese” body type:
Men: 25+
Women: 35+

Mr. W bought a new Tanita scale today, the Innerscan BC-533, that gives you incredibly comprehensive body readings. Here’s mine:

Height: 5’2.5″
Weight: 126 lb
Body Fat Percentage: 24.8%
Body Water: 52.3%
Visceral Fat: 2 – “good” is 1-12
Muscle Mass: 90 lb
Physique Rating: 5 – “standard: average muscle, average body fat”
Bone Mass: 4.8 lb
Daily Caloric Intake to Maintain: 2134
Metabolic Age: 19 (I’m not sure how accurate the metabolism measurements are, since there was no option for me to input that I’d messed up my metabolism with anorexia.)

Visceral fat is fat in the internal abdominal cavity surrounding the vital organs. High levels of fat here puts one at risk for heart disease, Type II diabetes, and high blood pressure. If the rating is 1-12, it’s healthy, 13-59 is increasing levels of unhealthy.
Physique Rating is based on the ratio of body fat to muscle mass, on a scale of 1 (“hidden obese: looks healthy but high body fat percentage to low muscle mass”) to 9 (“very muscular: lower than normal body fat with above-average body fat”).
Metabolic Age is based on basal metabolic rate (BMR, or “resting” metabolism rate, calculated by using a medically proven weight vs. age formula and then factoring in your activity level and current body composition), and comparing that to the normal metabolism of an average person from ages 12-50.

Here’s Mr. W’s stats:
Height: 6′.5″
Weight: 188 lb
Bodyfat Percentage: 10.2%
Body Water: 58.8%
Visceral Fat: 5
Muscle Mass: 160.4 lb
Physique Rating: 8 – “thin and muscular, athlete: lower than normal bodyfat, adequate muscle mass”
Bone Mass: 8.2 lb
Daily Caloric Intake to Maintain: 4621
Metabolic Age: 12

Mr. W is going to set up a spreadsheet to chart our progress. His goal is to get to a Physique Rating of 9; and mine is to get to a Physique Rating of 8 (unless I start losing curves, in which case I wanna be a 6, which is “standard muscular, athlete: average body fat, high muscle”). I also want my body fat to drop to 20%-22%, my weight to drop to about 118lbs, and my height to increase to 5’6″. *sigh*

So I was listening to the radio this morning and Danny Bonaduce said that statistically, 99.9% of people who get bitten by a rattlesnake survive if the person is over 125 lbs. Well heck, I’M over 125 lbs (just barely), but my goal is to get way under that. And apparently it’s now rattlesnake season, as dogs are being rattlesnake trained so they don’t come yelping home with two puncture wounds on their nose. Maybe I should just maintain the weight I am now, you know, for life and death reasons. Heh.

Today, Vanessa sent out a mass email trying to entice those weaker-minded of us to join her in a misery-loves-company event. A portion of her email reads:

“The second event I just signed up for is Heart Ridge 1/2 Marathon. It’s 13.1 mile course through rolling hills and fire-roads. Date: September 15th
Let me know if you are game! Sign up soon cuz space fills up quickly!”

After I wiped the tears away from laughing so hard, I figured that what must’ve happened, was that in one of her partied-out half-drunk states, someone on a dare convinced her to sign up for the race online. When she sobered up and saw what she’d done after reading the confirmation email the next day at work and screaming for a few minutes, she decided to trick as many of her friends into running with her as possible, so that she could hang onto us during the race as we drag her across the last miles.

Nice try, Vanessa. But I saw the fine print. I wrote back:
” ‘rolling hills’? Ick! I like flat courses.”

She responded:
“Don’t they make is sound so nice though? Rolling hills, not hilss that will make you want to cry for your mommy!”

That looks like an admission of guilt to me! So she DOES know it’s all a bunch of shananigans! I returned:
” ‘Enjoy the natural scenery and soft wind as you gently round those rolling hills.’
Reality: ‘Gasp fruitlessly for air after holding your breath to keep from sucking in cow stench as you hate life running straight uphill in abandoned countrysides.’ ”

All kidding aside, way to go, Vanessa! I’m so proud of you for setting such amazing goals for yourself, and for being strong and recovering so well. *high-five* Hmm. Maybe I oughta think about joining her.

I’m a little bit nervous about the next two weeks. I’m scheduled to be in China. I’m not nervous because I think Mr. W would stand on my nerves until we break up, or because I’m afraid of catching the bird flu, or because I’m afraid the flight would crash. No. I’m nervous because there are NO 24 Hour Fitness clubs in China. I doubt the hotels we’re staying at will have gyms for the guests. Working out is just not a priority in China.

I can do some minor resistance training using my own body weight in the hotel room (crunches, push-ups, lunges, squats), but what am I to do for cardio? My mom said to not worry about the exercise factor since a lot of walking is involved in the tours. Walking for me is not cardio. I need to run at least 3 miles. I doubt I’d even break a sweat walking. Mr. W suggested running the streets in China in the evenings, but 3 miles is enough to get me lost. Maybe we can run the stairs in the hotels if we don’t get locked into the stairwells.

I don’t know why I’m stressing about this. It’s not like I didn’t take week-long or even month-long hiatuses on my own when I was feeling down or sick or just burnt out. But I am paranoid right now. I know I’m gonna be eating in China; our trip is inclusive of all meals. I feel like my weight is so precarious right now. It’s been fluctuating in the upper half of the 120s range. If it bursts into the 130s… I can already feel the tears! It was so incredibly hard to break through the plateau and get into the 120s again.

Maybe what I’ll do, is ask the tour guide where the destination is for each spot and I’ll run there and wait for the group.

Okay. I see that I have completely lost it.

I’m off to the gym.

CAUTION: This post contains workplace unfriendly material. DO NOT…I repeat…*DO NOT* click on the “more” below when you’re at work, or in front of your parents, or your children, or other people who may be offended or embarrassed by human nudity. In fact, if you’re related to me or Mr. W, don’t open this further. And if you don’t want to see nekkid men and/or TMI stuff, don’t click on the “more.” You know what? Just close your browser right now. Thanks.

You guys know that I got Mr. W a 3-year prepaid gym membership for Christmas. You know that he started working out with me every lunchtime and sometimes after work and on weekends, and that he’s become even more fanatic about the gym than me. He didn’t have any personal training, except for a few tutorials from me, and then he’s gone and run with it. Here are some “before” photos from last year, and “after” photos I took this weekend, which I’m really proud of, not only because he’s done an amazing thing for himself, his health and longevity, but because I am an amazing photographer. Uh-huh. That’s right, I take credit for this.

Again, DON’T click on the “more” below if you’re at work or could possibly get in trouble for viewing non-PG images. I’m serious.

(more…)

Ass was the theme around lunchtime today. I felt the soreness in my butt all too distinctly when I got up to walk to my car at lunch. I was, however, comforted by the fact that the pain was equally distributed between the two butt cheeks. That means I did my workout properly yesterday. Driving to the gym minutes later, Sir Mixalot’s “Baby Got Back” came on the radio. A huge smile appeared on my face and I involuntarily started wriggling my butt to the music in my car. It was like driving around back in high school! Except with a much better sound system in the car, and a more painful butt.

“So fellas (YEAH!), fellas (YEAH!),
Do your girlfriends have the butt? (TELL ME!)
So shake it, shake it, shake that healthy butt,
Baby got back!”

I had to make some training and membership inquiries of the sales guy for Vanessa, so after finding him, I sat down at the desk with him for about 10 minutes as he explained the newest packages to me. He mentioned that one of the girls at the gym right now has a bet with him to see who can lose the most body fat percentage by the end of March, and that when she’d come by earlier, he’d deviously offered her chocolate, which she refused. He said he walked by where she was doing bicep curls with her trainer, and he joked, “Forget the biceps, work her out on her glutes!” She’d retorted, “Don’t worry about my butt when you oughta worry about your gut!”

Since I was late getting to the gym and made even later by talking to the sales guy, there was 20 minutes left before my usual time to leave the gym when I stood up from the sales table. I briefly considered just turning around and going back to work, but I couldn’t do it. I haven’t missed one noontime workout since I came back on Wednesday, and add to that one belly dancing session last nite. So I changed as fast as I could and did 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer, making myself so late that I sacrificed my after-workout shower. Oh well. If someone can smell me, they’re too close in my personal space anyway.

My sore ass nipped me every hurried step from the parking structure back into the courtroom.

…that there’s a finite amount of sexiness between couples. There’s this ball, this wad of sexy, and the two people can draw from it and divide it however they do. (This is probably why I’m h0tter when I’m single.) That being said, this post is a complaint that Mr. W is stealing all the sexiness that we share! 2 weeks of ailment, 2 weeks off from the gym, and my weight’s back up. Yup, I weighed myself this evening. I’m so upset. While I’m sitting there pouting about this fact, Mr. W found an opening to tell me that his size 34s are becoming hip huggers, and he’d just recently bought the 34 jeans (down from a 36). What the heck!! So now he’s all cut with these nice abs and yoke and stuff and I’m just this puffy mushy thing! If I gain another pound, standing together with Mr. W we’ll look like the number “10”, to quote Jay Mohr. Actually, I’m small, so we’ll look more like “lo.” “Lo and behold! See the most opposite looking couple in the world! He’s tall, she’s short; he’s light, she’s dark; he’s vertical, she’s spherical!” No matter what my lungs tell me tomorrow, I’m going back to the gym. I’m gonna bring some sexy back. So there!

Some inspiration from elsewhere in my blog…