cindy's world

The judge took half an hour away from us for lunch to cram in more time for jury selection, so I was unable to go to the gym. Instead, I kept busy with something else…look who got a new little house!

It’s my big boy! The “little” avocado tree! My dad told me recently that an avocado tree has to be “mated”, male and female, to bear fruit, and asked if I wanted to graft his friend’s avocado tree into mine to take care of that. I told him I already knew that there has to be 2 trees together and that I’d already taken care of that by growing my little avocado tree a wife:

And then I found out from my dad that you can’t tell whether an avocado tree is male or female before it flowers for the first time. What?! It has DESIGNATED gender, like a human? I did not know that. I just figured you put 2 different trees together and they’ll straighten themselves out. So now it’s possible I may be raising a little gay or lesbian avocado couple. But 2 out of 4 courtroom personnel in here agree, the little avocado tree has a definite male presence. And the new seedling in the plastic cup took her sweet time springing out roots and a little stem as everyone waited, so it seems female to me!
For prior photos and a little avocado history, click here.

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+

The weekend went too fast! Where’d it go? On Sunday, I sat there and had to really think about whether the next day was Monday. When I found the answer, I was deeply disappointed.

Friday evening, Mr. W and I met up with my parents and maternal grandmother for dinner. My grandmother wanted to treat me and my mom to dinner, since Friday was my mom’s birthday and this Friday is mine. *panic* OH my GAWD, I did not realize that I have to flip the number up by one on Friday!!! Holy crap, where did the time go? Soon every time I enter my age on the cardio machines and on the digital scales, I’ll have to put…31! AAACK!! *hyperventillating* So anyway, my grandma gave me a cute little handbag with some Lancome eyeshadow and Victoria’s Secret “Love Spell” body spray, lotion and bath gel. That’s my favorite toiletry scent! What a koinkidink. My parents gave me a tiny golden dragon (my zodiac sign) encased in a small display stand shaped like a rickshaw, and a little glass horse figurine to put at the front of the rickshaw to pull the dragon around. It’s sooo cute. I had fun playing with it as if I were 5 years old. And of course, from both my parents and grandma, the much coveted, omnipresent gift among Chinese circles: red envelopes. My grandma’s contained $60, and my parents’ contained $160, which I was a bit distressed about, because that means they returned every bit of the money I spent on them for running shoes the weekend before.

On Saturday, Mr. W and I took a long walk to go errand shopping. He bought nylon rope to retie his hammock and the Tanita scale, and I bought a larger pot and potting soil for my little avocado tree. Ya know, that’s all I remember about that day. Hmm. Wow. I don’t even recall eating.

On Sunday, Mr. W and I got up bright and early and hit up Disneyland. This would mark our 2nd attempt to go on the new “Finding Nemo” submarine ride. The park opened at 8am, we were there right about that time, and the line for that ride was already 2 hours long. What the heck!! No ride could be THAT good. We decided again to skip it and instead, hopped on the virtually line-free “Indiana Jones Adventure” and “Pirates of the Carribbean” rides. Then we got back to his house, changed and got prettied up and went to his male best friend’s hosted buffet brunch in honor of their son’s high school graduation. I didn’t know that El Torito had buffet brunches, and was pleasantly surprised to find pretty delicious food. Mr. W’s daughter was already at the restaurant when we got there; we hadn’t seen her since his son’s graduation since both kids had been at their mom’s house since. We hugged each other and she exclaimed how pretty I looked, and I told her it’s weird without her around, the house is so quiet. I think I may have accidentally guilted her into coming back home with us that night. So Sunday night, the three of us watched Norbit (it’s sub-par even as a rental, despite the many stars) and ate popcorn after taking Daughter out to practice driving. This was our first time having her drive, and she did pretty well. I’m impressed that Mr. W didn’t yell or cuss, and no one lost their tempers. I’d left 5 or 6 belts on Daughter’s bed from the 80s that had been hiding in my closets so long that they actually came back in style. I’d told her that I was going to donate them along with the rest of the crap I’d cleaned out from my closets unless she wanted them, and she wanted them all. It’s really nice to have a little sister to pass stuff down to.

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*

This thing always happens to me when I peruse other people’s blogs. I look at their photos and I think, “Wow, that’s a really nice photo. I wonder if it’s really a photo of the blogger.” And I’d admire the composition of the portrait, and the clever poses and outfits, the beautiful figures and skin, and I’d think, “I wanna post a photo of me like that.” But I don’t have any. I wish I just had a recent nice pretty photo of myself. Something I’d look at and feel good about. Where some huge flaw wouldn’t wave at me, like maybe my thighs look huge, or I look midgety, or my face is pudgy, or my skin is horrid, or my upper arms look obese, or I look pregnant. It’s been awhile since I’d been pleasantly surprised by a photo of myself. Just now, I looked in the China photo collection, and what kind of photos did I take? Crap like this:

Times like this, I’m inspired to draw the way I wish I looked. Beautiful, slim, dreamily gazing into the distance of some beautiful horizon, hair long and floating around me, tall with slender (but toned) limbs, nice perky butt and boobs. Sigh…

Like, what happened to THESE days?…



These photos are from LAST YEAR!

We’re in the midst of jury selection for a criminal murder trial. About 15 minutes ago at the end of a break, the judge directed me to let our prospective jurors in from the outside hallway; breaktime’s over, and we’re going to dive back into jury selection. I opened the door, announced, “Okay jurors, you know the drill!” and they chuckled and filed into the courtroom. After I entered, the bailiff and I kept counting the jurors over and over and we kept coming up one juror short. So I took roll and discovered the name of the missing juror. One juror sitting in the jury box raised his hand. “Excuse me,” he said, “He might be outside in the hallway sleeping.” What?! I started walking back out toward the courtroom front doors again, passing by a DA who was visiting. The DA said discreetly to me, “Yeah, there’s a dude out there who’s asleep on a bench.”

I walked out, looked down the hall, and sure enough, there’s a youngish guy sitting upright on the bench, leaning his back and head against the wall behind him, eyes closed. All by himself. I walked up to him, my heels clicking loudly on the marble floors and echoing down the hall. He didn’t wake up. I stood over him, touched him lightly on the shoulder, saying, “Sir?” No response. I shook him again, harder. “Sir?” No response. I looked up in bewilderment. Oh crap. What if he had a heart attack or a stroke? Do I take his pulse? Should I shake him harder? Looking around, I saw a coworker who happened to pass through an adjoining hallway. He’d seen me talking to the guy, and I threw up my hands in a shrug with my eyes wide, like, “I don’t know what to do!” I walked up to the coworker and pleaded, “He’s not responding! I’m freaking out. Can you come with me just as a witness?” He kindly walked with me over to the guy, and as I approached again, the juror (thank GOD) groggily opened his eyes. “Are you a juror in our case?” I asked him.
He sat up suddenly. “Oh yes. Oh! I’m SO sorry,” he said.
“That’s okay, come on back in,” I said lightly leading him back down the hallway, thanking my coworker, who left us.
“I’m sooo sorry,” the juror said again, and we came back into the courtroom, he took a seat in the audience, and the judge resumed jury selection as usual.

Nobody knew that I practically wet myself out in the hall earlier, which would not have been a good thing, cuz I was wearing a skirt.

Despite my insistence that I don’t want to celebrate my birthday this year, and that all I want as a gift is a new pair of workout gloves, Mr. W booked a 3-day cruise yesterday as his gift to me. It leaves Long Beach port Friday evening, July 20th (easiest day for me to take off because my judge will be on vacation anyway), and returns the following Monday morning. Because Mr. W made these arrangements over the phone, I don’t know the information or itinerary for the trip, except that it’s supposed to go to Ensenada, Mexico and dock there all of Saturday. Yay, I get to have cheap Mexican lobster! (*watching Jordan wipe drool off her chin*)

I am feeling guilty that Mr. W is doing something so big for li’l ol’ me. But maybe it just goes to show, if you’ve been very very good, and you wish and pray very very hard, life will take care of you very very well. 😀

P.S. Does this mean I’ll have to get my own pair of workout gloves?

Months ago, Vanessa signed up for the Marine Corps Boot Camp Challenge which is to take place Saturday, October 6 at Camp Pendleton in San Diego, California, and extended an invitation to me to do the same, which I’d declined. The event is described as such on the event website:

EVENT FEATURES
The first and best! A fun and furious 3-mile course featuring obstacles used only by Marine Recruits at the Marine Recruit Depot. Get “encouragement” along the way at each obstacle by MCRD Drill Instructors. Compete as an individual or a member of a 3-person or 5-person team.
Great post-race party with plenty of music, food, drinks and beer, awards to the top 3 finishers in each category/age group, official race T-Shirts to all entrants. A very memorable day!

A couple weekends ago while hanging out at Mr. W’s male best friend’s (both men are former Marines, btw) house, we watched a new reality show called “The Academy” that depicts Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department recruits go through their “boot camp” training at a training academy local to us. I watched these people struggle on obstacle courses and wondered aloud whether I could pull off that training course. Mr. W had replied, “Pssh. You could do that entire obstacle course blindfolded.” Really. Hmm.

And then while hanging out with Dwaine last weekend, he was so enthusiastic about the obstacle course Mud Run he’d done that day that I thought about Vanessa’s prior invitation to this event. This morning, I finalized the talking-Dwaine-into-Boot-Camp-Challenge and registered myself. Yay!! Just to keep Mr. W in the loop, I put him on the email mailing list to confirm my registration, and I just spoke to him, and HE registered!!! DOUBLE YAY!!! He’s familiar with the training grounds from his own Marine Corp training days, and said the obstacles “are a blast.” Anyone else out there wanna join?

I’m in desperate need of some levity after that last post, so here it is.

While cleaning out my closet with my gym trainee this past weekend, I uncovered two T-shirts so tiny I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought them in New York in 2002. It was after September 11, 2001, so they were patriotic cute white Ts, one depicting a colorful US Air Force seal with a flag and an eagle, and the other showed the New York skyline with an enlarged Twin Towers with “9-11-01” over the picture, and “We Will Never Forget” under it. I brought those two shirts to work with me yesterday and gave them to my coworker, thinking one of her many young children could fit into them.

Today, I had this email exchange with that coworker:

Me: Did the t-shirts fit?
Her: Yes, as a matter of fact, Jack LOVED them and is wearing 1 today and has plans to wear the other either later today or tomorrow!!!!
Me: Yay! I’m so glad to hear that! How old is Jack?
Her: Jack is 4 years old and Loves anything Flag related-even if it just has red,white, and blue on it!!
Me: Wow, that’s quite a fortunate coincidence!
Her: He was undecided this morning and driving me crazy because I was trying to leave for work but I remember your shirts and he snatched them right up and pull the “Air Force” themed one over his head and said, “These are my favorite kinds of shirts.”
I told him that my friend had brought them all the way from New York and he said “WOOOOOOOOW!!! Tell her thanks for the Flag shirts!! I LOVE THEM!!!!!!”
I had lunch with them today and he was still telling us all about his favorite shirts and he was very careful not to get it dirty!!!

HOW cute is that?!

I had an awful night’s sleep last nite. I awoke at like 3:30 a.m. from a sickening dream that made me afraid to go back to sleep.

I dreamt that I woke up in the middle of the night next to Mr. W, but that I’d lost all attraction for him and desire to be with him, so I got out of bed and despite his protests, left.
Somehow I ended up in bed, in a hotel room, lying on the dark-haired chest of someone else, filled with the cozy ease that only being secure about our future could bring. I looked up and it was the cheating ex I was lying with. I sat up in confusion. Was I back together with him? Why would I do that? Slowly, my senses came back to me and I “realized” that I was in a Vegas hotel room suite that somehow he and I had arranged to meet at. I told him that I’m too conflicted and confused right now to be there or to pursue anything with him and that I was leaving. He angrily packed up his stuff as well, even tho I thought it was his room and he was there for his own reasons. I picked up my things, came back to the bedroom area to get other things, and saw that he’d passive-aggressively put a photo of me on the coffee table that he was apparently leaving behind, as well as a piece of paper that he’d scrawled some lines of poetry on. The poetry was to the effect of how happy he was, how unbelievable it was, that the time for our reconciliation had arrived. He’d apparently written that when we made our plans to meet up, which event was not in my dream. Anyway, I left the room, he left behind me, and I exited into a parking garage. An Asian girl, one of his optometry school friends, I assumed, was coming up to meet up with him to hang out. I said hello and apologized for not being able to hang out with them as planned and bolted. I ran down three flights of spiral parking garage stairs but the ex and his friend, coming down a more direct side stair that I hadn’t noticed was there, ended up right next to me on the ground floor. I kept trying to run from them, to create a larger distance (even tho they were not chasing me), but I moved so slowly, as if I was chest-deep in a swimming pool. I realized the most effective way to move faster was to kick off against the ground at a diagonal, just like in water. So I did that and struggled my way into what appeared to be a restaurant.
Now I was attending a dinner party in a casual bar-type restaurant with long cafeteria-style tables. Our party took up three tables one in front of the other; I was in the front table. Childhood friend Vicky was across from me, her sister Karen was a few people away to my right. I wondered whether I was even invited to this thing as, looking around, I didn’t see any of my regular hang-out friends altho I did recognize some people from James’ BBS from back in ’93 and some of Vicky’s pharmacy school friends. The guys around me were dorky geeky fobby types that I would not consider dating. All of a sudden, as if agreed upon and on cue, three such dorky guys sitting behind me turned at the same time and started trying to chat us up. Instantly, Vicky, Karen and I got up to leave. We refused to be picked up on by these guys. And then I woke up.

I laid there in the dark, trying to interpret the dream. Okay, so my impression of Mr. W and the ex in the dream was that Mr. W was lightness, and the ex was darkness. So they must be flip sides of a coin, two polar opposite men that I was going back and forth between. So that conflict represented light: a relationship I was in most ways absolutely happy and carefree about, except that it doesn’t offer me a future I’d originally expected of myself; and dark: a problematic painful relationship that did offer me the traditional future. Neither is ideal and the conflict comes from my internal current conflict regarding what kind of future I can live with and what I’m willing to sacrifice. The dinner party is my fear that if I leave the current relationship, there will be no good guys on the market that I’d want to date, which is also a very real fear in my head.

I eventually fell back asleep after 5am and dreamt that I was being sent off with some friends to boot camp, apparently having enlisted and been accepted into some branch of the armed forces. My parents gave me a warm send-off. My mother, to my surprise, wasn’t heart-broken and was rather jovial about it. As I stepped onto the bus, I was very aware that I really didn’t want to go, and I asked a friend behind me in the bus line whether it’s possible to drop out after boot camp. She was dubious about that. And then I woke up again. I wonder what THAT dream meant. That I should do what I want and not worry about my parents, they’ll be fine? But I hadn’t WANTED to enlist.