Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

Since January 1, I've cooked each evening except one, and that night was a "everyone is on his/her own night." Each evening, I worked to include herbs and spices, and each meal save one was given the thumbs up. The save one meal didn't get a thumbs down; it received a sideways thumb, and I think that was because I didn't get the black beans pureed the way they needed to be for the black bean soup to be creamy. I tried to puree the beans while they were too hot, and well, putting hot food into a blender then turning it on just isn't a good idea. Even though I was pressing down on the lid to prevent it launching to the ceiling, it still popped off. Black beans spewed everywhere. As if the first try wasn't enough, I made a second attempt. Yeah, not a smart move. The lid took off like a rocket, allowing black beans to splatter across cabinet doors, my sweatshirt, this computer, and my exposed wrist, which burned and now sports a nice red welt. It was carnage. ...

One week ago today I stepped onto a scale. I had no choice because if I had, I certainly wouldn't have done something that makes me so incredibly disappointed in myself. I loathe weighing myself. I have ever since I was a kid. Once a person is labeled "chubby," "chunky," "pudgy," "fat," and my personal favorite, "thick," anything directly connected to making that label seem even remotely accurate is avoided. So I began avoiding the scale, at like age eight. When I was 10, we had to be weighed in the classroom, in front of all the others. At the time, I was around five feet one inch (I truly thought I was destined to be six feet tall as I was a head taller than all the other girls in the class), and I distinctly remember weighing in at 106 pounds. I also distinctly remember my teacher, who I thought was absolutely the most beautiful woman I had ever met in my short life, smiling at me and nodding, not saying my weight out loud like s...

My little bonk the other day made me re-evaluate a couple of things: my workout schedule and my eating patterns. I thought I had the workout schedule figured out in such a way that it would fit nicely with my work schedule. The working out in the evening followed by a workout early the next morning, though, just isn't the best plan. In addition, I was only eating the usual three meals a day. With the increase in energy expenditure, I need to eat more and more often. I was still going by my 1500 calories a day, which is okay if I'm not doing a whole lot. Most days, however, I'm using around 500 or 600 additional calories, meaning I'm really only getting anywhere from 900-1000 calories a day. My body is saying, "JK, stop being a knucklehead! Eat, damnitall, eat." I ended up taking Thursday off. I wasn't physically tired after work, but I was sleepy tired. I went to bed early that night to try to make up for recent lost sleep. Thursday was also my first day...