End of week two. Since starting, I’ve had 2 Pilates sessions, 3 Personal Training, 5 cardio sessions, in total.
And one sore butt.
I’m thrilled beyond belief. The pain means I’m getting stronger. One step closer to better health. One step closer to better bikini shape.(What? You think it’s just about better health? Seriously?)
So I worked out with Erin from Modern Pilates on Monday. It was awesome experience, and due to a snafu I couldn’t work out with Robin on Wednesday, but it did gave me the chance to work out with Kyle, one of the personal trainers from Bodyscapes Fitness.
My workouts with Erin and Kyle really show how different trainers can be. Erin to Robin and Kyle to Laura (my usual personal trainer on Friday) all their styles are each different and unique. One thing IS constant, and that is the emphasis on form. All four is stress good form whether it’s on the reformer (a standard pilates equipement) or doing sit-ups on an exercise ball.
As far as eating, I’m the Clean Detox diet chica- but I’ve had to take a step back from being 100%. I’ve had to take some super hard-core antibiotics for my rosacea. As a result it’s pretty much killed off my gut bugs, a corner-stone for good health. I have to stop taking the antibiotics, and take probiotics to grow the good bugs back. But stuff happens. I’m watching the amount I eat, but I’ve included some previously verboten wheat, caffeine, sugar, soy and sweeteners in my meals. Now that I type this I can say, honestly and bluntly, I’ve taken some advantage of the situation. Tonight I had a half an almond butter and strawberry jam sandwich and some ice tea. Not what I want, and not the best for me. Wheat, caffeine and sugar. Oh my!
My plan is to stop the antibiotics tomorrow, so I’ll be back on the Clean again: mostly smoothies for breakfast and dinner, lunch of salad or brown-rice wraps with grilled chicken, and small snacks of almonds. I say mostly as I’m headed into a major US holiday weekend, full of BBQ’s and I can’t control everything that is being served. Just try you best, and when all else fails, portion control it baby.
So it’s the end of week two, now for the measuremnets… let’s see if there’s been any progress, shall we?
So as of 5/28/10 :
Total inches lost: 6.5″
Sweet! Perhaps my big butt days are numbered…
If you need to get up to-date on the 90 day health challenge I’m doing, you can read all about it HERE.
Check out my partners in the Go Betsy Go! 90 Day Challenge:
It’s being called the “a social network for kids with training wheels.”
In private beta until recently, Togetherville aims to be the safe social media alternative for kids 6-10. Kids can befriend other children (and adults chosen by their parents) from their parents FaceBook friend list. They can create art, play games, watch and share videos all in a semiprivate environment, everything is vetted prior. Comments are limited to a pull-down menu of preselected phrases, though a user can request additional phrases to be added.
Started by Mandeep Singh Dhillon, he created Togetherville because his son was interested in sharing pictures online with the family.
According to The New York Times, “Mr. Dhillon said this type of interaction helps children develop social skills that they can’t get from virtual worlds like Club Penguin, which protect children by having them act only through anonymous avatars.
We teach kids from a very early age, never let your identity be online, never let anyone know who you are, but we’re teaching some bad things,” he said. “Kids don’t learn how to be accountable.””
No ads, but revenue will be derived from children share virtual “gifts,” which are purchased through their parents.
Advising Mr. Dhillon is the CEO of the Family Online Safety Institute, Stephen Balkam. According to The New York Times, Mr. Balkam “said that he thought the site could keep younger children off Facebook, where they are more likely to find inappropriate content and are less protected from potentially harmful interactions with strangers or bullies.”
Why should kids 6-10 be on a social network in the first place?
If my kids wanted to share pictures with the family, they can. Through me. Via email.
Children age 6-10 don’t need an identity online. They’re not ready for that. Even with “training wheels.” When do you need to teach them accountability? When you get them a cell phone, when they start to ask about chatting online. Then you need to have the online safety and privacy chat. And you keep having the chat.
I know I’m more conservative than most when it comes online privacy, especially with my children, but for GODSAKES, this venture is so wrong on so very many levels. At best they are exploiting kids with a not-so-very-social sanitized experience, friending kids of their parent’s friends. (I mean did you ever want to be friends with your parent’s friends kids? Seriously?) At worst they are pushing kids to be hooked even earlier to social media, online gaming and artificial socializing.
Excuse me, but my idea of being social at eight is to play hide & seek, not spending hours playing on a computer, super neat-o virtual gifts aside.
Plus, whose “vetting” these interactions on Togetherville? Not me. To me, this is one more thing I have to negotiate, monitor, and fight over with my children. And for full disclosure, we have a Club Penguin account. It’s cute, and it’s used as a treat for the kids. Just like the Wii. My 7 year olds play the little games on it, but there’s not much “interaction.” And that is not a bad thing.
Young kids don’t need to be introduce to social media. Children are developing their social skills and they don’t need to formulate them from pull-down menus and “vetted” artwork. They need to learn it on the playgrounds, playing baseball on a real field with real “in the flesh” friends.
It would seem that Togetherville, though may have been started with all the good intentions, is just one more electronic distraction trying to separating kids from their childhood.
But that’s just my opinion.
As you all know I’m doing a 90-day challenge with Modern Pilates and Bodyscapes Fitness in Hingham, MA.
And Friday’s post is being done on Monday.
The kinks are being worked out.
I just wanted to let you know how the first week went.
As I said its a few kinks had to be worked out- a pilates session rescheduled because yours truly had a scheduling conflict, and I’ve being 5-10 mins late tardy because Baby Lug decides he’s not quite on board with the program. Le sigh.
The pluses are many- I feel taller and my muscles feel warm and worked. My coaches are awesome thus far: Robin (pilates) and Laura (personal training.) I think I have a fairly good chance of kicking some serious butt! (and get one in the process) Hooray!
I also had my measurements were taken. My goal is to not drop lbs. necessarily, but lose inches and fit into my clothes better (drop a few sizes would be good.) So without further adieu, here’s the dirty deets…
As of 5/23/10 :
You can read more on Modern Pilate’s owner Lisa Johnson’s fab fitness blog, LisaJohnsonFitness. On Monday, she’s going to be laying down the expectations for LeBetsy and I’ll be summing up the experience on Friday.
I’m in trouble.
I ate cake that was verbotten.
My kids are punishing me.
And I made them do it.
Here’s the story morning glories: The twins just had seperate birthdays (one horse themed, other was Star Wars, so you can see how this is a good thing.) Seperate birthdays means… seperate cakes. My son a vanilla Star Wars cake with its’ white frosting airbrushed (?) colors, my daughter’s a vanilla/chocolate ice cream cake from a fabulous purveyour of iced fatty delights known as Nona’s Ice Cream in Hingham, MA. We’re talking heavenly stuff here my friends.
So all the copious extras were cut-up, and frozen for treats later.
But not much later.
All I can say was they were winking at me. I thawed out some cake for my family, but snacked on it until … it was almost gone. Whoops.
And off I went my merry way.
So back from yoga I bounded into my sweet family eating dinner… and was totally and completely busted. By my husband. My daughter. My son(s).
“Mom YOU ate the cake!”
I was caught dead to rights. I ‘fessed up.
Then I told them I, having broken the rules, that I should be punished.
(Now the looks on their faces at this were priceless, but I had done wrong and why should I be above following family rules? You lead by example in both good and bad I say. You do the crime, you do the time.)
My son’s first idea “No computer for a week!”
Umm, that’s going to happen kid. Try again.
I can do Drudge, news, my Google reader (oh, Prez Hilton on RSS? Ahh no) but no straight-up gossip.
It was fair, and I’m handling it. Gossip is the yin to my more tech/cerebral yang- I use it as a mental palate cleanser. So as my natural instinct says, check out FT.com…. then hit Cocoprez.com I have to skip the last and go read up on Brian Solis’ PR 2.0 or Springwise.
All I can say is Thank goodness TheCoolHunter is still not off-limits.
My sentence ends Friday.*
*As in week, I’m thinking work week, not 7 days. That’d be just cruel.
Some of you might know my canine-kimosabe, Ginger.
Ginger-girl is a Golden Retriever of the finest caliber. Affectionate, loyal, she’s the reason why there are bumper stickers that say “Be the person your dog thinks you are.”
Picked up at the breeder when I was pregnant (by days) with the twins, Ginger was my prego-partner and exercise coach, because if it’s 32F out and the dog is due for a walk, you walk! Never mind that you’re 6 mos pregnant with twins and every time you cough you pee.
True story- during the era known as “Bennifer,” I, sick with a cold, had a coughing fit at the church near our Brookline, MA condo during a funeral. Surrounded by black-clothed mourners, myself included but of the horrendous maternity variety, I coughed so hard I totally peed. In front of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez. Thank god black hides everything, and I was wearing a long coat. I guess Ben’s great-uncle had died and Bennifer made it to the funeral. Of course, armed with a really cute puppy, everyone wanted to pet Ginger, who is a total harlot for attention. I think we even made it into Star Magazine: Beniffer, Ginger and… me, having wet my pants. Good times.
So Ginger is famous. Not only to the supermarket-tabloids, but also with every job my hubby could take a dog to. She thinks she’s a person –and a very sociable one at that– so she’ll visit every single person in the office. All must pet. All must love. All must adore. You’ll get nudged if you don’t.
Today, to my delight, was a YouTube video of Ginger’s doppelganger- doing “Breakfast at Ginger’s.” What is a responsible, dog-loving owner of a Ginger to do?
Warning- I think it’s canned laughter, while it’s cute, it isn’t THAT funny. Also, for full-disclosure, I would never subject my dog to something like this, but I’m not above capitalizing on others that do…
AND I do like the “I’d rather be Blitzing” mug. Nice touch.
You see them on the red carpet.
It could be Gwyneth, Sandra, or Scarlett. Julia, Angela or Jennifer.
Rockin’ the paparazzi with totally rockin’ bodies.
They have their own personal Glam Squads backing them up- world-famous stylists, hairdressers, nutritionist and personal trainers making sure everything is tight, gorgeous and camera ready.
Often I wonder, in my life-stained gap t-shirt, gazing at UsWeekly, what would happen if I had access to that kind of support. In my past I worked in and on films, and you’d be amazed at what would come in for reading and, given 3 months of intense work-out regime, what would saunters on the set and on the red-carpet. A lot can happen in that 90 day period. A lot.
And now I’m going to find out. First-hand.
I’ve been challenged by a Boston Pilates studio and Gym that moved in recently to my area.
For 3 months, 90 days, I’m going to work my ass off. Literally.
I’ve been tweeting and FB about it- A month or two ago, I was approached by Lisa Johnson, owner of Modern Pilates, a well-established pilates studio with locations around Boston, to do a 90-day workout challenge. She, along with Bodyscapes Fitness, recently moved into The Launch at Hingham Shipyard, and wanted to do some advertising with a local blogger. Together we came up with 90 day challenge.
The challenge is for 90 Days TheBetsy committed to:
Personally, I’m getting the better end of this deal. Sure they get press and good will, but honestly I’m getting the higher ROI- bikini ready and improved health. As you may know, bettering my health is a priority, and any improvement in that department is welcomed.
We start this week. Keep on the look out for my posts on my progress.
I can’t wait to see what 90 days can do for a girl.
I’ve been light on the posting this week.
Side note: Actually, I’ve written quite a few posts, but I had to put them on hold. I’m waiting for a few confirmations etc. on my next, and very cool, big project for TheLiquidBetsy. The 90 day challenge by Modern Pilates and Bodyscapes Fitness, I’m trying to bring in a few more elements, a charity component especially. Things are looking good but nothing is firm yet. So stay tuned for that…
Meanwhile, back at the ranch… my dear husband’s grandmother passed away.
98 years old, she had lived a wonderfully full life complete with children, grand- and great-grandchildren. Although he (and I) are sad that she’s left, we cannot be distraught. She left peacefully and, really, we should all be so lucky. She (and we) were blessed.
I was most concerned with Great-grandma Del’s passing was it’s affect on my children. They’ve seen death, wakes and funerals but it always with other people’s grandparents. Not their own. And my daughter, The Toaster, was especially close. I wanted to make sure they got through this ok.
And so far, it’s been better than OK. They had a few questions, and Mr. Man said he’d miss her, but both point-blank told me it was part of life… just like with Cody.
Ahh… Cody. Our dog that we had to put to sleep a couple of years ago. Potentially 14 years old (who knew? he was pound-procured) Cody was joy of a dog. A black furry Keeshond he was probably one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever had to pleasure to pet. Ridiculously smart. But like all things he grew old and started to deteriorate: failing eyesight, arthritis, constant pain.
A few years ago we made the very tough decision to put him down.
The twins were pre-school age and we did our best to explain the cycle of life and that Cody was now in a much happier place, chasing all the dogs and “Squirrel!” he wants in heaven. They were sad and even to this day The Toaster has a picture of Cody framed in her room.
He was a really good dog.
But now it’s Great-grandma Del. The twins are older, and they saw her fragility first hand. She was parchment to their bouncing rubber. She was tired a lot, had to be helped to walk, carried a very cool cane.
It would seem that my eldest children’s experience with Cody has softened the blow of losing their great-grandma Del. He helped give them a very good perspective, helped them deal with the grief better, and I thank him for this one last gift.
(and I am totally tearing up as I type this folks)
Again…he was a very, very good dog.
Personal growth comes in fits and starts.
Some of you are born audacious. Some are born with balls. Both real and metaphysical.
Others have to grow a pair.
I unfortunately have “selective” ones. When it comes to my family I’m fine. I can set limits without so much as a blink.
Even with others I can be direct- in business situations. But when it comes to the murky waters of pure social interaction–especially when you throw kids into the mix—I often find myself lacking.
You know, social rites and requirements. The “high school” of life. These are the hardest for me.
Sometimes when I’m confronted or having a disagreement, especially when it’s unexpected, I seem to forget to pack the big pair. I admire those whose first instinct is to fire back with both barrels. I default on to not making too many waves. It also doesn’t help that I am the one that can see the issue from all sides. Great for marketing, product creation but not so great in a disagreement with a friend. In these scenarios I need time to digest, analyze, reformat.
Here’s my modus operandi. Play fair. Be nice. Be upfront. Be liked. By everyone.
To a fault.
I know, I know, I can even hear my mother’s voice,circa 1987, “You can’t be everyone’s friend, nor do you want to.” Call me crazy, but I will try really hard to be liked. Sometimes too much. Sometimes to my own detriment.
And that’s the problem. You can’t always be liked. Sometimes it cannot be helped. Sometimes friendships are destroyed and it happens. It’s hard for me to accept.
Buddhist followers say you play the same metaphysical storyline until you learn.
So I’m ready to change my story. Be more direct. Set limits and commit to them. Accept the fallout, however uncomfortable it might be.
Take a deep breath.
Time for a re-write.
I must not be the only one that feels this way.
“You can’t cure stupid”- Dr. Cat, life-long friend and knower of where all the bodies are buried.
I love this phrase.
Straight to the point. Right on the mark. Bulls-eye. (Also all great)
Dr. Cat, besides being one of my closest friends and God-mother to Baby Lug, is one of the finest diagnosticians working, IMHO. She works at a rural New England hospital and the stories she shares are eye-opening. So often she and her colleagues comes up against the worst symptom– stupidity– they coined the phrase “You can’t cure stupid.”
And, you know what, it’s true.
You can help, inform, teach, prescribe, order, ticket, punish but in the end it’s about individual free will. The 6oolb person, dieting to save their lives, upset they’re not losing more weight since they’ve cut back on their 2nd liter of Coke for breakfast. Or one so freaked out about lumps they refuse to go to the doctor until the fire department has to breakdown the door to take them to the hospital.
Look, I write a lot about improving. Life. Health. Thought. But if someone is hell-bound to keep on keepin’ on the path of self-destruction then what can anyone do?
“Time to smarten up.” – Your Dad.
Another great phrase. Sometimes we have to hit rock bottom before we are willing to stop being stupid. I did, at least with my health. And believe you me, that is a daily work in progress. We’re all stupid about something. We’re all (metaphorically) the 600lb person on something. I’m not implying you, or I for that matter, are in dire way, but we all aren’t perfect either.
I guess we all have to look at what we do on a daily basis and ask ”Am I being stupid” here? This could apply to health, relationships, money, etc. Probably something you don’t want to ask yourself. You know what I’m talking about. It’s there. Festering and sapping your energy in one way or another- physically or mentally.
Can you cure it? Get the help you need? Slow things down? Talk to someone? Write it down? Walk it out? Pick a wiser choice? Turn yourself around?
Only you can cure your own stupidity.
“Stupid is as stupid does.” – Forrest Gump.
One of my favorite stories of my Dad’s is about his time in Vietnam. It involves a duck. A boa-constrictor. Oh, and a few observations.
Around April 1967, my father was a Naval dentist, attached to the Marines, stationed in KhanSan. He’d fixed teeth, do occasional triage, even kept one man alive in a foxhole for three days with nothing but a dental kit. Always, right before patrols were about to go out, there’d be a spike in emergency tooth-aches. The hardest part, for the medical teams, was to tell these boys that they were fine and ship’em off, some never to return.
So much death, you understand why MASH (the movie, not really the show) could possibly exist. Anything to break the tension, take your mind off the potentials, help alleviate the stress of the daily.
One day, after two day patrol, a Marine Recon patrol comes back, bearing what could only be described “the biggest mother-fucking snake” ever seen. Like anaconda size big.
This motley group of 6 or 7 fatigued teens, proudly hoisted their prize, as they should. Again, according to Dad, it was one big snake.
And it was their unit’s new mascot.
Housing such a magnificent creature was the Unit’s focus for the next day or two. Bamboo cut, cage crafted. And to feed it, not a problem. This was Vietnam, so procuring a edible creature or two wasn’t much of a stretch.
Enter the duck.
It was a big duck, duck-wise, but compared to the snake? No contest.
Probably unceremoniously shoved into the snake’s lair, someone leashed the duck so it couldn’t fly around and elude being dinner for the prized mammoth snake.
And everybody went to bed, congratulating themselves on their new mascot, one huge mean-looking mother-fucking snake.
Next morning: Duck alive. Huge-ass snake? Dead.
It seems the snake was pecked to death by the duck.
Of course you know where this is headed…
The Duck became the unit’s new mascot. While they had lost the huge, they figured they more than made it up by gaining the meanest mother-fucking Duck in all of Vietnam.
(I actually spent a good amount of time looking for the banner/badge/patch of this company. I couldn’t find it. Not even a picture or story. Know anyone who might? Please forward and have them contact me. My dad only had a Super-8 of the snake. Go figure.)
The Take-aways? Here’s what we can learn from the Meanest Duck episode:
So there it is. Don’t assume. Be the one that refuses to stay down. Size isn’t a factor. Embrace Change.
Remember The Meanest Duck in Vietnam.