Scale this morning read 168.4! Down 8.2 pounds! I'm exhausted and sore, but ecstatic about the weight loss! I NEVER want to hit the 170's again....EVER. It makes me feel so good to know that this Method is WORKING. I am 100% a believer and 1000% committed. (That kinda sounds like a stalker or some insane cult member, but, hey, label me whatever, just not a BIG GIRL anymore!!)
On the organizing front, I managed to get the master bedroom cleaned up, dusted and vacuumed. Today will be the challenge of the guest bedroom!
My workout at the end of Day 3 was delayed until after 10pm--- big mistake. It also coincided with a breakdown of our HVAC system and my itty bitty TAM heater wasn't providing a whole lot of warmth in our house! It was like 50 degrees inside--- so, I bundled up in about 6 layers (winter hat included), lay out my mat and decided that the only way I would get through the workout was to put on my favorite TV show of late, REVENGE. If you haven't seen the show, Emily VanCamp stars as a trust fund baby out for some serious paybacks after the Hamptons society set screwed her Dad over....The ultra-rich clique (including his married lover, brilliantly played by Madeleine Stowe) frame him as the mastermind behind a 9/11 type terrorist crime-- ultimately sending him to prison where he was later murdered. Girlfriend is pissed. She is also rocking a seriously hot Tracy Anderson body! (Not sure if she does the method, but she could be a TAM poster girl.)
Anyhoo, I digress....I know Tracy says not to do any kind of "distracting" activity while you workout, thus disturbing your mind/body connection, but a distraction from the cold and the late hour was exactly what I needed to get through it!
So, I made it through 30 reps of MS with the help of some deliciously fabulous plot twists and turns in the Hamptons...Then, I put on some Housewives of Beverly Hills while I half-assed 20 minutes of cardio, watching the vapid, silicone enhanced ladies of BH get majorly catty. Seeing the new housewife Brandy in a bikini was enough for me to pick up the pace a bit! It wasn't my finest workout, but I got it in....It was after midnight when I did my last dance cardio move.
Yesterday, blueberries with a bit of coconut milk started my day...Then I grilled chicken with veggies for the Protein soup. I was low on stock, so it was more of a Protein UN-soup, but delicious nevertheless. I got so busy, I didn't even have the kiwi snack.
I got in 40 minutes of cardio and 35 reps which were killer. I am so sore! And not in the, "OOH, I can really feel it today," kind of sore....it's the "FUCK. I can't lift my arm to open the damn cupboard!" kind of sore! My dog Clyde stood on my mat as I pushed through the MS work and I ended up using him as a stabilizer to help lift my leg up! Not exactly the kind of "performance"
that Tracy demands, but it was the best I could do.
So, I went in for my second training shift at the bar and made some minor mistakes-- ringing in a chardonnay incorrectly, using the wrong glass for a rum&coke, not asking for a credit card as soon as I put down drinks, etc...nothing egregious, but 3 hours in, the salty old broad who is the bar manager pulled me aside, handed me $50 and said, "Sorry, Parker, you're not picking this up fast enough. It's not working out." I was stunned. She didn't even let me finish the damn training shift. I had to leave right then and there. You would have thought I'd just been caught raiding the register.
The whole vibe was off from the start of the shift. The woman who had been training me is 32, (looks about 45) and overslept, so she was a bitch on wheels when she came in. I could tell she was getting frustrated with me and I have the sneaking suspicion that she was the reason behind my departure. As I was fumbling for my keys on the way out, I heard her say to the manager, "You made the right decision." WTF??!
These are the moments when my former "ego" is scratching and clawing inside, wanting to scream, "Sorry if I'm not a chain-smoking bar hag with 20 miles of bad road on me, you nasty, mean toad!" I mean, for F*** sake, I used to be doing the news on the damn TV channel they have on in the freaking bar!!!! (They don't know that.) It seems like the ultimate fall from grace-- former glam TV reporter slinging drinks at dive bar. Awesome.
The truth is, I've been so beaten down by not working and not finding a "real job" that I think my desperation has overtaken my confidence. I collapsed in a pile of tears walking out. Having to come home to JP and tell him I got fired from a cocktail waitressing job was more than I could bear. Especially when I got a text from him saying, "So proud of you baby for working hard and making it happen." I feel like such shit. It's a good thing he drank all the wine we had in the house, because I would have been guzzling from the bottle lastnight. No such luck.
So, it's a new day. My weight is down, but my bank account is in arrears and I am seriously stressed. I thought I would go into the bar when the manager comes in tonight and ask for a second chance (I still don't understand what caused the abrupt decision), as much as it pains me to swallow my pride and beg for the job back. If the money wasn't so good there, I wouldn't bother, but I'm going to be totally screwed come Monday, if I find out I don't get hired for the NPR radio gig I'm up for. My grand plan was to do both jobs to save some serious kwan.
It's almost noon and I haven't even had my half a grapefruit yet. Yawn, groan. I just want to crawl into bed and wake up when I'm 145 pounds, gainfully employed and have $15K in the bank.
They say success is the best revenge...Well, folks, I'm looking for it-- and ready to serve it up hot, cold or poached, TAM style.