Does your work chair hurt your butt?

I sit at my desk today looking at the sunny, but sticky, weather outside. Silently, I’m planning my escape.

Sitting at a desk all day can be quite numbing. If you don’t get up once in awhile, you start to look and talk like a mindless zombie. And I hate zombies, lets not even go there.

I used to take about an hour every day for lunch to get out of the office. The human interaction accompanied with the outside world of sights and smells stimulating my senses is much needed after sometimes three to four hours of office silence. It’s good for a person to see things moving around during the day; and I’m talking about things that are not on your computer screen. A person’s eyes need to be constantly entertained, a feat not even the most compelling sand games can achieve at times.

Often times, and I am guilty of this too, people will get so wrapped up in a project or work crisis that they end up just sitting at their computer all day and not getting up once, or at least, not unless they need to use the john.

According to a survey by the American Dietetic Association, a majority of Americans eat lunch (67 percent) and snack throughout the day (61 percent) at their desks. Apparently, office demands are winning out over dining ambience for the small percentage (10 percent of men, seven percent of women) that dine desktop for dinner, as well.

I mean, really? Take your lunch outside people. Eat dinner with your family. Work will never be more important to me than sharing a meal with someone I love. Think about it. We Americans eat, sleep and work. That’s about it. Since we don’t really have many options of where we work at or where we sleep (for the most part), shouldn’t we take full advantage of our option of where to eat!?
Don't be Dilbertized.
In that same survey, one of 12 Americans say the chair they sit in at work "hurts my butt." Use your lunch as an opportunity to get out of it.

Find some comfort people. Your tummies, minds, and butts will thank you for it.

Going to heed my own advice,
Bridget Marie

A sick day is hard to come by.

I’ve officially been at my job for one year. YAY. Twelve months, two dogs, an apartment, one house, no sick days, five vet runs, one personal day off, eight clients and countless special events later, I still stand to tell the tale. Did you hear that? I said NO SICK DAYS. Since when have any of you ever known me to not have a sick day for a whole year?? Never. That’s when. I would have received the superlative for “Most likely to die from a mysterious incurable ailment” in high school, if there were such a thing. I didn’t exactly have perfect attendance in school, yall, and I’m proud of that. There was a time when diseases didn’t have to look for me – I found them! I learned the lesson at an early age that flu-like symptoms = day off of school, and it’s the lesson that is a gift that keeps on giving.

So I ask myself, what is the real reason for this SUDDEN strength in my immune system?? My cookies and milk diet went strong for a year – so I certainly wasn’t eating healthy. The entire time I lived in my apartment, I don’t think I perspired even once – it’s not because I was working out. Perhaps it’s the little thing called r.e.s.p.o.n.s.i.b.i.l.i.t.y. Well, I don’t like it one little bit. In fact, if responsibility were an emoticon, I think it’d be the one with little red devil horns and evil grin.

"Hello. My name is RESPONSIBILITY. May I offer you a glass of QUIT-YOUR-WHINING?"

Here’s to year TWO!
Bridget Marie


This post was scheduled for publication on 5/22/09 at 5:00 PM. If you'd like to view it in it's entirety, please visit numbersnotinvited.blogspot.com.

Still last...

Monday boot camp was brutal. The hardest day yet. Instead of running to the Federal Hill, we ran to the sand volleyball courts near the harbor (approximately an additional .25 miles added to the "getting there" run). If you've ever seen the rhino stampede from the movie, Jumanji, I'm like the last rhino jogging in the back of the group, grunting:


Next, we proceeded to run suicide sprints in the sand until my legs fell off. A new addition to the workout that I really enjoyed *sarcasm* was the "Bear Crawl" = crawl like a bear in the sand forward for 200 meters. Talk about aching wrists.
Bear Crawl:

(Of course, I don't do it as fast as THIS kid!)

More updates to come tomorrow, I'm sure. That is, unless I die at boot camp...
Needing a portable oxygen tank,
Bridget Marie

Am I expected to run on the days I don't have boot camp??!

I've been away because, quite frankly, there's not much to say. I'm in pain. My {insert any and all body parts here} hurts. Wednesday's boot camp was tough. However, I was in much better emotional shape to take the beating than on Monday (when I was so nervous and anxious). Tomorrow will mark day three of Suffer Camp.

Weigh-in update from Wednesday: 124.5 lbs.
I'll just post my food from yesterday, since today's list looks too pathetic (I had chicken for lunch, ew):















Someone had a question about what website I am using as a food diary. I am using FitDay as a food diary and to track my fat intake. Not caloric intake. My goal is to eat better foods. And with the cool pie chart from FitDay, I can easily see how much of my daily food intake is fat, carbohydrates, and protein.


Looking at that pie chart kind of makes me want to eat a pie,
Bridget Marie

It's never easy.

So here I am setting goals. Trying to eat well (as in not my normal cookies-for-dinner regime). And then comes along Becky and Jay. I make a goal not to eat anything after 8 p.m. At 8:30 p.m. last night, Jay decides he will cook Paula Deen breakfast sausage (my favorite!) and thick-sliced bacon on the griddle in preparation for breakfast the next morning. Of course, they're nibbling on it all the while - and then Becky tastes it too.
My mouth was watering.
But. I stuck to my guns, people.
Sure, I could have had a bite. But if I give in on this goal - what's to stop me from giving in on the next goal - or maybe just not going to boot camp anymore all together! I had to stay strong.
I broke just over 1,000 calories yesterday. Most days - I barely break 800.




It's never easy,
Bridget Marie

There’s really no one on the road at 5 a.m.

This morning, I started boot camp. We were to meet at 6 a.m. so since it was the first day, I left my house an hour early so I’d have time to put my things in the locker room before beginning. I arrived at approximately 5:20 a.m.

Firstly, there are about ten other people in the boot camp with me. My goal coming into this was one thing: don’t be last. Thinking back now, maybe that was an unrealistic goal. Yes, I wish I could tell you I didn’t walk. I did. I wish I could tell you I wasn’t last. I was. Worse than that: I was lapped. A few times.

Here is a picture of Federal Hill (from across the harbor). It's steeper than it looks.

We ran up the hill, around the hill, up the stairs and down the stairs – a lot. Then, we continued to do squats, squat jumps, push-ups, frog leaps, up-and-downs, tricep dips and lunges until I couldn’t really move anymore. I spent most of my mental time focusing on not hurling. I did four years of track & field, four years of basketball and eight years of volleyball – and never once did I throw up at practice. I was never one to throw up after a hard run or workout. Today, I wanted to.

I joke around a lot about working out, eating bad and what this boot camp will do to me. But while I was suffering through the pain this morning on our “jog”, I had a lot of time to think. The first time someone lapped me, I had a realization. I’m not here to beat anyone else. I’m here to beat myself.

After it was over, my competitive brain kept telling me “you could have done better than that.” But my body told me, “trust me, you could not have done better; you gave it your all.” And I know I did the best I could – maybe my best was last – but my heart rate hasn’t accelerated that fast in over a year and a half, I’m taking steps toward a better life and a better diet – and that’s what’s important to me.

Now that I’m re-evaluating the experience, I have set some new, hopefully realistic goals:
1. No eating after 8 p.m. because when I do eat after 8 p.m., 99% of the time, it’s cookies. Not just one cookie either. Eight cookies.
2. Don’t stop, don’t walk. I may be last, but hopefully, I’ll at least be running still.

Looking ahead, today and tomorrow are days of rest. Reese says it will only get harder, but that “your bodies will get used to it.” He said this to the group and I started laughing. No one else laughed. Awkkwwaarrdd…

One down, 12? To go,
Bridget Marie

My life as a doctor

When I get sick, Google can usually diagnose my illness 4 out of 5 times. If the Internet doesn’t give me a definite answer on what is wrong, I’m most likely to adopt the latest ailment featured on House. Yes. I’m one of those people. Still, “hypochondriac” is such a harsh word, and nobody likes to be labeled…especially hypochondriacs. I digress.

A few big “scares” from throughout the years stand out in my mind that I insisted, at the time, I was infected with. Bird flu, Mad Cow disease, West Nile, SARS…at some point, I was convinced I had symptoms for each that were slowly, but surely, killing me.

It gets even worse when I act (and diagnose) on behalf of my two small dogs. Moses has an itch? It’s probably scabies. Merlot threw up? The poor thing’s been poisoned! Okay, maybe both of those diagnoses are a little dramatic (even though I actually made both of them in real life). Do I have any professional medical experience, you ask? Pish, posh. I speak (and diagnose) from LIFE experience.

I may be a little focused on what I could catch and what could happen, but contrary to popular belief, I’m no pill popper(*). I diagnose. I don’t prescribe. I may think I’m dying here and there once in a while, but I stick to the one revolutionary medical solution that works…Tylenol. I’m like Gus Portokalos, in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. If I have an ailment of some kind, I just spray Windex on it until it heals. My Windex, however, is Tylenol.
Got a headache? Pop a Tylenol. Cramps? Tylenol. Acne? Tylenol. It’s the universal cure. The trick is to vary the dose in regards to how serious the ailment. For a migraine, I’ve been known to take up to five 200mg Tylenols. However, waking up with a neck-crick only warrants one. The bottle says not to exceed six in 24 hours. I try to stick to that advice, but really it’s just the manufacturer’s opinion of quality from a dosage. Well, quantity over quality, I always say.

Looking back, I’m just glad I took enough Tylenol to survive the years of infections and illnesses. I do, however, think I may have to call out of work soon due to a bad case of Swine Flu.

…Another good thing about Tylenol: you don’t need a prescription.

Doctor Bridget signing out.

(*) Over the counter medications don’t count.
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The fence conversation.

So, Jay and I have been living in the house for almost a month now - wow time certainly flies. And still, we have no fence for our yard.

Last night, I started the conversation about getting one. He said he has no idea what kind of fence he wants to get.

So I said, "Okay, in a perfect world, with absolutely no budget, what kind of fence would you want then?"

Jay emphatically replies, "Easy. A moat."

...

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. We'll have a moat.

I wonder if we'll have to spring for a bridge connecting to the front porch, or if one just comes with it?

Canoeing the trench,
Bridget Marie

A dachshund with a banana problem

I was out of the house Saturday morning. I guess Jay was getting bored, so he gave Merlot a banana to see what she would do. Later, he told me that she absolutely loved it.

Around noon, I came home to this:
When Merlot wants something, she stares at it and cries NONSTOP. Truly, she does not take a break. She just stares at it and whimpers until we ultimately give in and give her what she wants (we're going to be awful parents!). Well, I came home to her staring at the bananas and crrryyyiiinnggg. A few hours passed, and she did not move or cease her crying. Jay and I decided to take Moses, leave Merlot and go outside on the deck and grill dinner. I checked in with her about every half hour or so, and she had not moved (you'd think she'd be getting a crick in her neck!). She also had not stopped crying (it actually just got louder, we could hear it from outside!).

Five hours later, I decided it was getting kind of ridiculous, so I hid the bananas off the shelf to where she couldn't see them. Later, I found her sitting, staring and crying the SAME WAY at my Swiffer duster sitting on the ottoman! The Swiffer duster handle is yellow. It kind of looks like a banana (the part she could see anyway)...
And I thought dogs only saw in black and white!?

*Sigh*

Whoever heard of a dachshund obsessed with bananas?

I blame Jay.






xo,
Bridget Marie

I never had a Monster before.

I had my first Monster energy drink on Saturday. I never had a Monster before. Wow, what a ride. I ended up staying up all night until 5 AM bouncing off the walls.

I felt like this:



"You ever had a Red Bull? Ive never had a Red Bull before, but I had a Red Bull last night - I really like Red Bull."



I like Monster,
Bridget Marie

Boot camp will probably kill me.

Keeping the hope alive,
Bridget Marie

Recycling Shmeshmycling

I have never really recycled before. *shocking gasp from audience* *shameful bow of head* Before I moved to Maryland, I never really even knew what recycling was. Growing up, we never recycled. Through high school, we didn’t, and to this day – my parents still don’t recycle. *little old lady in audience shakes finger at mom and dad “tisk, tisk!”* I guess they were just part of a generation that never knew about global warming.

I hate to say this, but a certain generation, *COUGH*babyboomers*COUGH*, other than talking back to the government, didn’t do a whole lot for good ole’ Planet Earth. Smoking weed doesn’t exactly count as “going green”.

Still, this is not a bashing. We’ve learned from our predecessors, and certainly my own green efforts are a work in progress to this day. On a scale from “One” to “I-destroy-the-earth-on-a-daily-basis,” I’d say I’m right around “E for effort.” When I lived in my apartment, for an entire year, I never turned on my air conditioning to save energy. And. It. Got. Hot.

Now living in a house, Jay and I have decided to begin recycling. For the first time in my life, I’m recycling! You would think that would make the relationship better, but hilariously, now we just fight about what IS and is NOT recyclable!! Paper towels? I say, “paper in the name = throw it in the bin!” Ziploc baggies? Duh! They’re plastic!? Jay disagrees.

People!? Is it not enough that I want to recycle in the first place! The way I see it, they should accept whatever we give to recycle! It’s like giving to the good will, as far as I’m concerned. BEGGARS CAN’T BE CHOOSERS! What’s with all the damn rules? What is this, the “The Muffin Tops” episode of Seinfeld? Why does no one want the bottom of the muffin? That part is good too!



Learning the rules,
Bridget Marie