30 by 30

I am hereby declairing my weight loss intentions publicly: I intend to lose approximately 30 more pounds by January 31, 2010.

You see, to this point, I have lost 30 pounds by using an online weight loss program. Check older posts if you're curious about which one. They're not paying me to advertise. ; )

However, about a month ago I plateaued. Not because the program quit working, but because I quit working. I haven't gained anything back, but I've also not lost any more. I got lazy about it.

On January 31, 2010, I will turn 30 years old. I'd like to celebrate this momentous occassion at my goal weight (technically, 31 more pounds, but "30 by 30" is catchier) and in the best shape of my life.

So I'm declaring my intentions publicly to give myself the extra dose of motivation I need. I hate losing and I really hate letting people down. (I know you probably don't care, but humor me.)

In order to do reach my goal, I will stay within my weekly allotted food intake, and I will exercise moderately for at least 30 minutes, at least three times each week.

I will keep myself accountable to the blogging world with a tally of weight loss in the right hand column, which I will update every Monday. And should I exceed my caloric intake OR neglect to exercise, I will post this information, as well.

Gulp. This is really scary.

But I can, AND WILL, do it!

29 reasons I can't dispute the result

I just took another Facebook quiz, and the results have cut straight to the heart.

Just when I was getting used to the idea of turning 30 (start planning your over-the-hill themed presents now; you've still got about 6 months), I find out that I'm actually much older.

According to Facebook, I act like I'm 43. Wow. That's rough.

Of course, I mean no offense to any 40-somethings who may be reading this. It's just that ... well ... would you want to be accused of acting 14 years older than you really are? I didn't think so.

What's worse is that I think it might be right. In honor of my biological age, here's 29 reasons why I may, in fact, be confused with a middle-aged woman:

1. I drive a mini-van


2. And I think it's cool.


3. I'm routinely plucking grey hairs from the top of my head


4. And from my face.


5. I have, on multiple occassions, scheduled my evening around the late night show.


6. That is, on the few occasions where I was up past 10 p.m.


7. I recently bought a hideous pair of shorts, with an elastic waistband, because they were $6.


8. Then I wore them in public.


9. I own a swimsuit with a built-in skirt.


10. And the only reason I quit wearing it was because I'd had it so long it was becoming see-through.


11. I buy underwear based on practicality.


12. It's been at least six months since I've seen the end of a movie without falling asleep.


13. I've used the term "blouse" in the last week.


14. I refer to college students as kids.


15. And I don't understand what the kids are in to.


16. I can count the texts I've sent -- ever -- on my fingers.


17. I eat Fiber One bars for breakfast (They're REALLY good).


18. I gripe about commercials being too loud.


19. I do not know, nor do I care, who Lady Gaga is.


20. But I do crank up the radio when Phillips, Craig and Dean are singing.


21. Or when a Mr. Big song comes on


22. Or Lionel Ritchie


23. Or Aerosmith


24. Or D.C. Talk


25. Or practically any hair band from the early 90s.


26. The last time I saw Zach Effron, my first thought was, "Why doesn't that boy cut his hair?"


27. My purse is large enough to house a small family of rodents.


28. I have no desire to read or see Twilight. It's not a moral stance. It just seems absurd to me.


29. My favorite attraction at Disney World was the Hall of Presidents.

Wow, when I put this all together, I realize I'm even lamer than I thought.

Perhaps I'm more like 73.

The beginning of letting go

This morning began with incredible news. As of 4:35 a.m. today, our good friends Frank and Mary are the proud parents of a new baby girl, Macy Elizabeth.

Wow! Of course we’ve known this was coming for months, but there’s just something about new life. It always catches you off guard in the most wonderfully exciting way.

Therefore, we’ve also known for months that we needed to make alternate arrangements for childcare, since Mary watches Emma during the day. And we did. After checking out local day care options, we decided on a center that was a good fit for Emma and relatively affordable (in a “we’re already going into debt anyway” sort of way).

In other words, I was technically prepared.

But for whatever reason, I wasn’t mentally prepared to send Emma to daycare today. Maybe it’s because her free “trial” day wasn’t scheduled until this Thursday. I don’t know. All I know is that I was a nervous wreck all morning.

I pictured my precious little girl scared in the care of strangers, confused by why her mommy and daddy had abandoned her.

That’s partly why I got ready at record speed this morning; so that I would have time to give her lots and lots of extra attention. I also wanted to allow ample time to introduce her to her teacher and to make her feel comfortable with the new routine.

We shared breakfast in the living room, so that she could watch Dora, her favorite cartoon. Then when she requested a pink, butterfly clip for her hair – a clip I hadn’t seen for weeks – I hunted through the back of the drawer as if my life depended on it. Phew! I found it.

By the time we pulled out of our driveway, my nerves were shot to the point of nausea. For a split second, I contemplated, “How I will ever survive the first day of kindergarten if this is what pre-school does to me?”

We arrived at the center, and I psyched myself up for what was sure to be a difficult goodbye. I could already anticipate the guilt I’d feel as she’d tearfully beg me to stay. But we walked in anyway.

The greeter efficiently welcomed me, and then she ushered us to Emma’s new home away from home.

That’s when it all fell apart.

It only took one look at all the toys and kids in the room, and a huge smile broke out on Emma’s face. I asked, “Are you excited?” and she literally started jumping up and down.

Emma gave me a quick hug around my legs, mostly to humor me, and then she was off. Off to explore and play without as much as a look back in my direction.

Seriously?! How could she do that to me? She didn’t even know these people! How could she abandon me like that?!

Yes, I’m not ashamed to admit it: I needed a longer, drawn out hug to assure me everything was going to be okay.

Before heading out the door, I asked if it would be alright if I called around lunch time to see how she was adjusting. Clearly used to nervous parents, the kind woman told me, “Yes, you can call as often as you like.”

So just after noon, I called for a progress report. They told me she’d eaten almost all of her lunch (which she doesn’t do at home) and that she had just closed her eyes for a nap (which she also won’t do at home).

The woman asked for my e-mail address to send me pictures of Emma’s first day, and the pictures corroborated her testimony. Emma was having a ball.

Sigh.

I suppose I should be grateful that I’m raising a confident girl. She knows the mommy who dropped her off at daycare will also be there to pick her up.

I should also be happy that she can roll with the punches. That she can, as her name means, “embrace everything” that life throws her, seeing it as an opportunity for adventure.

But at the moment, I’m just not feeling it. Not one bit.

Instead I find myself a little sad. Suddenly I realize, this is just the beginning of a lifetime of learning to let go.