Dressypoo

I think I'm becoming a girl.

Dillypoo is shaving her legs daily and has fallen in love with dresses. As recently as a year ago, I never thought I'd utter either of those statements.

It started with last year's Easter outfit:

This was the first dress I purchased in maybe 15+ years that wasn't as a bridesmaid or for a formal event. I bought it out of desperation because I was between sizes and couldn't find any white slacks that fit.

Then two months later I bought this:

And now a year has passed and I own 22 dresses. I figure that's one for every year since the last time I bought one.

I've finally discovered that wearing sundresses in the summer is cool, as in I'm-not-going-to-die-of-heat-stroke-wearing-jeans cool. This revelation comes none too soon. It's summer and triple-digit heat wave time.

I may need to try some skirts next. I understand they're comfy, too.

Shhh...It's a Secret

Dillypoo can finally let you in on the little secret I hinted at last month. The Professor and I have been putting our DIY skillz to use renovating our bathroom:

For six weeks, we've taken our sad, out-dated and disgusting bathroom and turned it into this mini-oasis:

I have a ceiling fan!

And a place to store my ironing board!

And STORAGE!

The Professor did all of the woodwork and cabintry:

Including the trim, which he insisted on milling himself:

It's still not finished, but we're at a good stopping point (for a few weeks). Next on the honey-do list is flooring, a new sink and a final, glossy coat of paint on the paneling.

Considering our home is 95 years old, this reno has been a long time in coming.

Follow the Owl

5:00 a.m. Shut off iPhone alarm and rise.

5:15 a.m. Leave house and begin running.

5:47 a.m. Finish three-mile run through the 'hood.

5:50 a.m. Let Stella out for a pee.

5:55 a.m. Let Stella back in.

5:58 a.m. Sit down at computer and point browser to J.K. Rowling's YouTube page.

6:00 a.m. Watch the owls disappear and Jo appear:

6:02 a.m. Start clicking on every Harry Potter fan site available, looking for owls to follow.

7:05 a.m. Begrudgingly turn away from the computer to get ready for work.

7:06 a.m. Return to the computer and make something special to wear today:

Iron-on transfer sheets and a spare t-shirt are good things to always have on hand.

8:10 a.m. Finally hustle out the door for work.

Count Down to Jo

Dillypoo is going to bed soon so I can be up at 6:00 a.m. and watch YouTube crash. That's when J.K. Rowling will reveal her newest project, Pottermore:

I'm going to set my alarm for an hour earlier so I can get a three-mile run completed before gluing myself to the computer for however long it takes to get the scoop and explore the new site.

And then I guess I'll go to work and try very, very hard not to spend most of my day doing the same.

Life Lesson No. 10

Dillypoo and sharp objects are like oil and water. They shouldn't be mixed:

Day three of shaving and I've managed to slice my arm:

And foot:

I told you so!

Hairy Situation

Dillypoo is a clutz. I admit it. I am a danger to myself. I've broken more bones than fingernails and I know my limitations. I avoid situations where I can injure myself.

Like shaving my legs. Dillypoo and anything sharp are a bad combination.

I have scars, people! Scars from tragic shaving incidents. The last time I put a razor to my legs, I carved a gash that required an entire roll of toilet paper to staunch the bleeding.

That was sometime in early 1983. I was living off campus in Los Angeles and I spent a good portion of that morning peeling wet toilet paper off me, the bathroom floor and shower walls after covering my wound with multiple Band-Aids.

It was also the last time I shaved my legs. I was thin, young, had blond hair and didn't give a rat's ass. Hairy legs were better than scarred ones.

Fast forward your time-turner to last August. Dillypoo is almost to goal and feeling pretty svelte. The Professor survives a shopping trip to the mall and I pick up a sanding kit that promises to painlessly remove body hair.

It was an impulse buy made during a moment of vanity. After 28 years of looking like a hippie, I decided I wanted smooth legs.

And I've been keeping them hairless since. But I gave up on the sanding kit and switched to Nair:

Twice a week for the past six months, I've lathered my legs and washed the stubble down the tub drain. Dillypoo's legs have never looked so fine (if I say so myself).

Until last week. Seems that not only is Dillypoo a clutz, she's also sensitive. My buddy, my pal, my magical friend for silky smooth, hairless legs gave me a hellacious rash:

I look like I'm covered in bright red freckles. Or measles.

I informed The Professor that the hairy look may have to return for a bit. I'm not sure if the look on his face was concern for my rash or worry that I was about to sprout fur again.

After five days, the rash is slowly getting better, but now that I'm used to hairless legs, the stubble is driving me nuts! So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of.

I shaved my legs. With a razor:

I broke out a new one. I figured new blades would be better than the old, pitted ones I've been using for my underarms.

Sorry if that was TMI. But then again, this whole post is a bit too much information.

I know millions of women shave their legs on a daily basis, but I was 19 the last time I did it and I damn near bled to death. I was a bit nervous as I sat in the tub with my tiny but lethal plastic razor. I left my phone on the counter just in case I needed to dial 9-1-1.

Once clean, I stared at the razor and debated whether I should break out The Professor's shaving cream or just use soap. Because I already had a rash from a "shaving" cream, I decided to lather up with soap.

I don't remember shaving being quite as awkward way back when, but then again I was standing in a shower and not soaking in a claw foot tub. But I managed to successfully shave my legs without cutting myself!

And now Dillypoo is learning to shave at a time when most women my age give up on it because they don't give a flip anymore. I guess I'll have to pester my younger co-workers for advice, like how often should I replace my razor and what brand is best?

No, I don't know who I am or what I did with myself.

Chip Ban

Dillypoo is abstaining from chips for two weeks:

I love me some chips! But sometimes I need to dial back the love a bit. Chips are supposed to be a treat, not a staple. Dillypoo's rule is no more than once a week.

I've been breaking that rule quite a bit lately.

I started the boycott on Sunday and my resolve was tested as soon as I banned them. The Professor and I met my family for brunch at a local Mexican restaurant.

But Dillypoo was a good girl. I had no chips!

I was tested again on Monday: lunch at another Mexican restaurant with some work friends. I kept to the ban plan, though.

No chips passed my lips.

Today was yet another Mexican restaurant for lunch and more chips. I ignored their salty cries to eat them.

I'm doing this because when I catch myself breaking my rules for healthy living, I know I need to stop the behavior before it becomes a problem.

It's that pesky Crap Theory again! The more I eat chips, the more I crave them. So no chips for awhile.

It's going to be a long two weeks!

More Potter?

Nerd alert!

My favorite author had the Harry Potter fandom all in a dither today when she sent us on a scavenger hunt across the interwebs!

Ten clues on ten different fan sites (many of which crashed due to the volume of site traffic) that led to the above website: www.pottermore.com

And there's a new Do Not Disturb sign on the office door of Jo Rowling's site:

Which means another announcement is coming soon!

Personally, I hope it has something to do with the mythical HP encyclopedia she keeps hinting at.

Squee!!!

Collecting and Spending Activity Points

I've been thinking about The Crap Theory again and WW activity points.

I earn a lot of activity points. Last week I added an extra 38 to my plan. I earned 10 on Saturday alone after running five miles in about an hour.

And like most Club WW members who earn extra points, I ate every one of them.

I began earning activity points about six months after starting this journey in 2009. That's when I realized I could eat more if I moved more.

Back then, I was still figuring out ways to work my usual favorite things into the points system, like Taco Bell, Doritos and anything with gravy. The Crap Theory had yet to reveal itself, so while I was eating smaller portions and counting the points, I was still craving crappy foods because I was still eating them.

Walking in the park for an hour was a way to justify an extra taco or bag of french fries.

I eventually realized that the point of exercise wasn't to eat more crap but to replenish my body with necessary nutrients, which can't be found in a drive-thru window.

In other words, the points I earn with activity need to be used to fuel the exercise instead of satisfying a craving.

Sunday I went for a five mile walk with my buddy, Carla. She's new to running and is training for her first 5K on the Fourth of July (yay, Carla!). Because I was still pretty pooped out from Saturday's five mile run, I power walked while she ran. It took us about 90 minutes and I earned 6 activity points.

But instead of saving them for a craptastic chocolate shake or fast food mcburger, I spent them on a healthy breakfast full of protein and healthy fats:

It's what my body needed to build muscle and prepare for my next activity. I spent Saturday's 10 points on a fruit smoothie with protein powder (4 points), a slice of toast with a half-tablespoon of almond nut butter (2 points), a teaspoon of olive oil (1 point) and some cheese (3 points).

I think a lot of folks make the mistake of believing they can eat anything they want because they had a good work out or got in some exercise. But whether you're counting points or calories, if you eat more than you burn or earn, you won't lose weight.

It's a simple formula, but I never was very good at math. That's why it took so long for me to figure it out.

I'm a Wuss

Dillypoo was attacked by a spider today. I was sitting at my desk, working away like a good employee when a hairy, eight-legged beast hurtled towards me across a pile of papers.

Shrieking, I pushed away from the desk and backed into a bookcase.

Dillypoo: "SPIDER!!!! I NEED A HERO! PLEASE!"

Co-Worker: "Where?"

Dillypoo: "THERE! ON THAT PIECE OF PAPER!"

Co-Worker: "You need to get a grip. It's tiny."

Dillypoo: "KILL IT!"

Intern: "I'll get it! I'll take it outsi..."

Dillypoo: "PLEASE JUST KILL IT! I'LL FIND ANOTHER HERO IF YOU'RE A BUDDHIST!"

Intern: "OK. Um...I'll just use this Post-It pad."

Dillypoo: "IT MOVED!!!"

Intern: "I got it..."

Thank goodness for Post-It notes and interns.

Another Post About Running

Spring stopped by for about two weeks sometime last month before Summer arrived early and threw her shit to the curb.

It was 101 degrees today. I burned my tender nether regions on a scalding hot car seat.

Texas summers are usually scorchers, but this one is starting sooner than usual. The official start of summer is still two weeks away.

I'm being robbed of valuable time to condition myself for running in hot weather.

After almost collapsing during a run last Thursday afternoon, I made sure to drink enough water for a small elephant on Friday so I'd be fully hydrated for my run on Saturday.

The plan seemed to work. I ran five miles in just under an hour and I didn't get overheated, I didn't stop to walk and I didn't pee all over myself.

Of course, running at 6:30 a.m. is better than running at 6:30 p.m. About 25-30 degrees better.

My coaches continue to pound into me the need to slow down and drink, drink, drink. I'm beginning to see the benefits of pacing myself slower, but it's still hard.

Sometimes I just want to run. It's a thrilling thing to do after spending most of my life as a couch potato.

But slow myself I must, especially when running more than three miles or in 90+ degree temperatures.

I'm also not supposed to run everyday, which is beginning to mess with my mind.

Up until a few months ago, I was getting at least 30 minutes of daily exercise 5-6 times a week. It was the final adjustment in changing my attitude towards healthy eating and living.

It also got me to my final goal weight. Not getting sweaty daily is driving me nuts. 

So I think I'll start walking again.

I went for a four mile walk on Sunday and loved it. I've been so focused on running, I forgot how much I enjoyed walking through the neighborhood, past the zoo and into the park.

So on the days I don't run, I'm going to try and walk instead.

I'll also try and take some pictures while I'm out. I need something to pretty up this blog.

Running Update

It's been awhile since I've posted a Weigh Day update or played along with Brandy's Fat Ass Friday linky. And even though it's not Tuesday (my actual weigh-in day), I'm happy to report I am currently under goal and have been since getting there last October:

This is easily one of the proudest things I've ever accomplished.

And as exhilarating as the journey was getting here, the path forward continues to be full of surprises. Losing the weight and becoming a runner has changed me.

My current challenge is learning to run long distances and training in the heat. And trust me, running in hot, humid weather is a challenge.

Yesterday I ran four miles and it was probably the hardest four miles I've done.

I had to stop and walk part of the way. I had to do to the same last Saturday during a five mile run. The heat makes running incredibly hard.

And it's only June. Running is going to get tougher. Which means Dillypoo needs to get tough.

I'm learning to pace myself slower and conserve my energy so I don't tire out early. I'm also learning how to better fuel myself before and after a run.

Tomorrow morning I have to run five miles again. We're starting at 6:30 and I'm hoping the earlier time will help.

I think I'll drink another bottle of water and go to bed early. Rest and hydration should help, too!

Walking Tall, Sort Of

Dillypoo has been called many things in her lifetime. Graceful is not one of them. I have a long medical record of broken bones to prove it:

• I broke my arm at age 6 wrestling with a neighbor boy.
• I fell down a canyon when I was 10 and broke my leg in three places.
• I broke a toe after dropping a brass flag stand on my foot when I was 11.
• I fell off my bike when I was 13 and broke my finger.
• I broke my elbow when I was 15 after falling off a bench during a Leif Garrett concert at Six Flags (I also scratched my cornea that night with my contact lens. No, I did not enjoy the concert.).
• I broke my ankle tripping UP the stairs when I first moved in with The Professor.

Yes, I am quite at ease in the emergency room. Unless the doctor looks like Doogie Howser, which is more and more likely as I get older.

Anyhoo, Dillypoo knows better than to take risks. Today I not only tried these on:

But I attempted to walk in them. They have six inch heels. Luckily for you, my co-workers were able to capture the moment:

What you missed was me grabbing the door jamb to keep from falling over. From a standstill.

Fortunately, a trip to visit Doogie was unnecessary. But it was a close call.