30 Day Leg Lift Challenge

I was sans a fitness challenge the last two months.

I don't like it.

Need a new one!

And did you know May is National Physical Fitness and Sports Month?
Well it is.

It’s Fitness & Sports Month! Check out this toolkit for ways to #MoveInMay: http://t.co/lmHjlAHgPr. #LetsMove pic.twitter.com/ICnvJDq5u0
— President's Council (@FitnessGov) May 1, 2014

What haven't I don't yet.....?

Leg lifts!

The View From Here: My Journey Toward Breast Reduction

Wow you guys, I almost blew it.

I failed to get someone scheduled to contribute this week's View ahead of time.

The other weeks of the month are covered.

I blame the cruise.

Thankfully, when you send out a plea for help to a group of bloggers, someone is likely to respond.

It's worked out kind of perfectly, actually.

Below is a very honest and personal piece from Elizabeth of Rocks, No Salt Mommy who is having breast reduction surgery TODAY.

__________

More Than a Physical Change: My Journey Toward Breast Reduction

I want to be a rectangle.

That’s the thought I had every morning in high school as I stepped out of the shower and saw my reflection in the wall-to-wall mirror of my childhood bathroom. A rectangle. You know, the body type that models have. No hips. No breasts. No curves. A rectangle.

But I was far from a rectangle. My silhouette was almost a perfect hourglass. I had hips. I had breasts. And boy, did I have curves. My teenage body was uncomfortably developed and I knew it. I felt it every day as I got dressed for school and had to worry about whether horizontal stripes would be malformed across my DD breasts. I felt the embarrassment of watching my group video in Zoology class as I was enlarged on the screen and my breasts stretched apart the ribbing of the Gap tank top I wore the day we filmed.

I especially felt it after a friend got some film developed (this was the ‘90s, after all) and I came across a group shot of us girlfriends. I had jumped into the photo at the last minute and was sort of lying across the other girls’ laps, so I was in the forefront of the frame. My choice outfit that night was a white half-zip sweatshirt (hooray for ‘90s clothes!) that was tight across my chest. The angle of the photo, the white of the sweatshirt, and my posing position made my breasts stand out as basically the only thing in the picture. Thank goodness Facebook wasn’t around back then because I would have been humiliated if that photo had made the rounds.

As much as I disliked my breasts, high school boys liked them immensely. I still get comments on Facebook from high school boyfriends about my breasts. I can’t say that I hated the attention when I was younger. I liked having a feature that made me stand out from the sea of girls roaming the halls. But that was just one aspect of having big breasts, and I played it off jokingly many times when my double-Ds came up in conversation. In private, I wished for nothing more than small breasts and narrow hips. The rectangle.

It was in private that my mom duct-taped my breasts before a dance competition. It was in private that I struggled with my backless dress for senior prom when my stick-on bra failed to hold up the girls. It was in private that I saw myself dancing on video and realized I could no longer wear bras without underwire. It was also in private that I cried when I made the cheerleading squad and none of the tops from the cheer closet would fit my chest so a new one had to be special ordered. Those were the moments that made me wish away my hourglass figure.

I was not obese. I was not round. I was simply curvy. I wore size 6 jeans and large or extra-large tops. I always had to buy swimsuits that came in separate pieces because one size would never suffice for both top and bottom. Oh, and those swimsuit tops always had to be a halter with a tie behind the neck in order to pull up my breasts. I knew the meaning of needing support long before most of my friends even started wearing real bras.

And all of this was before I was 20. Before I had children. Before I gained 40 pounds and gave birth. Before I breastfed two children for a combined 19 months.

With a 3 year-old and a 1 year-old, I have now found myself truly despising my breasts. I thought I hated them back when I was in high school, but I had no idea how much they would haunt me in my 30s. I have lost almost 30 of those 40 pounds, and I’m still bulging out of my DDD bras. Yes. DDD.

I can no longer wear button-up shirts, even with a camisole underneath and the top few buttons unbuttoned. My breasts simply pour out. I can no longer wear t-shirts that are not made of stretchy knit because my breasts are too tight across the thick cotton fabric. I find myself slouching as I type, eat, drive, and walk because the weight of my chest is overwhelming at times. I struggle with where to place the seatbelt across my breasts. And worst of all, I’ve basically had to stop shopping at regular stores because shirts just don’t fit me. I tried plus-size stores, but those shirts are too big.

I saw an episode of What Not To Wear featuring a big-busted woman and they gave her the advice of shopping at plus-sized stores, buying shirts to fit her chest and then taking them to get tailored to fit her waist. I’ve seriously considered that, but who wants to do that for the rest of her life?? I want to be able to grab a shirt off the rack at the mall and know it’s going to fit from top to bottom when I get it home. I’m ready to live that life.

I no longer wish for that rectangle. I’ve grown enough emotionally to accept this curvy figure I was given. I realize we can’t change our body type, so I’ve embraced my curves and I’m a proud hourglass these days. But, I cannot embrace these breasts. I cannot live like this any longer. I’ve wasted enough tears and years on these DDDs.

My mom says she remembers me discussing breast reduction before I even graduated high school. So, today I’m finally doing it. They’re going away. I’m saying goodbye to my breasts in a very invasive, permanent way. Today I go in for my breast reduction.

I’m finished having children. I’m finished breastfeeding. I’m ready for the next stage of my breasts. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but the prospect of finally having a body I’m comfortable in outweighs my fears.

So, box up the huge bras. Break out the swimsuits. Here’s to my first summer of strappy dresses!

__________

I knew a girl in the same boat as Elizabeth in 6th grade. She looked like a full-grown adult, but was only 11 years old. Of course at the time I felt envy over how developed she already was, even though I heard and saw the teasing she got, especially from boys. I know now that it wasn't cool.

I think Elizabeth is very brave to share this with us, so leave her a nice comment, and then go learn more about her at her:

Blog - Twitter - Pinterest

**If you are interested in contributing YOUR View, please go HERE**

30 Day Squat Challenge

There have been crunches.

There have been push-ups.

Then came planks.

Oh, I did not like the planks, my friends!

Ready for planks, my abs were not.

Therefor, I tapped out at 2 minutes Maybe 2 1/2, tops.

I kept doing them, but I got nowhere near 5 minutes worth.

That's OK. Moving on!

Imma do some squats this month....

source

This chart has the same numbers, but I don't know, maybe you like it better?

30dayfitnesschallenges.com

For November, my "exercise ingredients" will be:

Walk 2.5 - 3 miles
60 crunches
20 push-ups
daily squats

Squats are apparently good for your ass.
I discovered this when I Googled  for squatting charts, and there were all these BUTTS staring me in the face. Even naked ones! It was all I could do to find G-rated charts.
Go ahead, Google for yourself.

So you wanna do some squats with me?

30 Day Plank Challenge

For two months now I have been doing some sort of fitness challenge.

August was crunches and September was push-ups.

Push-ups didn't go as well as crunches, but I still did them! Mostly.

For October I will be attempting planks!

Or planking. Or however you want to say it.

I will be following this chart:

I couldn't track down the original source of this image. If someone claims it, they can let me know.

Or there's this one from 30dayfitnesschallenges.com:

So now my workout ingredients look like this;

Walk

50 crunches

20 push-ups

+

daily planking

Whenever I post about this challenge, I'll use the hashtag #30dayplank.

It's October 1st! Join me?

30 Day Push Up Challenge

I did a 30 Day Crunch Challenge during August.

Now I want to help the other least favorite part of my body: my upper arms.

I dislike them so much I never wear anything sleeveless.

Push ups can be pretty tough, so I looked for two different charts,

one starting with just 5 and the other with 15.

Both get you to an end goal of 40.

Found HERE

30dayfitnesschallenges.com

Yeah. I'll probably be going with the one that starts with 5.
And doing "girl push ups" on my knees!

I've been walking regularly for about 14 months, and will of course keep that up.

I will also continue to try and do at least 50 crunches a day.

I guess I see this as adding in the ingredients of a work out, month by month.

Big thanks to my very supportive friend, J.Ho!
(who also has a blog, Mom Rocks Mealtime)

Tomorrow is September 1st. Let's DO this!

30 Day Crunch Challenge

My friend JHo, who is a food blogger at Mom Rocks Mealtime,

emailed me and her other friends saying we should all do this:

With help from Google, I found 30dayfitnesschallenges.com

where they also have this variation:

A handful of us are on board, complete with a hashtag: #30daycrunch.

I gotta say, ever since having my son 7 1/2 years ago, my belly has been my least favorite

part of my body. The boy gave me "jelly belly"!

My OB/GYN called it that. Nice, hu?

So I'm doing this.

You should join us!

Talking about my body (on my blog!) forces me outside my comfort zone.

This is difficult for me.

But I really want to do it.

Because now....now it seems to be important. On so many levels.

Just before my birthday this year I found out that my serum cholesterol is "marginally high".

I guess this means it's not dangerously high, but is outside what doctors consider to be healthy.

Let me just say right here, that I'm not planning to disclose actual numbers. Not my cholesterol level, and especially not my weight.

I'll tell you my age all day long. I'm 38. There is, however, something different about a woman's (and maybe a man's too) weight. I believe most people to be far more judgmental about a person's weight than their age.

Not only that, but I don't think the number on the scale is the be all, end all in how people should feel about their bodies. In fact, it's kind of a pet peeve of mine. I get very irritated with people who feel like talking about their weight all the time.

Sure, the number on the scale is important to doctors in looking at contributing factors to any medical problems you may be experiencing. And personal trainers and nutritionists have all these calculations they like to make using your height, weight, BMI and whatnot. Fine. Whatever. None of that is where I'm coming from, or will ever care about.

What is of concern to me is my HEALTH and how I FEEL in my own skin. Last on the list is vanity. But yes, it is on the list. You would all call foul on me if I didn't admit that!

Here's the bottom line: I'm 38 years old, overweight and need to lower my cholesterol for the health of my heart. I had gestational diabetes in both of my pregnancies which increases my chances of developing type 2 diabetes. DIABETES, people! The very disease that is slowly killing my husband. I can't have it! I won't have it. Not only that, but heart attack and stroke run in my family. Family that I am blood related to. These are not small things.

When I found out my cholesterol had crept up, just as with having gestational diabetes, I immediately thought of the welfare of my children. With a chronically ill father, they need their mom to be the healthiest she can be.

I want to be the healthiest I can be.

Since April I have reintroduced breakfast back into my diet (the most important meal of the day!), am drinking a little more water and am eating less of the bad stuff I enjoy. I've decided I don't love french fries that much. More recently, I have begun exercising at least every other day. Nothing extreme; more like small steps. That's just how I roll.

Why am I telling you all this? Honestly I probably wouldn't be if it weren't for an opportunity I have been given to be provided with a 90 day supply of a diet support product to see if it might help me with my weight loss endeavors.

I am going to be trying Diet 1234™ from Creative Bioscience. I have chosen this product because:

Diet 1234™ is for modern dieters who want to lose weight without constantly counting calories and exercising all day. It is a revolutionary diet supplement designed to provide energy and promote weight loss naturally using key herbal extracts clinically supported to aid weight loss. Dieters face fatigue and food cravings as they eat less to slim down, and Diet 1234™ addresses these important issues.

I want to start making better dietary choices and this sounds like something that will help me do that.

Obviously I have already begun making changes to better my health. I will simply keep that up, while adding the supplement. I think this should make it easy for me to see if it is helping me or not.

And yes, I will periodically check what my weight actually is in order to know for sure if the things I am doing are causing me to shed some pounds.

So please, wish me luck!


PS: If any of my blogging friends would like to join me on this journey, you can click HERE to read the details and apply!

Labeled

Blind/Visually Impaired

Disabled

Diabetic

Sick

Stay-at-home mom

ADD

Overweight

Impulsive

Needy

Prude

Loud

Poor

Fragile

Little

Dork

The above are all words/terms that one could use to describe me or my family. There may be more than I'm unaware of.

Some might call them labels.

I suppose they are. Because no single one can adequately represent a whole person.

I guess people need to compartmentalize things in order to make sense of them. I know I do for some things. Honestly, it probably helps keep our heads from exploding due to all the information being thrown at us from so many directions.

The thing about labels is that they can pigeonhole people. Pigeonholing leads to a lack of respect for the whole person. People don't mean to do this. It's just easier. We have to make a concerted effort not to.

Labels come from what we see on the surface. Someone who knows you well doesn't label you. But I bet they did when they first met you.

Labels can also be considered judgments. Being judged sucks. For example, the label of ADD on my daughter. Many parents fight having labels like this placed upon their kids because they fear their child will be dismissed or overlooked, or judged as a "problem child".

Yes, it's a label, but in this instance, I feel it also serves to help describe my daughter's personality. It helps us understand her better knowing she has ADD and isn't some crazy, random person. We can better understand her style of learning and make accommodations therein because she doesn't fit inside the typical kid box.

So I think labels can be double-edged swords. Judgement vs. understanding.

I have been judged labeled as a prude before. Why? Perhaps because I tend to be kind of quiet in group settings. However, I have a great sense of humor and am not a virgin....so why a prude exactly?

Lately I seem to be being labeled as fragile. I have heard more than once things like "I didn't wanna bother you" or "you have enough on your plate, you don't need me adding to it". Also, "How are you, Jen?" and "Are you sure you're OK?".

On the surface it seems nice that people are trying to be thoughtful of my feelings and stress level. It is nice. But what it also makes me feel is "handled" or "coddled". And that's frustrating. I don't want to be treated differently because of what I'm going through, and I still want the opportunity to decide for myself what I can or can't handle. One of the things I wonder about most when thinking about my life as a widow someday is, will people become awkward around me? Will the label of widow be all that people see?

Being visually impaired has never been a huge label to overcome simply because I'm not totally blind. My loved ones often forget I can't see very well and walk away from me in the middle of a dark parking lot! Strangers see that I wear thick glasses, but they have no idea they don't correct me to 20/20 unless I make it obvious, and then they still aren't sure. Being totally blind is a huge label that comes with a myriad of preconceived notions one has to hurdle.

Now, that's not to say my eyes don't cause me any issues. Oh they do, don't you worry! But they're personal anxiety, self-conscious sorts of issues. And really, the least of my worries.

My body. Not something I enjoy discussing. I've blogged about how I feel about my body only one other time. The reason is, just like Ashley Judd so eloquently expressed at The Daily Beast two weeks ago, it doesn't freaking matter. Or it shouldn't. She said, "We experience brutal criticism. The dialogue is constructed so that our bodies are a source of speculation, ridicule, and invalidation, as if they belong to others." And I say, all that matters when it comes to a person's body is how they feel about it, and perhaps how their doctor feels about it. I mean, talk about the ultimate surfacy aspect of a person and judging a book by its cover.

I am more than a SAHM. Mark is more than a sick person. Camyn is more than a kid with ADD. AJ is more than a loud little boy.

I AM a dork.

We are ALL more than any one thing. Any one label.

I would even venture to say that this is perhaps one of the biggest reasons why there are so many bloggers. So we can shout to the world how much we really are. To tell our stories without being SSHed.


This post was inspired by Ashley Judd and Just.Be.Enough's "Change the Conversation" prompt for Be Enough Me, and is being linked with Yeah Write #54.


Also, next Monday is my 2 year blogoversary! I'd love to do a Q&A with you guys for the occasion. So here I've added a form in which you can anonymously submit your question (or identify yourself if you want!). Anything you've been dying to know about me that I haven't already disclosed? Anything you'd like me to elaborate on? Don't be shy; ask away! (If I don't like your question, I just won't answer it.)

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry I didn't love my step-mother.

I'm sorry for the time I puked my way from my bedroom to the bathroom.

I'm sorry my eyeglasses kept breaking.

I'm sorry I went with mom. I'm sorry I went back with dad.

I'm sorry I wanted to live with my mom when I was 12.

I'm really sorry I didn't do better at staying in touch with my family after I moved.

I apologize for going boy crazy, letting my grades slip and quitting the school band.

I'm sorry for my blind, ugly left eye.

I'm sorry I got pregnant at 16. And I'm sorry I had an abortion. I apologize for not being able to make everyone happy in that situation, and for not telling certain people about it, and for telling others.

I'm sorry you couldn't handle it.

I wish I could have understood geometry and chemistry better. I'm sorry I failed, and that I had to take extra classes in order to graduate.

It sucks that I never got to get a driver's license because of my crappy eyes. Sorry I can't drive and always have to ask for rides, not only for myself, but for my kids too.

I'm sorry I haven't finished earning a college degree.

I'm sorry for falling in love with a Diabetic and making you cry over everything that happens to us.

I'm sorry for making a very important decision for my family and that you put up walls and are still punishing me for it.

I'm sorry I don't like spinach, asparagus, guava, hummus or Pepsi.

I'm sorry you don't see how much you've hurt me, for how I've hurt you, for no longer trusting you, for still trusting you, for saying things I shouldn't, because you say things you shouldn't.

I apologize for being overweight. I'm sorry you don't like your body and feel the need to make me feel bad about mine.

I'm sorry I don't wear make-up or paint my nails. Sorry I don't know what's hip.

I'm sorry you make too many passive-aggressive comments.

Sorry my house isn't immaculate and that I've never had a home big enough to keep a guest bedroom.

I'm sorry for when my children misbehave and you judge me as their mother.

I'm sorry I don't agree with your politics, that I think everyone should be treated fairly, each of us has value and I don't think the death penalty is cool.

I'm sorry you piss me off. I'm sorry I piss you off.

I apologize if I don't live up to your expectations, if who I am bothers you.

But then again, all these things make up ME and maybe I'm not sorry for any of it. Maybe you should be sorry.

I opened up a new post and this is what
came out in response to Eden's prompt:
Sorry? Spill.