Confessions of an Ungirlie Girl

My boss says I look fabulous, but I'm just not feeling it today. It's not for a lack of trying, though.

I swear there's a dark side to being a "girlie" girl.

And I fail. Everytime.

Today is "picture day" for work, at least us "in action," with maybe a group shot or two. We were told to dress up by my wonderful (she really is) supervisor today, or at least business casual, but when you drop "picture" in there, I'm going to try too hard. Way too hard. I assume these pictures are for a marketing campaign of sorts, as we're gearing up for the launch of our new department at work after receiving my promotion to a new position in September, so I want to rock it. (Not going to lie, I do. And I wouldn't mind a great weight loss/professional picture I could use in the process. It's not too often you'll catch me "dressed up.")

But regardless of pictures or a promotion, I'm trying to embrace this new "girl" thing overall, after dropping weight and hitting goal.

Bottom line? I suck at being a girl.

With my weight loss, I'm trying to be a bit more girlie, in addition to dressing more my weight. My friend "R" forced persuaded me to buy a sweater-dress a few seasons ago after losing 75 pounds, on one of our shopping trips. It seemed to be the only comfortable "dress" I'd wear at the time and it took a bit of a push to get me in it, but I'm pretty sure she had an evil plan to get me to look like a girl all along. At least that's what I thought when she rubbed her hands together saying, "Muahahaha." (Kidding! Sort of... She succeeded though.) But who knew I'd like wearing them now, since the legging trend is in? I actually don't mind it now. (Side note/true story: I wore shorts under my wedding dress the day I  married Mr. K, I hated dresses that much. I couldn't wait to get out of it and back into jeans and race tee.)

But let's bring it back to today. Yesterday, I received a new pair of work shoes, courtesy of Kohl's and FedEx, but I'm not exactly seasoned in sporting pumps. Ok, well, they're not really pumps, more of a loafer-chunky-heel, but I fell in love with them on the website, thought they'd be super cute, and bought them. (I didn't think about the whole not-a-bootie, there's no strap around the ankle kind-of-thing. Oops.) I've tried to sport pumps for a wedding before, but ask "R" about our trip to DSW for nude-colored pumps... I went home with nude-colored flats instead.

Anyway, I figured today would be the perfect day to sport my new loafer-heels to work, because I'm slightly obsessed excited about them, and like picture day in elementary school, I want to look my best. As soon as I slipped them on to walk across my kitchen however, curse words flew out of my mouth. As a hockey fan (and just me in general), I have no filter towards cursing when I'm away from work.

...and I could easily handle hockey skates better than these things on my feet today.

...but in my quest for total girlieness today, I'm still adjusting to my shorter hair when it comes to curling irons and I now have a burnt forehead, in addition to walking like a newborn deer. Add in the fact my cute blazer I've been wanting to wear forever since I scored it on clearance is "Dry Clean Only," (let's just say I sweat. I'll probably forget to pick it up at the cleaners after taking it to have it cleaned,) girlieness isn't exactly what I'm feeling today.

But, as much as my hair, outfit, and shoes are driving me crazy, today's going to happen anyway. So I might as well rock it while I can.

Carpe Diem, right?

 Here's my outfit I'm attempting to rock today...
(Shoutout and thank you to favorite coworker Pam for nabbing this picture for me!)

Carpe diem Thursday, folks! :)

Scary Thoughts

As I’m sitting here writing this blog, currently it’s -11 deg. F. It’s brutal-cold. I don’t plan to go outside at all today if I can help it, though I’m scheduled to run my second run of the second week of Couch to 5K (again). Since it’s a snow day from work, I figure an update is in order, among several other things I have planned, like learning how to arm-knit. Seriously.

However, I’ve had some rather scary thoughts over the past few days.

You could say I love to travel. I’m a pilot’s daughter. I have the travel-bug, the need to explore. I’m the type of person to either, A.) Have a scheduled sightseeing tour down the second when being touristy, or B.) Set out (most likely on my own) and just wander aimlessly, taking in a city by foot, people-watching and trying to blend in as best as this Hoosier can, while getting lost and submersing myself into a new culture. This year, I have what could be the best opportunity to travel several places in 2014; by far being the most I’ve traveled in one summer since graduating college. I’m hoping, among a few races with an internship possibility, a few races and road trip to Central PA, and a trip to Boston to visit a now close-friend (who I still wish didn’t move, but I understand...), it could be a rather cool 2014! (At least I hope…)

But then my mom dropped what I’ve wanted to hear a week or so ago when having a mother/daughter lunch: Cruise to the Bahamas.

Um, yes please?!

It’s currently -11F and dropping in Indiana; meanwhile it’s a balmy 73F in Nassau. Do we really have to wait until May?!

I’ve been on the cruise before, my last being just shy of my 21^st birthday. Yes, it’s the Disney Cruise, but my mom and I both had a blast. Can we say, Serenity Bay? (Adults ONLY beach: Hell. Yes.)

Anyway, my first thought wasn’t, “Oh, I LOVE Nassau!” It was, “Oh, God. Should I buy a bikini?”

Which then ensues panic.

Sheer. Panic.

You see, it’s always been my dream, or kind of a ‘bucket list’ item, to actually be able to pull one off, though the pure thought of actually wearing one freaks me out. I’m too modest, but I want to do it. Just once to say I have. (But NO PICTURES ALLOWED.)

The only thought getting me through is that most folks on the boat with me, won’t see me again. Right?

I have about 4 or 5 months to get ready, and I’m running again, while also adding in kettlebell and weight training that I haven’t done before. I’m not going to be ripped by May or June, but I don’t want to jiggle everywhere. Seriously. That's how I feel...

As part of 2014’s resolution goal, I want to be able to embrace myself, my body, and get rid of all of the negative thoughts I have on a regular basis. You know, the “who cares if I have loose skin and stretch marks?” To be able to love myself wholly, and to not pick myself apart regarding imperfections. Rather, to embrace them.

But I’m incredibly self-conscious about everything. I hate the stretch marks I have. I hate the jiggle, the loose skin and wrinkles I have even if I’m doing ab work to the point laughing hurts.

…and yes, I know with time, it could go away. I can already see my obliques smoothing out which is kind of cool. While I was running pre-surgery, my legs started to take the shape of Carrie Underwood’s. (And seriously, she’s my fitness idol, I’m not going to lie. I love her, and her dedication to her fitness and health.)

I’m not the most patient person. If anything, we learned that post-op, didn’t we? But I think that’s also why I look at the scale too much, not measurements and definition, which is what I should focus upon now as I shift to maintenance instead of weight loss. Let’s face it, it’s the instant-gratification world I live in that is driving it. (I know that.)

But in the meantime, while stressing thinking of beach weather and bikinis, I’m throwing around options. There’s the midkini (which is apparently a thing) that rides a bit lower from the bust, and a little higher around the waist (perrrrrfect option for my conscious). There’s the tankini, which is also two-piece, with a tank top covering most of the stomach area. The one I really want though, found via Pinterest, is a lace covered one piece, in the style of a bikini, but the lace covers the midriff area. Only problem? $130. (I croaked.)

Whenever I find one, which it’s still going to be a while, I’ll share, but it won’t be me wearing it in the picture. I'm not the person who lifts their shirt for selfies of their abs. I’m too modest and uncomfortable with the thought, even if I am in shape. It makes me shudder just thinking of showing off my stomach, let alone anything else in open air, and God forbid, public...on a beach.

Oof. I have a long way to go, don’t I?