Tweaking

Despite some of the issues I have with my OB/GYN, I really latched onto something he said to me. When discussing changing medicines, he first brought up the old adage "if it isn't broke, don't fix it." However, he then went on to say, "Maybe you're feeling pretty good right now, but what if you could feel better? What you're looking to do is tweak a few things to get a better result."

Since then I've noticed that I've been in a big "tweaking" mode. Things are going well now, but couldn't they be even better? Maybe I could get better results if I do x, or maybe I could make things a little more exciting if I substitute y or try z for a change.

For example: this week I decided to forgo the usual canned pineapple on my cottage cheese. Instead, I got a bag of frozen raspberries out of the freezer and have been using that. In essence it's a small change, but it's made my mid-morning snack a brand new experience.

This morning I decided to see just how fast I could walk on the treadmill. I got to the usual point in my pre-set program that moves to 4 mph. Every minute I went up: 4.1, 4.2, 4.3 ... until I hit 4.5 mph. Wow! I could do it! And for several minutes! When the program usually gears down to 3 mph I changed it to 4. Can I get a patch for my sash that reads "Four Miles Per Hour Feels Slow on Treadmill"?

It was half-a-mile difference, but what a big difference it made in my workout. I came home sweatier than usual and my face flushed, signs of a good aerobic workout. But along with the physical feeling, the mental high of being able to reach that new level made me feel great.

Last night Mabel was switching channels and landed on FitTV, which was airing a workout show that involved modern dance steps. She started doing the routine, so I snuck up behind her and tried it, too. Admittedly, I was horrible at it, and Mabel kept looking back at me and laughing at my ineptitude, but we did it together and we were having fun.

Towards the end of the program they did some modified yoga moves, and Mabel was shocked at my ability to stretch and twist myself around (in my "tight" jeans, no less!). "You can actually do this!" she exclaimed. "Hey," I responded, "I work out every day, sister! I can do lots of things!"

It was a few minutes of goofing around, but I was so pleased that we not only had some quality time together that didn't involve me nagging her or correcting her, but that it was encouraging physical activity to boot. I'm not sure if it'll become a daily thing, but it's a start.

All these little things are tweaking. Trying things out, playing around with new things, all to keep myself motivated and keep the momentum going.

Okay, on to the usual Weekend Game Plan. It's shaping up to be another busy one: we've been invited to our friends' house tonight to celebrate her birthday with cake. This is the same house where we gorged on New Year's Eve, so it's hard to say how easy it will be to navigate this one. A piece of cake is one thing, but who knows what else they'll have laying in wait for us? I'm intending to eat one small piece of cake, and that's it. No ice cream, no fudge sauce, no fruity, creamy mixed drinks or beer. There's no "I hope" or "I'll try" involved. Total resolve!

Saturday, however, we're going to Pittsburgh for a big day in the city. It's already decided we must do supper at this rib place our family loves. I actually suggested it, because I know my daughter loves this place (this 50-pound child can wolf down most of a full rack of their ribs), and for the next two weeks I know she won't be enjoying eating once she gets the tonsils and adenoids out. I know, it sounds a little like the "death row last meal" that I talked about in my last post, but in this case it isn't in preparation for a diet, it's for an 8 year-old having her first surgery and who will probably be living on popsicles and chicken broth for two weeks. So why not give her one of her favorite meals?

[By the way, bless my daughter's heart. When Grandma brought her those donuts last night, she didn't dig into them right away. A good hour later she finally nibbled at one, put half of it back in the box, then finished it off this morning. If that had been me at 8, I would have eaten both of mine right away and sneaked some of my Dad's donuts the next morning after he left for work. I'm so glad she's got a different relationship with food.]

As for Sunday, I know my brother and sister-in-law have already made plans to have lunch with my in-laws; I know better than to think that means we get a weekend off, so I'm already resigning myself to yet another big meal in some restaurant.

Ugh, these bloody, buggery weekends! Lori commented to my previous post that she wondered how my Hubby, if he started his diet, would handle our typical weekends. One of two ways: he'll either stick to his plan but complain and whine bitterly about it; or he'll just give up and (hopefully) start over Monday. Hey, that's pretty much what I do! Hee Hee -- at least I admit it!