Week 10

Things I Should Be Doing Right Now Instead of Writing This:
1. A research paper for my short story class.
2. Reading short short stories for my writing class.
3. Laundry! Seriously!! Imperative!!! I'm running out of underwear!!!!
4. Exercising.
5. Catching up on much needed sleep. (Undereye bags? Apparently not as attractive as I thought.)

At any rate, I'm writing this instead of doing those things. I have this illusion that everyone waits on bated breath to hear what the heck I cooked this week.

Don't ruin that illusion, y'all. I'd have to go cry in the corner or something.


Goals met (or worked on):
24. Write down every single movie I see.
30. Wear a skirt or dress once a month. IN PUBLIC. (3/33)
34. Wear high heels once a month. IN PUBLIC. (3/33)
46. Make a NEW recipe every single week. (10/143)
96. Buy a book for a stranger.


Movies watched: Cold Souls and Away We Go. (Yes, again. Yes, I know it's a problem at this point. The first step to recovery is admitting it.)


Faithful readers (if any of those actually exist) might remember when I took a nosedive on my high heels (or, as I like to call them at this point, high hells). I had a wedding to go to this week. I had to face a decision: dress or potato sack.

All the potato sacks I tried on didn't fit. Plus I look like hell in brown. So. Dress it was. I also wore heels (not pictured, but I've got stinkin' witnesses).



I couldn't decide if the dress was really cute or really, really ugly. I finally decided that it was really cute in a Sarah Jessica Parker style way. That woman could make a potato sack look fierce. So I owned my ugly cute dress. (Also, Sarah, if you're reading this: I love you and your perfume and want you to be my best friend. I'll make you cookies. Once a month, at least.)


Recipe this week was from definatalie.com and may just win for cutest/most fancy recipe presentation ever.

I LOVED THEM. I recommend these very highly. Though I will admit that I threw my hands up in the air after trying to calculate the per-muffin calorie count. Some things are better left uncalculated.


Pre-bake.


Done!


I swear there will be something interesting on here soon. It's all been dresses and food lately, and I apologize for that. Things will kick into high gear eventually.

If not... at least you got a great muffin recipe out of the deal, right? RIGHT?!?!

Week 9

Goals met (or worked on):
13. Go out in public without makeup five times. (2/5)
23. Write down every single book I read.
24. Write down every single movie I see.
30. Wear a skirt or dress once a month. IN PUBLIC. (2/33)
34. Wear high heels once a month. IN PUBLIC. (2/33)
46. Make a NEW recipe every single week. (9/143)


Books read: Half-Assed: A Weight Loss Memoir by Jennette Fulda.

Movies watched: Away We Go (twice!), Notting Hill.



As for the dress and heels, FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK:

The heels were old ones I had, but they were pretty high.

I wore it to my classes. I felt pretty dang good. I've worked like heck to get these legs, and I got to show them off a little. I got through two classes, a bazillion flights of stairs, and a trek uphill to the English building. I started to rethink my shoe choice right away: for one thing, they're too big, because apparently losing 70 pounds also makes your feet shrink. For another, I have never quite "learned" how to walk in heels because I'm 5'10" and never really felt a need for them. Hell, I even wore flats to the prom. But I digress.

I begin walking home. Halfway there, I think to myself: "Self, you're doing pretty good for someone who never wears heels. You look good, you feel good, you're finally snapping out of this funk you've been in. GOOD FOR YOU."

And then. And then. SPLAT. Me, on my hands and knees, sprawled in a very unladylike fashion half on and half off the sidewalk. My left shoe has flown off and now is resting on the other side of the sidewalk. My right ankle is underneath me. And two guys (two very, very nice guys who only said "OH SHIT" and who did not laugh once at me) are staring at me, on the ground.

In a dress. To add insult to injury. I freaking hate dresses.

The two guys help me up, remind me that "Heels are unsafe!" and ask if I'm okay repeatedly. I say something immensely stupid like "Oh, I do this ALL THE TIME" and hobble away. When I get safely out of their sight I stop, try to remember the date of my last tetanus shot, take off the heels, and walk barefoot the rest of the way to my car, where I call my (wonderful! beautiful! completely kind and spectacular!) friend Charlsye, half laughing and half crying. I go to pick her up and we go to our favorite restaurant, where I sob in the parking lot over a lot of things. I'm glad people put up with me.

BUT HERE'S THE BEST PART: I skinned my other knee a few weeks ago! I now have TWO skinned knees. I'm 22 freaking years old. WHAT THE HELL.


Recipe this week was Raspberry Chocolate Chip Bars. Okay. They mean MELTED butter. MELTED. They HAVE to. Because the dough did not go all "crumbly." The dough was dough-y and these things are ugly as heck.

However, things that are as ugly as heck can still taste pretty dang good. And these do. THESE DO.



Interesting sidenote: have you ever tried to "finely chop" pecans using only a steak knife? It's great fun. But how can I justify spending money on a great chef's knife when I have groceries to buy? Or, you know, shoes that fit to buy?



And today was a no makeup day. For reasons I do not care to disclose, but mostly have to do with vodka.

Some people never learn, y'all.

Week 8

Goals met (or worked on):
24. Write down every single movie I see.
46. Make a NEW recipe every single week. (8/143)

Movies watched: (500) Days of Summer


This week's recipe was supposed to be pumpkin bread with walnuts. HOWEVER, according to the nice (cute!) stock boy at Publix we are in a CANNED PUMPKIN SCARCITY period in this fine nation. So I had to get creative. One of two things end up happening when I'm forced to get creative.

1. Miserable, miserable failure.
2. AMAZING VICTORY.

I searched the beautiful aisles of Publix for a suitable replacement for canned pumpkin. I considered making something boring like sugar cookies. But no. I have a reputation to uphold and (at least!) 8 blog followers to satisfy. So in a fit of (accidental) genius, I picked up a can of sweet potato pie filling.

It. Is. Awesome. I just replaced the 1 cup of pumpkin puree in the above recipe with 1 cup of the sweet potato. And to make things even more interesting and sinful I went ahead and made a batch of cream cheese frosting to put on top.

That's right, my 8 friends. TWO recipes for the price of one this week. Reputation upheld!



Lesson learned this week: orange vegetables are interchangeable! Scarcity be DAMNED!

Try it. You'll like it.



I have to wear a dress and heels within the next week because my months reset on the 2nd. I'm sure you're all waiting on bated breath for that. Spoiler alert: it'll be black.

Week 7

Goals met (or worked on):
24. Write down every single movie I see.
46. Make a NEW recipe every single week. (7/143)

Movies watched: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (I've never seen any of the Star Wars movies and my friend Emile is kind enough to force me to watch them.)



This week's recipe was Vegan Macaroni and Cheese. Again, I'm not a vegan but my dear friend Charlsye is. She missed mac and cheese. I wanted to remedy her suffering. Hopefully we did a little bit.

The exciting thing about this recipe for me was that I had to make a roux. I always watched my mother make it for gravies or sauces and I was fascinated that a little bit of flour, butter and milk could lead to something wonderful in the sauce department. So I made a roux and it turned out passably okay. That was exciting!

We didn't put the "ham" in, and we used Monterey Jack instead of cheddar cheese, just because vegan cheddar apparently leaves much to be desired.





It ain't pretty, but it was pretty dang good!

Week 6

I know what you're thinking.

Christen, (you're thinking), I almost died without knowing about how your week went. I needed you so badly and you weren't here for me. HOW DARE YOU!??!

Well, the wait is over, my co-dependent friend(s). Sorry this is late(ish), but life got in the way.

Goals met (or worked on):
23. Write down every single book I read.
24. Write down every single movie I see.
26. Do a fun art project with my nephews and niece. (1/3)
46. Make a NEW recipe every single week. (6/143)
50. Bake cookies for someone once a month. (2/33)

Books read: These Happy Golden Years by Laura Ingalls Wilder, plus about a bazillion and four short stories by various authors.

Movies watched: Gigantic, When Harry Met Sally (for about the 84,000th time), about half of Just Like Heaven, The Time Traveler's Wife (yes, again), some of Toy Story (fell in and out of sleep), about 15 minutes of Field of Dreams, and about 20 minutes of Never Been Kissed. PHEW.


AND NOW, this is the part where I killed three birds with one stone. For a pacifist vegetarian, I sure do enjoy killing birds.

I made Halloween-themed black cat cookies (on popsicle sticks! wonderful!) with my niece Maddie. She helped SO much and did such a great job. Here's the end result:



So, since I've never made the recipe before, I killed one bird.

I made enough dough to put half of it in my sister-in-law's freezer to make at her leisure, thus making cookies for someone else. Second bird bites the dust.

Thirdly, I'd definitely call this a craft project. Third bird DOA.

Woo-hoo! Here's the exact recipe I used, if you'd like to try these. We used halved jelly beans as the noses, just because. And our candy corn were pink, white and purple because we're cool like that.

Week 5

Goals met (or worked on):
46. Make a NEW recipe every single week. (5/143)

This week's recipe was vegan peanut butter cookies from chooseveg.com. I'm not a vegan, but my friend Charlsye is.

Long story short: I suck and PAM is apparently the devil.

Now, I didn't expect every recipe I tried for this project to be a raving success. But I also didn't expect to encounter pure unadultered disaster this early in the project.

Oh well. Live and learn.

Morals of story: "ungreased" actually MEANS "ungreased." 10-12 minutes is a LIE. And I'm apparently not the expert baker I thought I was.

Hubris is a bitch.

Here are some photos of the carnage:

Notice the burnt splotches of PAM on the pan. Attractive.


THE HORROR. THE HORRORRRRRRR!


These really would have been SO dang cute had they not burnt. Dang it.

Goal 56

Goal 56: Go to the gym and request a personal training session.

I'm going to be frank with you guys, because I'm all about honesty and I'm all about sharing my strengths and weaknesses openly.

I used to weigh 285 pounds. I began a new lifestyle (I never, ever call it a "diet") on March 8, 2009. I now weigh about 218 pounds, give or take the weight of a banana and a piece of fruit leather.

However, even with all this success (or whatever you want to call it), I was still deathly, deathly afraid of the gym. I'm talking phobia. I'm talking getting the shakes if I even walked within 100 feet of the front doors. I'm talking about hyperventalation at the thought of a free weight.

Yeah... it was bad.

Like I've said, when I wrote THE LIST, I consciously put things on there that would be challenging to me. So number 56 was almost an impossible dream. Forget meeting Oprah, man. Number 56 was going to be the hard one.

But last week I walked into the gym and requested a personal training session. I didn't work out last week or even stay in the gym longer than I had to, but I went up to the front desk and wrote my name in their little binder and signed a piece of paper stating that I wasn't an over-40 hypertensive male.




Notice the date? That's right. Today was my session with Anthony.

I walked to my university's (free!) gym. I stood outside the glass doors, staring at the people inside. They all looked so tan, so thin. They all looked like they were going to laugh at me the second I walked in there. I stood outside those glass doors and literally thought of excuses not to go in. Swine flu risk came to mind. Meningitis germs. Plain old fear. And then I pushed those doors in and went inside. Got a locker. Went up to the front desk and asked for Anthony.

Now let me digress a little bit: I am a flirt. I can flirt all day. I could probably medal in flirting at the Flirt Olympics. I enjoy a good looking male specimen. But as I sat on my little couch waiting for Anthony and watched all the worker dudes walking around in their red shirts, one particular one caught my eye. And I thought to myself: "Please don't be Anthony, please don't be Anthony, please don't be Anthony."

Oh, it was Anthony. It was.

He was adorable and nice and kind and incredibly knowledgeable and CUTE AS STINKING HELL and I instantly dissolved into some kind of mushy mass that giggled a lot. The thought of working out in front of him, of sweating in front of him, made me want to turn around and run back out the doors. But I didn't.

We decided on a four day a week weight program, with cardio besides. We went around to every machine that I'll be using. He was patient and answered every question I had and showed me how to use the Butt Blaster, which I wanted to hug him for, because he looked RIDICULOUS. But so will I, so that's okay. And then he said that he wants to see me again in 4-6 weeks to gauge my progress.

NOW, I am not one to assume, but I'm going to go ahead and believe he's in love with me and the "progress" appointment is really a date. Don't burst my bubble, y'all.

The highlight of the evening, however, was when he needed to know how much I weighed in order to adjust a machine. WITHOUT EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT OR HESITATING, I said 218. Just like that. "218." And while he adjusted the machine, I thought about it. I have no shame about saying that number anymore. There is absolutely no sense of sadness in me about that number. I am freaking proud of that number. And I smiled, you guys. Right next to the assisted pull-up machine, I smiled like a dang fool. A proud dang fool.

I'm happy. And excited. And very much looking forward to doing this good thing for myself 4 times a week. I'm so glad I faced my fear. I'm so glad.

Goal 56: ACCOMPLISHED.



Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.