Blogging Break

I’ve decided to take a blogging break. I started to write a long explanation for why I need to take the time off. But the truth is, it’s for a variety of reasons—personal, professional, and well, confidential.

I could tell you that I just haven’t been meeting my weight loss goals. I could tell you that I need to focus on my job search. I could tell you that there are personal obligations and priorities that I need to put first. This is all true.

But the bottom line is that for now, I am taking a break. I can’t say when I’ll be back to blog.

I hope that you will keep me on your blog roll and check in from time to time. I hope that you do well on your own path to healthy living.

In the meantime, I will be starting my own resume writing business. I am a Certified Professional Resume Writer (CPRW) and Career Coach with nearly ten years of experience.

If you’d like to have a new resume that gets results, contact me here.

I am the Resume Geek.

"I'm Not Really at Peace with Myself, I'm Just Conceited"

Hi All!

My name is Christie and I am filling in for Lynda today. While she's off on vacation, soaking up sun or something equally fun, I'm here in Blogville and decided to take a little journey over to Taking Less Space and see what kind of trouble I can get into. If you want to read more about me, my daily trouble making, or any other of the random babble that I spew on a daily basis, check me out at He Took My Last Name.

Recently, I've started this little "challenge" of self love. I got Lynda to take it, and a few other people too. 

Why did I start making others love themselves? 

Well, actually, it has to do with me. And my story. Because I'm conceited. Don't worry, I'll share.

I used to be hot. I mean hot. As in, I had stalkers-hot. But I never thought I was hot. I was in high school and I always weighed more than my friends and it was depressing. I would constantly think I was fat, or that I needed to go on a diet. My mom was hot too, so I harbored a lot of jealousy toward her. But I wasn't fat, or less hot than my mom, or less attractive than anyone else. I have a curvy body type. At 5 ft 4 in, I weighed 160 lbs. Too much for my BMI. But I had great DD knockers and a tiny waist. 

I wasn't fat. 

I am now. 

It started when I moved out of my parents' house and in with my boyfriend. I weighed 175 and was in my final year of college. I was living with him and 2 other male roommates and it was easy to let portions get out of control. I also started a stressful job making bookoo dollars and I had money to burn. I spent it on eating out all the time. In the first 4 months, I gained 60 lbs. Then I got engaged.

I was depressed and I was in denial. I was so fat and miserable but I didn't know that I was also stressed out from my job, my engagement, and my impending nuptials. 

I didn't feel my feelings. I ate them. Then, I got laid off. Then my fiance got laid off. And then we ate our feelings some more. I ballooned up to 240 lbs. We were poor and we were miserable, so we decided the best course of action was to get married at the courthouse for $40. Misery loves company right? (Turned out to be the best decision of my life, though)

Anyway, that day I decided that I would get my weight under control. I would start "today". I tried everything from pills, to low/no carb to you name it! I actually used to hope that I would get an intestinal parasite (tape worm) so I could finally "drop the weight." Yeah, delusional. And a little crazy. I finally joined Weight Watchers in September 2010. And it changed my life. But not in the way that you expect. 

No, I'm still fat. I weigh 220 lbs. Over two years of struggling. And I've maintained a 20 lb loss. Pretty good in my books. 

But what Weight Watchers did, it did accidentally. I got frustrated with the process, started to resent it, and then came to a conclusion. I will not be happier if I lost 20 lbs from now, if I am not happy to begin with. 

It was a light bulb moment. A "duh!" moment. 

I'm no longer fat and miserable. I'm fat and happy. Sure there are things I would change or I wish I could do, like wear a bikini without scaring small children. But I am happy with my body. I've still got the great knockers (bigger now that I am preggo) and my hips are very big, perfect for supporting a growing baby (and belly!) as well as making for a pretty easy delivery. I've got fantastic, creamy skin that most women covet. Use your lotions. I don't need them! I've got the prettiest blue eyes- flecks of brown and a hint of gold mixed in. I've been complimented more on my eyes than anything else. And that's even when I'm wearing glasses! 

Other things I love? Yoga pants and elastic waists. Long, flowing tops. Thicker hair (hello hormones!) I love that my husband kisses my growing belly. I love that my skin is softer, creamier, and I really don't even mind the extra shaving I have to do (thanks again, hormones!) 

Maybe you all think that I am this way because of the "miracle of life" growing inside me. No. The reason that baby is here and growing is because I finally got OVER myself and started celebrating my body. I wasn't happy when I was thinner. I'm happier now than I ever was. I feel more sexy, more confident, and stronger because of my self acceptance. 

I stopped saying the negative things. I stopped saying "My eyes are so pretty, too bad I have to wear these ugly glasses." I stopped thinking "Wow she's got great legs. Mine look like tree trunks compared to her." I stopped feeling like a cow, a killer whale, a pig, a fat ass slob. I started seeing these negative thoughts and actions popping up in my every day and I finally just screamed "STOP IT!" and immediately said 5 nice things about myself. 

And it took a little while... probably not as long as you would think though. I'm pretty conceited and flattery (even self flattery) gets you everywhere! I started being my own best friend. I started putting myself up instead of putting myself down all the time.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not cured of anything. I'm still fat. I still eat frosting out of a can. (What? Don't judge. It's damn good!) and I still love cheese fries. 

But I still feel awesome about myself. And you can feel that way too!

I want every one to just think for a moment about your happiest moment, your happiest feeling... and summon a Patronus! Uh.. Sorry. Harry Potter moment. I mean, I want you to think of the time that you couldn't believe how awesome you were! How you finished that project, or got that promotion, or finished your first 5K, blisters and all. 

And then, pick another one. And another one. And just one more. And that's it. For today, anyway. 

Tomorrow, start all over again. Catch the negative thoughts. Turn your frown upside down! Life is too short to wallow in self pity and perceived failures.

Guest Blogger-@chibijeebs!

My apologies!  TLS had majorTechnical difficulties. Chibijeebs was nice enough to guest post, but it didn't work while I was on vacation. Here it is. Make sure to read. Go check out her blog here.


I've been working my way through Rosie Molinary's book "Beautiful You: A Daily Guide to Radical Self-Acceptance." It features one exercise per day to help you change how you see yourself mentally and physically, and how you interact with the world it large. It strives to help you become aware of potentially harming habits like comparing yourself to others or judging people. The exercises are short and don't generally involve too much time/effort/output.

Today's exercise was about self-care and how important a role it plays in learning to love and accept our bodies. It asks you to reflect on the ways you care for your body, as well as the ways you show yourself a lack of care each day; it ends by asking you to list five things you could do each day to care for yourself, including the preparations needed and when you can start doing these things.

On first read, I figured this exercise would be easy: I know all the things that would be considered "self-care." Unfortunately, as I sat down to write my list, I was shocked (and a little ashamed) to realize that there's very little I do EVERY day to take care of myself. Well, unless you count brushing my teeth and breathing as self-care...

As for the ways I show myself a lack of care each day, the list seemed endless:

• I don't move my body every day (in an intentional way - for me, this means exercise of some sort: I don't lay in my bed, never moving, or anything!)
• I don't eat healthy food all day, every day
• I don't get enough sleep every day
• I don't treat myself with the love and care I would treat a friend every day
• I don't take my vitamins every day
• I don't floss every day
• I don't do things like moisturize every day, or take care of my rough heels, or exfoliate, etc.

(The only thing I seem to be good at doing EVERY day is beating myself up!)

Of course, when it came to formulating my list of things I can do, it was pretty straight-forward: just do the opposite of everything on the list above! I decided to go with these five things:

1. I will move my body intentionally every day
2. I will eat healthy foods
3. I will go to bed on time (9:30 for me)
4. I will treat myself with love, respect, and self-compassion
5. I will floss and brush my teeth before bed

How do you score on self-care? Are there things you could improve? What's one thing that you can work on, starting today?

New Tagline

Some of you may have noticed that I have a new tagline on my blog."It's about developing a positive body image, making healthy food choices and focusing on fitness." This blog is becoming less of what I eat and my weigh-ins and more about health and self-acceptance.


I want to be healthy from the inside out. This includes what I tell myself, how I see myself, what I feed myself, and how I move. I feel like I am making strides in my fitness and activity levels (today I did a 2 mile bike ride and a one mile walk around the track). OK, I stopped at Starbucks in the middle, but you have to admit, that's pretty good activity! (Note to self: don't exercise at high noon in the summer. Although noontime exercise in the heat is better than none at all.)


It's not to say that I won't mention weight loss here and there. Occasionally. Every now and then I might tell you what I ate or share a recipe.


But this blog is changing. It's growing. Just like me. My goal is to be fit and healthy. From the inside out. I want to feel good about myself--about my body--today. Now. Because now is all I have.

"That Time of the Month"

This is a blunt post about what happens to me during that time of the month. It is gross. I wouldn’t blame you if you chose not to read this post. Be warned.

That time of the month. Let’s start with the before. The PMS. I’m all achy. I have a brutal headache. I have cramps before, kind of “preview” cramps for the torture that is to come. Then there are bad hair days (several of them), a broken out face, bloating, and gas. I get hot and sweaty. I become exhausted and dizzy. Oh, and I cry. I am weepy. It takes something like a simple Hallmark card commercial to make me bawl.

Then there is the “hollow leg”.

Oh, the hollow leg. The need to eat anything and everything in my site. I crave chocolate and salt. If it’s a chocolate covered pretzel, all the better. I know you’re not supposed to eat the chocolate, salty, fried, fatty things during PMS, but that’s all I want. And the monster inside me wants it and will settle for nothing less.

Even after a full meal, I’m ravenous. As in stomach-still-growling hungry. I also crave dairy. I am not even supposed to eat dairy, because I’m lactose intolerant. I’ll pop a lactaid and eat dairy anyway. I usually end up feeling paying for it anyway.

Before you tell me to see medical help, I have. Nothing seems to help. The prescription meds just make me sleepy and don't work at all. Lately, I’ve been doing acupuncture and that is a small and very subtle relief. But it’s expensive.

Friggin’ hormones. From the PMS days straight into the main event, I am irritable, crabby, and sometimes hateful. I hate everything and everybody. Best to stay out of my path because it can be very, very bad for anyone who dares to come near me.

The first two days of my period, I am bleeding heavily. I usually go through a maxi pad every hour.

Then there are the cramps. It’s like someone reached right through my stomach, ripped through my abdomen and then hurled it around through a brick wall just for sport. It is debilitating. I’ve had to call in sick to work. I’ve cried because the cramps are so bad. I’ve screamed and yelled and cursed the gods.

Hot water bottles help a little bit. Sometimes I try to sleep, but the vicious cramps wake me up. (Oh, and during PMS, I have insomnia. That’s fun. For that, I take Tylenol P.M. or something stronger.)

Do not talk to me about exercise. I can’t even move. I am dizzy. I am also attached to the bathroom. I have bad diarrhea. Last night, it was explosive diarrhea. Good times.

I always thought the symptoms would decrease as I got older. They’ve only gotten worse. After the first couple of days, it’s better. But I hate this time of the month. There is nothing good about it.

Beach Vacation

In just a few days, I’ll be sitting by the ocean in Maine doing a whole lot of nothing. Scratch that. I will be feet-in-sand, sun-on-my shoulder, body-in-icy-cold-ocean. (They call the water “invigorating.”)

I will be drinking cold beer. And then there’s lobster night. Two weeks of vacation. My fitness plan is basically walking back and forth to the pier. I love walking at low tide, feeling the soft water spray on your back, listening to the sea gulls, watching the vacationing kids dig sand castles.

It’s not my usual bam-bam, slamming, chasing-after-it-cardio. It’s low maintenance fitness. It’s slower, relaxed kind of activity. I’m not much of a swimmer, so I’ll walk at low tide along the ocean’s edge and kind of stroll around.

I’ll read trashy celebrity magazines and find out what George Clooney is up to now that he’s single. I’ll get some beach reads—some fluffy confection that’s the equivalent to a chick flick, except in a book. Any suggestions on a light, funny, somewhat romantic book that doesn’t require too much thought?

Yes, there will be some fried clams and maybe even some ice cream. I’m not going to worry about it. It is vacation, and like they say, all things in moderation.

While I’m gone, I’ll be off the grid. But not to worry. I’ve lined up some of favorite bloggers, Christie from He Took MY Last Name and Chibi Jeebs from Chibi Jeebs and the Neurotic Struggle. They will both be Guest Bloggers here at Taking Less Space. Keep your eyes posted here for their stories.

I’ll probably write one more quick post before I leave for Maine. After that, it’s Allagash beer on draft.Aaaah…

P.S. If you haven’t done the Self-Acceptance Challenge, go ahead and try it!

My Love of Beer

I wish I didn’t like beer as much as I do. White wine on a summer day, a nice vodka tonic, a martini or Cosmo if I’m feeling feisty. I can give all that up, but I can’t say (or won’t say) goodbye to beer. Now before you start preaching or getting worried or sending me things about the 12 Steps, it’s not an issue for me. I can have one or two beers and stop there.

Don’t worry. My issue is with food. If I am “addicted” to anything, it is food. I am an overeater and an emotional eater. I’ve already established that. Moving on.

Ah, beer. I began my love affair with beer in college, the way that most people do. The cold, salty, refreshing buzz of the bubbles and the giggles that soon followed. I started drinking the brands of a traditional college kid on a tight budget: Bud, Bud Light.

As I got older, I discovered things like Red Stripe and Sam Adams. I dug deep into craft beers and brew halls. And can I just say-- if you ever visit the great state of Maine—a cold Allagash draft beer on a hot summer night is probably one of the best things you can drink. (If you’re buying a six-pack in the summer time, trust me when I say this: buy Red Stripe.)

Now I want a beer.

I probably shouldn’t be saying all this. All of you readers out there (hello, readers, you are awesome!!) will make your way to the nearest bar or the closest liquor store. I am a bad influence on you today, aren’t I?

I love beer. I love everything about it. But I wish I didn’t. If I didn’t drink beer, I’d probably be maybe 10 pounds lighter. Maybe I wouldn’t have the pooch beer belly. Maybe I’d be this person who just drinks water or ice tea in the summer time and hot tea in the winter.

I do feel that if I didn’t love beer that I would be thinner. Four points for one beer, says Weight Watchers. FOUR!! If I have two beers, that’s almost enough points for a meal. Four frigging points! I wish I didn’t like beer as much as I do; I’d lose weight so much faster.