Who Will Save Your Soul?

Every so often there's a song or an idea or movie that saves my soul. You know when you just feel like you're outlined in pencil, and it's been a long ass time since you've been colored in? And then you hear this song or learn something awesome or read a great book—though for me, it's usually a song—and you're alive again, in living color.

There's always an LP playing in my head—like my theme songs of the moment. They save me. They breath life back into me. They make me want to run faster, be smarter, be cooler, be happier. They snap me back to ME—don't worry, I won't go there again.

This summer, the soundtrack to my Ultra Fit 6-week jumpstart program with the one and only Lori Sawyer, www.ls-fitness.com or www.mommy-moves.com, goes a little something like this:

1. Crazy by Gnarls Barkely (Yes, me and the free world. I know. I know.)
2. Gold Lion by Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs (I love the melodic, polished yet deconstructed East Villageness. It reminds me of hot summer nights with nothing to do but hang out and feel the breeze.)
3. Anyday by Derek and the Dominos (So much talent, so desperate, so raw and so messed up, so sloppy and so rock-n-roll.)
4. Oh, and I can't belive I am even going to write this (my former punk rock self is pointing and laughing as I type): SexyBack by Justin—yes, Timberlake. (Dudes, it's a good track and it's exactly what I am all about right now.)

Let me tell you something: these songs saved my soul, my hide and my pride this week, the week of the hiking workouts. I hadn't been hiking since I was 20. I was just out of college and seeking refuge (after 7 months as a cocktail waitress and struggling rocker-be) in Hawaii with two of my bffs. I really don't dig hiking because, well, it's hard! I never breathed a word of this whiner crap to Lori though. In fact, I just pushed all these negative thoughts outside of my brain and went for it. If I wimped, I'd have to cop to it on the blog. My ego superseded my laziness.

You know what? It didn't suck. It was actually cool because I conquered the hikes, or actually I conquered my fear that I couldn't do them. Lori kicked my butt but good. Running up hill, using random fences and mega-gross logs as push-up and dip props was very challenging, but still fun and adventurous. Huffing and puffing, I kept on going. There was a natural flow to the workout: what—or who, as it were—goes up, must come down. So up and down we went, pausing to use her wonder band for arm, chest and back exercises. I knew that I could do anything she asked because also knew that I'd eventually catch a down hill break.

Bugs, uneven terrain, humidity, fear of ticks (yes, this is my fear du jour), impending period, watch out because I'm just crazy enough to let my gold lion loose. Anyday now, I'm getting my sexy back.

So what's saving your soul?

me is Not 18

Soooo, there's me. I'm a normal-ish, 30 year old mom, semi-new suburbanite, editor/writer—you know, same as you. Then there's ME: my totally rad alter ego (in my head), of whom I am so very fond. ME is 115 pounds, awesome haircut and color, cool—but not conspicious—clothes, swagger and witty retort. me. ME gets free drinks, doors held open and second glances. me kind of looks four months pregnant, so me still gets doors held open and second glances—but no free drinks.

Me. me. ME. 30. 18. 30. 18.

Soooo, there me is, doing her killer circuit with The Body, aka Lori Sawyer (www.ls-fitness.com), on some field next to a high school boys' baseball game warm-up. Me is killing the killer workout a la Pam Anderson in Baywatch (all smooth and graceful running, hair cascading in the wind, sun streaking on my skin) meets Heidi Klum post baby on Access Hollywood. What's up, boys? You all think I totally rock—I know it! Oh, but wait, that wasn't me, that was ME. me wasn't killing anything except herself in her mind for ever eating all those chocoalte bars, cheese doodles, mashed potatoes and pizza. me was red-faced, flailing and stumbling, gasping for breath, hair unwashed and held back by a stained headband, and squinting to avoid the sun getting in my eyes. There's actually a picture of this, but I have to work up to posting it.

Oh, me! Oh, ME!

ME and me agree that the workout rocked and I killed it me-style—which is just fine, thank you. me knows that ME will be back soon, but even better than before. Looks, metabolism, subsidation, lack of responsibility, and your whole life ahead of you aside, who really wants to be 18 again? I am going to be 30 with a vengeance. In fact, my 30 is going to be able to kick my 18's ass.

So much has changed in the short time since I started my Ultra Fit Challenge with Lori. I feel so much better; I look so much better. My family is eating better. I have so much more energy. I am excited, not daunted, by getting dressed.

me like-y.

Egg Whites and Soy Butter Rule

Okay, so the editor in me is horrified that I chose the above as my post's title. But, seriously, nothing sums up the theme of my morning better that "Egg Whites and Soy Butter Rule." Well, maybe "Egg Whites Are Not Un Oeuf," which makes me laugh, but works better spoken verses written.

Anyway, back to the happiness that is egg whites. Check it, folks: egg whites, italian spice mix, NO SALT, and a little soy butter = absoultely delicious and filling. Even my 16-month old daughter, Scarlett, the non-eater supreme loves them. In fact, these eggs are one of the few things she eats.

Oh, and the other wunderbar thing is that I am supposed to eat carbs (good carbs, no white crap) with every meal. I ate a gorgeous piece of multi-grain bread with my egg breakfast and didn't even feel guilty. I mean, serioulsy, feeling guilty about carbs has become a part-time job for me. I could have taken up knitting or discovered the formula for cold fusion (they haven't done that already, right?) in the time I spent obsessing over the carbs I ate and then planning how and when I would eat more of them—evil!

The other magnifico (yes, I am trying to include one foreign word in each paragraph for some bizarre reason) outcome is the marked improvement of my entire family's food consumption. As mom, aka ruler of the food universe, I control who eats what. My new-found gusto for all things healthy, organic, colorful, vital and balanced has completely overhauled every aspect of Shawn and Scarlett's diet, too. It feels so good now to prepare healthy, but still tasty, meals and snacks for my family. It gives me a real sense of pride and accomplishment.

Well, that's the scoop for now. It is the little things that lead to big happiness, huh?

Oh, I guess "Gettin' Eggy With It" would have worked, too.

Skinny Is As Skinny Does

Okay, guys, let me start this post by saying two things: firstly, much love to the groovy gal who posted a comment. I truly appreciate your words of encouragement; secondly, it's 9:45 pm and I am drinking a glass of water—not wine—whilst finishing up my day's work. You can actually have one glass of red a night, but not me. I really want to do this thing the right way. Who needs the extra calories or the morning brain fog?. Honestly, even one glass of wine slows me down the next day. I am sure my dear, old friends from my bartending days just got a chuckle from that statement. So over the past few days I've gone from wine-o to water-o. I totally dig water again. I used to guzzle it, but got out of the habit. I am supposed to drink upwards of 100 ounces a day for the next six weeks—and I'm loving it. I think I may have been severely dehyrdated (processed foods, salt and alcohol adding to it) for three years now. I feel like a new woman—I SWEAR IT—just from drinking all that water. Just like experts say, drinking water curbs appetitie, sugar cravings, makes you have way more energy and flushes out the toxins and the bloat. Of course, the clean eating helps cure the bloat, too.

For my first workout with Lori (www.ls-fitness.com): Well, let me begin by saying she knows her stuff. She is the real deal. It's so cool to work with such a professional. She emails me everyday with supportive yet strong words. I will not let her down—and I will not let myself down! Our first workout was a circuit in the park in the afternoon. It was hot, but that was the only time I could fit it in. In the past, I would have used the lack of good timing as an excuse, but not anymore. We made a plan and I had to stick to it. So circuit, think: sit-ups, medicine ball, running military-style through hoops (you know when military guys and girls run through tires?), jumping jacks, lunges, sprinting, squating, lifting—just writing it makes me a little winded. There were a few times when I secretly wanted to stop, but my pride wouldn't let me. I made it: one hour of pretty much non-stop circuit training (well, there were breaks, of course, but you know what I mean). I loved it. I loved it. I am not athletic AT ALL and I am so thrilled that I made it through. I feel like a star.

Now, this working and working out mama must go and see what her still-working papa is up to. It's 10:02 pm, but since I'm feeling pretty groovy thanks to my new program, maybe the night is still young.

Custard's Last Stand

I am 160 pounds. Seriously, I cannot believe it. I should be writing about my awesome new online mag, www.thefamilygroove.com—it is the hippest parents' place in cyberspace— or life with child, and instead the only thing on my mind is my flippin' weight. You know in the beginning of Janet's (Miss Jackson, if you're not groovy) "Control" how she says, "This is a story about control, my control...?" Well, dudes, this is a story about control, my control. The truth is that my whole hour-to-hour happiness flow is predicated not on my family's happiness—of that I am certain— and not on the success of my new business—of that I am certain, but on the size of my waist.

How did I become zaftig? When did my size four closet turn into a museum? Okay, I know the answers to these questions: 15 pounds of what I call my suburban sprawl (I moved to NJ three years ago and force-fed to numb the culture shock) and 30 pounds of baby weight minus not-so-much movement over the last sixteen months since my daughter was born equals dodging mirrors, ducking photos and one humugous dose of denial.

Okay, now the laundry list of excuses: work, I work all the time; self-sabatoge; no baby sitter; too tired; those cookies are yummy. The real reason: totally horrendous eating habits and no exercise—duh!

So tonight, here I am freshly into my thirties with lyrics from another theme song on the soundtrack of my life bouncing off the walls of my mind: "We're not gonna take it! NO! We ain't gonna take it!" I don't know who "we" is, but I am done. I am not gonna to take it. I am not going to suffer at the fate of my own hands anymore.

Enter: Ultra Fit's six week challenge. An easy-to-follow, lifestyle-friendly eating plan, three solo workouts a week with TFG's MILF (Mother in Love with Fitness) Lori Sawyer, www.ls-fitness.com, my guide on the road back to me.

Bye-bye cake, cookies, pizza, pasta, butter, burritos, chips and cheese (somehow that list makes me feel like Homer Simpson). Hello, clean eating, working out, drinking water and rockin' it groovy-style.

Think I can do it? Get the bi-weekly skinny on my losing battle as well as blog gabbin' about all the other goings-on in my 'hood.

The Mother Load

The Mother Load of all Blogs begins tomorrow...