This Northern Life

Not a product endorsement

Amy — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 22:48:56 +0000

I know I’ve been absent blog-wise for a few days. Playing catch-up is a bitch, even if they’re only 50 word blurbs about people you know.

I am running out of people and I’m not even halfway through. This may be where I start making up people.

I did want to drop in and give a little update on the whole food/diet/getting out of this fatty mcfatterson funk thing.

It’s not been two weeks and some change of me keeping a food journal. I’ve been using a program on my iPhone called Absolute Fitness. Yes, I actually paid $14.99 to keep track of what I shove down my piehole every day. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been very telling.

The first challenge was to figure out what my daily caloric intake should be. After consulting many resources on the Interweb I settled on some numbers that seemed reasonable. But Amy, why don’t you just keep track of Weight Watcher Points? Yes, it’s true I could have done this. But being a person who occasionally works out and runs many miles (even when not chased), I wanted to make sure I was getting a healthy balance of protein, fat and carbs. Because let’s face it, if you’ve done this whole WW thing before, there are days when you consider eating your daily point allowance in chocolate cake. And how healthy is that? Well, not very healthy, dear reader.

I tend to be a label reader and think I have a pretty good grip on choosing foods that are relatively healthy. I am also one to go through fits of slackdom when it comes to resisting the things that aren’t great for me. Bad day? Why not bake a pie and eat half? Okay, I would never eat HALF, but I would certainly think about it. Um, hello, comfort eater.

I’m finding it very convenient to enter things into my phone, which I have on me all of the time. And while the program does have its quirks, and while it is WORK to enter custom food items/meals, I think it’s been completely worth it. Not only do I think before popping something into my mouth, but the program is showing me which areas I’m consistently deficient (and some areas where I could really cut back).

All in all, I think it’s been worth the $15. And for the record, I haven’t baked a pie in a few weeks. I did, however, buy a package of Fig Newtons yesterday. Scott noticed them and mentioned the “comfort food” I had bought.

What he doesn’t know is that I chose them over the Oreos. You call it comfort food. I call it progress.

50×365 #150: Pete G.

Amy — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 15:02:54 +0000

I thought you were the last person in the world who would quit their lucrative job, marry a stripper (after knowing her for a month) and move to Puerto Rico. Yet you did, and from what I hear, it seems like the best thing that could have happened to you. Cheers!

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #149: C.D.

Amy — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 02:56:04 +0000

You loathed me from the moment we met, for reasons I have yet to figure out. Maybe it’s because I knew, like everyone else, that you had risen to your position within the company by being the boss’ personal lapdog. Your blonde curly hair even made you look like a poodle.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #148: Jessie B.

Amy — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 02:52:29 +0000

Your boyfriend was your world, and you always seemed so happy at work, recounting your latest date or the things you loved about him. After he committed suicide, you were never the same, yet ourwardly, seemed largely unaffected. It crushed me to see you smile, knowing you were probably dying inside.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #147: Caryn

Amy — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 02:45:18 +0000

Get-togethers at your house were fun. Your mother would make us pizza, and we’d all sit in the basement and watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, without fail. It was one of the few times in high school when I felt like I belonged somewhere. It felt good to be among friends.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #146: D.K.

Amy — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 20:10:31 +0000

I’m fairly certain you became a teacher to hear the sound of your own voice. When you became the new guidance counselor, we were all screwed. The job gave you the soapbox on which you waxed on about your grand theories. Not so helpful to kids trying to choose a college.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #145: Billy O.

Amy — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 15:58:53 +0000

You were the weird kid at school. Something was never right with you; to this day I still don’t know exactly what. It was sad, but I stopped feeling sorry for you when you started crank calling our houses at all hours of the day and breathing heavily into the receiver.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #144: Bob N.

Amy — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 01:50:25 +0000

When we met, you were playing right field. Pop fly. You dove, caught the ball, then finished with a nice shoulder roll in the grass. You hung onto the ball AND the burning cigarette hanging between your lips without missing a beat.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #143: Uncle R.

Amy — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 04:10:03 +0000

You were going to pitch in the majors, and then you got sent off to war. An injury sustained in combat kept you from raising your arms above your head. Despite this, you could still pitch just as fast sidearm as you could before the war. Amazingly, you never seemed bitter.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.

50×365 #142: Mrs. B.

Amy — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 03:54:20 +0000

You told us we’d be on TV, so you taught us a song on the xylophone and how to dance around a dreidel. I had no idea what a dreidel was, or what it meant to be Jewish. “You don’t have to be Jewish to be on Daedle Doors,” you said.

I am a participant in Blog 365 and x365.