Female Friends and Dieting

What is it about telling a female friend that you are dieting that makes her urge you to stop?
My friend Sheila says maybe we're only trying to help each other increase our self-esteem -- "You look great!" "You don't need to lose weight!" or even "Diets don't work."
We all do it.
I don't enjoy dieting, but a look at the scale reminds me that I weigh about 30 pounds more than I did when we moved to Columbus.

I was even heavier here when we traveled to France in 2015.
I don't want to avoid cameras or dislike my photos in France
because of my weight. 

I weigh almost as much now as I did when I gave birth to my youngest, and he's the one I gained the most weight with.
Yes, I know that muscle weighs more than fat and that I work out constantly so I am probably healthy, but what is wrong with wanting to be at a lower weight?
I'm not trying to lose 30 pounds. People say that would be too skinny, but if you look at me when I was that weight, you wouldn't think I was anorexic.

See? Healthy. Not too skinny. But also young. I'm not trying
to get to that weight. Just less than I am now. 

I look good, healthy -- although at the time, I never realized it.

I just want to lose about 10 pounds.
If I lose 4 pounds from where I am now -- mid diet -- I'll officially not be overweight anymore. That means I'll reach the top end of the BMI which means between 21-25 BMI. Again, I know that muscle might throw off the official BMI reading, but if you looked at the places I carry fat, you really can't argue that I could lose those pounds and it wouldn't hurt. It might make me feel better, run faster, feel sexy about my body.
I promise I'm not in danger of becoming anorexic, and I'm not judging anyone else who is happy with their body. Good for you. I hope to join you on that platform once I reach my goal.

Pizza Crawl

It started when Sheila and I went to our regular place for coffee. A yellow paper stuck to the wall announced a pizza crawl.
We'd heard of pub crawls, but I'd never been on one. The pizza crawl was the same kind of thing but we would go from pizza place to pizza place then vote at the end for the one we liked best.
"That sounds like fun," I commented last week.
This week, we were back at the coffee shop with another friend who pointed out the pizza crawl. "Yeah, we were thinking about doing that," I said.
So when I got home, Sheila had sent a message to our group that said she and I were going to take part in the pizza crawl.
"Wait. I don't think I committed to that," I responded by email.
"I think you did," she replied.
So that how I ended up walking to our small downtown on Thursday evening.
I stopped by Sheila's house first where she blended up a couple of margaritas and put them in to-go cups, those cups people use to get iced coffee drinks, with lids and straws. I like to think of myself as a rule breaker, but I was pretty nervous about walking around with an alcoholic drink. We have open-container laws here, which means you can't walk the streets with an open drink. Sheila pointed out the drinks were closed cause they had lids.
I warned Tucker that he would need to come bail me out of jail if I got arrested.
Our first stop was right around the corner. A thin crust white pizza, which meant no red sauce. We picked one that had tomato slices with dots of spinach. I liked the flavor of olive oil and that the pizza wasn't overwhelming.
At the very first place, Sheila and I agreed that if we tried to eat a whole slice of pizza each, we wouldn't make it very far. So we decided to buy one slice of pizza at each restaurant and split it in two. That way we could try more.
Each slice of pizza was $1. By the time we had finished, we had visited 6 pizza places and spent $3 each. Not bad.
After the first nearby place, Sheila suggested we try some of the farther flung pizza places that we wouldn't usually visit, so we began hiking along the road and hit the two farthest ones.
One of them was in a bar. We walked in to head-banger music. Sheila called it 80s hair band music. She admitted that she used to hang out in this bar and do her homework when she was in high school because they were lax about checking IDs. She pointed out the bathrooms: "One was for using the bathroom and the other was for doing drugs."
After we got our slice of pizza, she texted her youngest, 14-year-old Thomas, and told him and his friends not to walk all the way to this bar for pizza. It didn't seem like a good idea for the unaccompanied teenagers to come to the bar. Of course, Sheila didn't have that rule for herself when she was a teenager.
The pizza in the bar was saucy and cheesy, but not too spicy. When we finished, that was our 4th shared piece of pizza, equivalent to two whole pieces. I was starting to get full. We decided to head to the farthest place in the opposite direction to try a piece of pizza another friend had recommended.
So we started walking. Throughout the evening, we walked 4. 6 miles, according to Gmaps pedometer. Walking in my Birkenstocks, after running 4.5 miles that morning and working 8 to 3, I felt the day wearing on me.
We sat down at the last place to a piece of pizza with artichoke hearts, black olives and dried tomatoes. The toppings were tasty. I ended up eating the toppings and leaving the end of the crust.
Finally, Sheila and I walked toward her house. We stopped at one last place and grabbed $1 slices of pizza to take home for our kids. I bought two very heavy meat lovers slices to take home to Tucker, covered with pepperoni, sausage, bacon and meatballs -- holy cow.
It was worth it though, cause he was happy, and I could finally put my feet up -- full of pizza and maragarita and enough exercise to not feel guilty about it.
Next time, I think I'll try a pub crawl.

Saturday Snapshot -- Kitten

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

We had a kitten visit us this week. Earl claimed him and the kitten promptly put his chin on Earl's arm and started to fall asleep.

The kitten belongs to Tucker's girlfriend who got him as a graduation gift. I know, who gives a kid a pet for graduation? Parents shouldn't give them more reasons to stay home.

Anyway, the kitten didn't have a name yet and Tucker decided it should be named Kevin. He was calling the kitten KevDawg. I thought that was an awful name for a kitten, but apparently it stuck.

Now I told him he has stay in the relationship with his girlfriend forever since he named her kitten; otherwise, she'll think of him every time she calls the kitten Kevin, or KevDawg.

Maybe she should have gone with her original idea and called it Mango.  

Friendship Runs

I do not want to go for a run this morning when my alarm goes off at 5:15. Princess texts me at 5:20 that she isn't going to make it for the run. In diplomatic fashion, I text back, "Oh, you wimp. Let's go." She ignores me after that.
I am yawning as I meet my friends at the lake. We wear long sleeves in the morning air that hoveres in the 50-degree range.
It is dark again when we start, now that the sun is getting lazier and rising so late in the morning.
Dream Girl is still bald as she continues her chemotherapy for breast cancer. She usually lets her shiny head glint in the sun when we run, but she wore a hat this morning and wishes for ear muffs as we start.
We talk and talk as we run. We interrupt and chide and praise and laugh then laugh some more. We pause (from running, not from talking) at the 3.75 mile turn around while we drink water then we run more. And when we get back to the lake, rather than stopping at 7.5 miles, we run the 1.2 miles around the lake -- twice. So we ran between nine and a half to ten miles this morning and it wasn't bad.
As we go around the lake again, we notice artists set up, their easels open painting in the brilliantly clear morning air. They take in the trees, the lake, the clearest blue sky.
"The light is just like Provence today, isn't it?" I say to one artist and he nods in agreement.
After I finish, I stand facing the lake with a weeping willow obscuring my view.
"See," I tell my friends. "If you look from here, it is just like being in Monet's Garden." Which is where Earl and I visited in April, see the following picture as proof of the willow and the lake and the sun.

Dream Girl has started to do some calculations in her head. She has four more chemotherapy treatments. Her last chemo will be the week before the Columbus Marathon and half marathon. She thinks maybe she should do the half marathon to celebrate the end of her treatment.
"Great idea," The Queen of Privacy and I agree with her. Neither of us volunteer to run it with her. Of course, the Queen just ran a half marathon in April and she may be planning to run the full marathon in November. She doesn't like to commit ahead of time.
But the possibility of that half marathon is one of the reasons we kept running this morning rather than stopping at 7.5. When we finished the nine and half to 10-mile run this morning, it felt like Dream Girl could definitely handle the half marathon if it were tomorrow. The run felt good, but the therapy on the trail felt better.
These friends, who I see only once a week, are not there to say, "Good job" to all my choices. They correct me when I'm wrong and argue with me. These runs are good for my body and my soul. They take me to task when I've done something dumb and love me anyway in the end.

Ecstasy and Ivory

This morning, like most, my guys are all sleeping. My husband, my two sons. My daughter is off in the Bahamas, and I have the luxury of reflecting on my girl time. That's what I have every Saturday morning when I gather with my friends and we run. We laugh, probably more than we run. Words tumble over each other as we all share our week, our emotions, our lives.
This is a picture of all of us when we attempted a hiking trip. It wasn't as successful as our runs are, as far as accomplishing the hike, but it was definitely successful in allowing us to spend time together.
Any problem or joy I have, I can take to the trail and know my friends will commiserate or rejoice with me.
The run yesterday (8.5 miles)involved a couple stops to remove pebbles from shoes (Najah), a bra flash that was probably seen by a dozen cars travelling along the nearby highway (Noreen), and an insistence that we make it all the way to the halfway point before we slowed and drank some water (Pam). Well, and the sprint at the end (me). I just think it is wrong to run 8.5 miles and not be breathing hard at the end. We run slow enough the whole way that we can talk and laugh. If we pushed ourselves to run faster, we could finish sooner, but who wants to leave friends sooner? So we run slow and talk, but at the end, we've started sprinting. My friends complain about it, but I notice they do it anyway.
The end of our run yesterday included a lap around the lake because we needed another mile. So we turned off the paved trail and took to the dusty path that goes 1.2 miles along the serene lake. As we turned the corner to reach the deck, Picabo and I crossed a grassy strip to run on the paved trail. Najah and Noreen stayed on the path. The incline (hill) at the end loomed ahead of Pam and me while the lake path stayed more level.
"I think this is where the sprint starts," Pam said.
I started lengthening my stride, feeling my thigh muscles stretch out. I felt powerful. After I reached the top of the hill, I let gravity keep pulling me down the incline and Pam continued to sprint, passing me. I ran until we both stopped beside the deck. Noreen and Najah joined us.
"That was so cool," Noreen said. She didn't have the energy to sprint, but Najah's stride lengthened and she began to sprint. Noreen felt Najah's energy pull her along. We were all breathing a little heavy as we returned to our cars.
After last week's near injury for me, my friends had discussed what they would do if I couldn't run.
"If I were injured, I'd bring my bike and ride along," Noreen said.
Pam said the conversation last week was, if Paulita can only walk, we'll walk. If she can only stand, we'll get together and stand. I guess it's really not about the run at all. It's about the friends. But luckily, we could all run yesterday.
Saturday's run included spotting a deer with an extremely long tail (could it have been a dog?), incredibly ADD conversations that were always caught up in diversions before they returned to the point (sorry Naj!), and a surprise reunion with one of our old running buddies (Yikes! A toad! said Richard as he leapt into the air like a male ballerina). We laughed at everything and nothing.
I love my running friends. They keep me sane.