- You need to eat LESS.
- You need to eat MORE.
- You need to watch your snacking.
- You need to lift weights.
- You need to add more aerobic activity.
- You need to eat less carbs.
- You need to have your thyroid checked.
- Blah blah blah blah...
And people will tell me, "Oh, but I'm sure it's MUSCLE." Honey, if this were ALL muscle, I would look like a GODDESS. I mean seriously. And my pants would probably fit again. But it isn't, and they don't.
SO. Here's the new plan: there IS no plan. No calorie counting, no diets, nothing except trying to eat healthy, not go overboard, and keep my activity level at least where it is. I have turned my attentions to another goal, another obsession -- Ihor, my Ukrainian drill sergeant, and trying to not feel like a redheaded stepchild every time I come out of my dance lesson. (If you're wondering how to promounce that, think an internet prostitute, adn I'm sure you're work it out correctly.) He asked me to compete in this year's Harvest Moon Classic. I said no, mostly because it's ungodly expensive -- starting with the $300 entry fee, and the $60 dance fee for a minute and a half for each dance. (Keep in mind this is one of the CHEAP competitions.) But then I went to watch, and realized where he wants me to be. And I'm nowhere near that good.
I also realized that if my technique were better, he would spend less time drilling me on basics and more time on teaching me cool stuff. And that would also be a better use of my time with him. So what I've been doing is going to the gym as much as I can, and working on drilling basic CRAP over and over until I either "get it" or get sick of it. But it's really hard to get sick of samba music. Or salsa. Or cha-cha. Rumba too. Ooooh, the TANGO. Did I mention waltz? Much better than watching Rachel Ray or The Andy Griffith Show (no, I'm not kidding) for the five-hundredth time while my eyes glaze over on the elliptical. Or while going around the track for the eighth time, only to realize that's only four miles. Much better use of my allotted nursery time, I think.
I can also work on my posture -- on which I get lectured on endlessly. Okay, it's less of a lecture and more of a surprise sharp poke to the ribs with a Ukrainian behind me scaring the crap out of me yelling, "SHAPE UP!!" It's not awful, but it's really irritating. And it'd be really nice to have my instructor not say after a dance, "That was GREAT! Except your posture was TERRIBLE."
My arm styling too is fairly lousy, since I'm terrified to do anything with my arms. I don't know why, I just am. Oh, and I'm not exaggerating. One of the other teachers had me for a one-time lesson, and his words were, "Your arm styling? It is terrible." I think that was about two years ago or so. A little less. So at least now, I can take some time to work on it and get more comfortable with it.
I think I have also discovered my inner hippie. I started poi or "spinning." I picked it up a little in martial arts in college and always liked it. Then a few weeks ago, I saw a group of performers called Thee Inner Cirkus at a bellydancing show, and loved it! So I picked up some practice poi and have spent a few days this week and last trying not to give myself a concussion or brain damage. I may even start hoola-hooping. The hoop girls were FANTASTIC. They could do such amazing things with a hoola-hoop. It was insane.
So there you have it. I'm dropping one obsession to spend more time on another. I don't know what it'll do for me, if it'll help me accomplish previous goals, but hey, at least I'll have a good time with it. So anyway, we'll see how it goes. Hopefully my husband won't kill me when I ask for a $30 "professional" hoola-hoop.