<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135</id><updated>2011-10-26T10:27:28.294-07:00</updated><category term='women'/><category term='snacks'/><category term='bikram yoga'/><category term='scale'/><category term='mind and body'/><category term='movies'/><category term='weight loss'/><category term='eating'/><category term='family'/><category term='measurement'/><category term='body conscious'/><category term='hip hop'/><category term='sex life'/><category term='dance'/><category term='weight'/><category term='gym experience'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>30 by 30</title><subtitle type='html'>The magical journey of one woman on her way out of pound purgatory.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-2638141933219127673</id><published>2009-03-19T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T12:16:34.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not gonna make it....</title><content type='html'>So the title of my blog is 30 x 30, because the point was to lose thirty pounds by the time I turned thirty...April 20. I'm not going to make it. It's kinda sad, it was a totally reasonable goal at the time I made it. Now I've only lost about five pounds since then. So, yeah. Not gonna make it with less than a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should change it. 30 x 31??? Doesn't have quite the same ring to it. I've been struggling again with my eating and not doing the BDS, even though I still think it's a great way to go. I don't know what to say about my inability to keep it central in my mind. It's like I have a switch in my brain that I just turn off when I want to eat some ridiculous food...need to find, kill the switch. Break it so that I always remember every frickin' thing that goes in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'll change the name of the blog...it's not really read by anyone except for me, so what's the point? But I will say that I want to get back on track and lose another five pounds before my birthday...go me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-2638141933219127673?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/2638141933219127673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=2638141933219127673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/2638141933219127673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/2638141933219127673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-gonna-make-it.html' title='Not gonna make it....'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-4491068645130667906</id><published>2009-03-11T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T11:42:14.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dieting vs. Working Out</title><content type='html'>Is one always easier than the other? For me, dieting is one long-ass struggle against my inner glutton. I will probably never be the type of person who sits down to a meal of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables and says, "yum." I will be the one who is thinking about the possible procurement of ice cream. Which makes it hard when I tell myself "no."&lt;br /&gt;Working out, being active on the other hand is like a gift. A shiny, mind-calming gift I allow myself to open. I like feeling strong. I like pushing myself and breathing heavily. Last night I went swimming for the first time in a while. I totally relished the feeling of shooting off the wall after a turn, cutting through the water and feeling the quivering in my arms after a sprint lap. I am not a particularly fast swimmer, but I am a good one. I love the way the water holds me up. It's such a huge difference from the way I feel when I'm walking or running, fighting gravity and wishing for smaller boobs.&lt;br /&gt;So how can I merge the two? How can I get the same feeling from eating healthily for a day or a week? And how do I sustain the feeling?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-4491068645130667906?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/4491068645130667906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=4491068645130667906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4491068645130667906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4491068645130667906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/03/dieting-vs-working-out.html' title='Dieting vs. Working Out'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-5615497816149762786</id><published>2009-02-25T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T13:07:22.352-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My neck...my back...my neck and my back!</title><content type='html'>Baaahhh! For the last two, three, four days I've been all crappy feeling! My back has twisted itself into a ball of tight crankiness, an innocent (really!) bed wrestling match resulted in my shoulder feeling as is it is off its hinges and making a snap crackle pop and BAaaahhh! The same bed wrestling match also resulted in a head-butting, but my brow bone has held up well - no bruising or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I feel like this, when my body hurts and what would probably help would be to do some light exercising and stretching, instead all I wanna do is eat some chocolate. And then some cheese. And then more chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whhhhhyyyyyy? Oh whhhayyyy? Why can't I stop whining?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-5615497816149762786?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/5615497816149762786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=5615497816149762786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/5615497816149762786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/5615497816149762786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-neckmy-backmy-neck-and-my-back.html' title='My neck...my back...my neck and my back!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-76111469458348702</id><published>2009-02-11T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T14:47:05.905-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex life'/><title type='text'>On Romance</title><content type='html'>With Valentine's Day coming up, it's almost impossible to escape the romance-think. Even though my husband and I aren't the V-day types, I do have a couple of thoughts on the subject...&lt;br /&gt;Feeling sexy and being comfortable naked are a major motivator for me to lose weight. I've never been the "only in the dark under the covers" kinda girl, but there's no doubt that feeling fat is a major turn-off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For our year anniversary, adventure-boy (the husband) and I went to a scrumptious dinner at a local French-inspired restaurant. The meal was amazing: a cheese course, truffle-oil laced fresh pasta with mushrooms and other various indulgences.  I think we skipped dessert, but the richness of the meal had already done the damage...I was stuffed, uncomfortably so, and all I could think about was going home, getting in my pj's and going to bed. Sans sex. As much as I wanted to continue the celebration, I felt physically and psychologically ill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the flip side, since I've started to lose a little weight and feel better about my body both in and outside of pants, our sex life has, ahem, perked up. Maybe it's me. But I know that I've felt more desirable and been desired more in the last couple of months than in the months preceding. It's a nice feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-76111469458348702?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/76111469458348702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=76111469458348702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/76111469458348702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/76111469458348702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-romance.html' title='On Romance'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-7848206682609855447</id><published>2009-02-05T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T11:50:53.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I planning to fail?</title><content type='html'>There are certain things recommended in BDS that I've taken to heart: eating mindfully while sitting, eating to 80% full, strengthening my resistance muscle and others. I'm really struggling with writing a food plan. I haven't done it, not once. I plan in my head, a little, and do very well with breakfast and lunch, but planning dinner ahead is a huge stumbling block for me. As a result, I'm eating more and not as well at night. Last night I mushed together a "What do I want to eat now?" meal after I was done working out, and I ended up ploughing through waaayyy too much bread. Whole grain, yummy artisan bakery bread, but still. Not the dieting choice. And not something I would have planned for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I hereby resolve to suck it up and make a plan for tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-7848206682609855447?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/7848206682609855447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=7848206682609855447' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/7848206682609855447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/7848206682609855447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/02/am-i-planning-to-fail.html' title='Am I planning to fail?'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-4161781678414032001</id><published>2009-01-28T17:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T17:39:48.159-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight'/><title type='text'>First stumble...and some explanation</title><content type='html'>OK, so I went home, or rather, to my sister's home, outside of DC last week. It wasn't the most stellar of diet experiences. To be fair to myself, I was somewhat beholden to what the rest of the household was eating. To be honest, I still could have done better. To be fair, I didn't overindulge or stuff myself like crazy. To be honest, I didn't have to mainline the wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's a lot of fairness and honesty there. Stumbles included too much takeout in the form of burgers and burritos. There's a serious lack of fresh fruit in my sister's house. I like fruit, and I turn to it often for snacking. Victories include that I split most of the "bad" dishes and stayed pretty conscious of what I was eating. Best of all, I got back on the wagon as soon as I got home. And I only gained about 1 pound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that was startling? I've become pretty clued in recently to where this body struggle of mine has come from. Still, I was shocked to hear some of the things that my mother and sister say about theirs. My mother is almost 60 years old, and she's beautiful and in pretty damn good shape. She's got great legs, toned arms and a killer smile. Yet all she sees are flaws. It is so sad and so scary. My sister, who has always been naturally thin, is carrying, oh, probably five pounds more than she wants to on her frame, and refers to herself as fat. And my grandmother? In incredible shape at 82, spry and fit, was crowing over a 2-pound weight loss &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;after being sick for a week.&lt;/span&gt; Granted, she was saying it was because she had stopped drinking her glass of wine each night. But still.  So part of me thought "then what must they think of me?" So I let them in on the dieting...and about how much I weigh. The next morning, we were playing with my nephew in the basement, and I pointed to one of the small blue chairs he has in his playroom and asked, "Can those support the weight of an adult?" My mom laughed and said that she'd sat on them, but didn't know about me and raised an eyebrow. I. Could. Hardly. Believe. It. And it hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the whole sanity part of this? Maybe even more important than I realized.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-4161781678414032001?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/4161781678414032001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=4161781678414032001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4161781678414032001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4161781678414032001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-stumbleand-some-explanation.html' title='First stumble...and some explanation'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-1348413654603609329</id><published>2009-01-13T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T12:47:37.628-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gym experience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight loss'/><title type='text'>The Gym in January + Random Thoughts.</title><content type='html'>I think it's hilarious the 0-60 the gym population takes in January. I also find it inconvenient, as I wiggle past the guy doing shrugs (such a guys-only move) and pardon my way around the bench pressers to get to the water fountain, then turn around and do it all again. Then I have to duck under the Smith machine because there's someone doing squats on the other side and run back to my mat before someone sneaks into my place. Can I count that as part of my workout?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, it has been unseasonably warm for the last few days (hurrah!) and today I pulled myself out of bed to go for a raunk (run/walk) around the breakwall ~ the sun was coming up and it was all beautiful and fresh and the world was alive I tell you! And there were lots of older people to say "good morning" to and wonder whether or not I was actually screaming "GOOD MORNING" to them becuase I had my headphones on and was jammin'. But at least I was polite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, I weighed myself last night and I weighed one pound more than I did last Thursday, but last Thursday I had lost five pounds in a week so I was wondering whether or not that could really be true. So although my heart broke a little bit when I stepped on the scale last night, I still have lost four pounds in January! And it's only halfway through the month! So that's very exciting.  Viva la BDS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-1348413654603609329?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/1348413654603609329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=1348413654603609329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/1348413654603609329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/1348413654603609329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/01/gym-in-january-random-thoughts.html' title='The Gym in January + Random Thoughts.'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-3481789682911240793</id><published>2009-01-08T13:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T14:03:35.786-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mind and body'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight loss'/><title type='text'>Let's Talk About It</title><content type='html'>I think one of the hardest things about Beck's Diet Solution (hereby referred to as BDS) is the diet coach requirement. It was something I hemmed and hawed over, briefly considered skipping, and ultimately chose my husband to fulfill the role. He's taken to it, which is endearing. We'd talk about food all the time anyway, discussing what we'd have for dinner, breakfast, which pie we'd have for dessert, etc. so in a way it's not all that foreign. I just hope I don't end up hating him the day he asks me how my diet has been and I am forced to respond that I inhaled three muffins that someone brought in to work and stopped for In-n-Out on the way home because I was in a dismal state. That's the hard thing - when you tell people you're dieting, they know. THEY KNOW. They know that those garlic fries are not part of your plan. And then they remind you of that fact. And then you hate them along with yourself. That is unproductive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this because the last time I told someone I was dieting, and asked for their help, it is what happened. And I overate spitefully. I still remember that, and it has been 10 years. The food in question was either jalepeno poppers with cream cheese inside or tortilla chips with salsa and sour cream. The boyfriend was not really forgiven. I felt crappy and fat and it was a disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why have I chosen my husband? It's simple - he's the closest to me. I can't lie. I can't avoid him (at least not for very long). And I think he can help. And I believe the BDS can change my brain. Not so that I will never have a over-indulgent day, but that I will be able to look at the day as such (just one day), and move on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-3481789682911240793?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/3481789682911240793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=3481789682911240793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/3481789682911240793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/3481789682911240793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/01/lets-talk-about-it.html' title='Let&apos;s Talk About It'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-6654942881451223716</id><published>2009-01-05T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T16:36:00.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Credit</title><content type='html'>I think I'm on day 6 (maybe 7) of the Beck's Diet Solution. I have done all my homework. I have written things down and eaten meals slowly and mindfully and I have given myself credit. At a dinner out with friends, I took one tiny taste of a shared tiramisu, and smugly winked at the old me that was wringing her mental hands and keeping spoon aloft to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;make sure nobody got any more&lt;/span&gt; than her.&lt;br /&gt;I am feeling really good about this whole thing. A little silly, yes, what with all the notetaking and whatnot but powerful and in control. I really think I've flipped a switch.&lt;br /&gt;One of the things that resonates with me a LOT is the feeling of it's not fair. It's not fair that I can't eat what I want all the time. It's not fair that delicious things like cookies and port salut cheese are not as nutritionally virtuous as broccoli and raw almonds. It's not fair that _______ gets to eat _______ and is still thin. And Beck pretty much kicks that shit to the curb. Basically, one can dwell on those things, or they can say, "well, I can't. I can't do those things and look how I want to look." And then she points out something else: most thin people are trying, that they watch what they eat very carefully.  That made me stop and think a minute.  While this may not apply to my over-metabolized, muscled, ball-of-energy husband who never met a calorie he didn't like, it actually does apply to most of my friends, who are mostly pretty trim. They don't eat like I eat. &lt;br /&gt;Case in point: My very very thin best friend, J. Lives in Hollywood, and is out-skinnying many of the models and actresses there. Yes, she's naturally thin. Yes, she can and has put down a pint of ice cream during a movie. But most of the time, she eats very healthfully. Egg whites and veggies, tomato slices instead of potatoes, and vodka sodas. Well, that last one is not necessarily healthy, but it's sure lower in calories than my pint of IPA.&lt;br /&gt;2nd Case in point: My "why couldn't I have been built that way" sister. She used to say that she ate what was basically the slim-fast diet because she was too busy during the day to fix meals. I call bullshit. She doesn't always watch what she eats all the time, doesn't turn down a treat, but she also doesn't eat that much. There's always food left over on her plate. I've looked down after I sopped up ketchup with my last fry to see half of her burger still on her plate, with potato accompaniment. She's satisfied, and I'm stuffed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe it's not fair. Maybe it's going to be hard. But it's worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-6654942881451223716?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/6654942881451223716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=6654942881451223716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6654942881451223716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6654942881451223716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2009/01/credit.html' title='Credit'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-6272495493357772665</id><published>2008-12-31T15:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T15:36:01.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beck's Diet Solution - for me?</title><content type='html'>I picked up this book at the library last night. It's one that's been in my consciousness for a while. I even looked at it once and thought - wow, that seems like a lot of work - and put it down. But it's a six-week program that promises to change the way I think about eating, and that sounds like a giant relief.  So I am willing to do a little work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way it's laid out is that there's a step to do each day, or attempt to do until it's mastered. The first day was to write on a notecard the reasons why I want to lose weight. Here's what I came up with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I want to look strong &amp;amp; sexy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I will be able to wear cooler clothes and shop in boutiques!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I will be able to stop worrying about my weight.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I will conquer my food issues.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nakedness.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Pretty succinct, but how glorious would it be to really stop worrying about my weight, stop watching it creep up, stop thinking about food as, alternately a dangerous and wily enemy and cuddly source of nuturing love and numbness? Pretty glorious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-6272495493357772665?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/6272495493357772665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=6272495493357772665' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6272495493357772665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6272495493357772665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/12/becks-diet-solution-for-me.html' title='Beck&apos;s Diet Solution - for me?'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-860412192479420961</id><published>2008-12-30T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T17:20:22.137-08:00</updated><title type='text'>late lunch</title><content type='html'>tuna melt&lt;br /&gt;greens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey look what i can do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, nevermind, I was going to post the label for my tuna melt that I created on Nutritiondata.com but apparently that's a no-no. The site is pretty sweet, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, it says my tuna melt has 361 calories. Yum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-860412192479420961?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/860412192479420961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=860412192479420961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/860412192479420961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/860412192479420961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/12/late-lunch.html' title='late lunch'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-6087343575514865955</id><published>2008-12-30T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T11:59:22.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission Success.</title><content type='html'>WILL. BE. MINE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am done. Done with my own excuses. Success begins now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-6087343575514865955?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/6087343575514865955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=6087343575514865955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6087343575514865955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6087343575514865955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/12/mission-success.html' title='Mission Success.'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-5746403445985952655</id><published>2008-12-30T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T11:57:40.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am on a mission of failure</title><content type='html'>So this was supposed to be it. The time that I finally got my shit together and really stopped eating like a fool and actually lost weight. I made it the title of my blog! I have a statement! I am supposed to lose 30 pounds by my 30th Birthday. And I haven't lost any. Not one. Or I have, maybe one or two, and then I promptly gained them back. I'm teetering on the edge of 200 pounds. That's fucking scary. And it seems like such a long way back to where I was just a few years ago. When I moved out to LA, I weighed about 175. That's how I still think of myself, and yet I'm getting further from there, like every month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom and sister and I are going to Key West for my 30th Birthday. It's hot there. I will likely have to wear a bathing suit. I want to like the way I look in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My online food diary:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coffee, 16 oz with 2 packets raw sugar and 1/2 &amp;amp;1/2&lt;br /&gt;Oatmeal - one packet with 6 walnut halves, chopped.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-5746403445985952655?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/5746403445985952655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=5746403445985952655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/5746403445985952655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/5746403445985952655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-am-on-mission-of-failure.html' title='I am on a mission of failure'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-3100506176876208367</id><published>2008-12-22T11:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T12:10:55.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Detox Week!</title><content type='html'>Last week I ate no meat, dairy or sugar or white flour and consumed no alcohol for FIVE WHOLE DAYS! Well, almost. I broke the detox at 7ish on Friday at husband's work Xmas party. It did feel pretty good, though. Healthy, but kinda difficult. I'm a cream and sugar in my coffee kinda gal. I love cheese. Focusing on bringing lots of fruits, veggies and whole grains into my diet was good. I made quinoa for the first time. It was pretty tasty, like couscous only with a distinct nuttiness. I had sauteed spinach for the first time in ages, I'd forgotten how much I love it. I think I had more veggies in the last week than in the last month. And a lot of soy, which reminded me how I survived seven years as a vegetarian.  &lt;br /&gt;Then the weekend came. Why can I not be trusted around baked goods? Why do I follow something less than ideally healthy with more less than ideally healthy food? Do i just need to follow the sort of strict eating plan I concocted last week? It honestly felt good. I allowed myself to be a little hungry. I didn't focus on chocolate of sugary stuff because I wasn't going to eat it. I wan't allowed. Could I do that for a longer time? Could I do that forever? Would it be worth it? Why am I asking so many questions to the empty empty interwebs? I know who I should be asking. Me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-3100506176876208367?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/3100506176876208367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=3100506176876208367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/3100506176876208367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/3100506176876208367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/12/detox-week.html' title='Detox Week!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-3099155457345262358</id><published>2008-12-05T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T09:12:48.947-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='body conscious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hip hop'/><title type='text'>Hip-hop pottomus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mar1lyn84/2193899462/" title="Vector Dance by Sabrina Campagna, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2185/2193899462_eca6bba9b9.jpg" width="459" height="500" alt="Vector Dance" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photo by Sabrina Campagna via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;Last night, I went with a friend to a long-discussed hip hop class. At a real-live dance studio. With real dancers. It was a blast. I haven't danced on a regular basis since high school, when my career in musicals was cut short by the director's unfortunate choice of "My Fair Lady" as my senior-year musical. I had campaigned for "Grease," having wanted to play Rizzo forevah. Nary a jazz hand since. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Although the dancers last night were almost all - ok maybe all - better and smoother and hip-hoppier than I am, it was great to move my body like that. To allow it to have some attitude, and a little sexiness. It felt great to sweat unconsciously, because I was just trying to keep up, to learn the next move.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I was, however, extremely body-conscious. I was in a room full of people who take dance pretty seriously, and their bodies show it. They were thin, strong, beautiful. I felt rather huge and clumsy in comparison. Granted, even at the thinnest I would ever want to be, I'd still be way bigger than most of those girls, and several of the guys. I'm 5'9", built like I should be pushing a plow through a giant field of wheat. So whatever. I know that, and mostly it's ok. I just miss the feeling of being at home in my body. I almost never do. Right now, it just feels like too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The teacher last night was great. Complimentary without being schmaltzy, with enviable moves and attitude. I can't wait to go back to her class, which I'll definitely do soon. Until then, I'll practice my pop and um...little groove.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-3099155457345262358?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/3099155457345262358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=3099155457345262358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/3099155457345262358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/3099155457345262358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/12/hip-hop-pottomus.html' title='Hip-hop pottomus'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2185/2193899462_eca6bba9b9_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-8558790428220028015</id><published>2008-11-19T11:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T12:08:48.772-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pedal perfection</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bernatcg/2509946461/" title="the lonely bicycle by Bern@t, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2295/2509946461_05f8034df8.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="the lonely bicycle" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am inordinately fond of riding my bicycle. It's my favorite form of transportation, and makes me feel strong and capable when I'm flying across the ground under my own power. Last year I commuted to work on my bike a lot, twelve miles and one huge hill each way, and I loved it. Then my office moved away from its bucolic setting and into the big town, and I don't get to do that anymore. It's too far. But sometimes I ride through the hills near home, all the way to the bus that takes me to work. It's about an hour's ride, and that's what I did yesterday morning. It was so nice, an hour of sunshine and breeze and jelly legs and lost breath, and I LOVED IT! I'm officially adding it to the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;routine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Here's the routine:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;2 days a week, at the gym strength, abs, cardio circuit loosely based on the Jillian Michaels 30-day Shred thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;One day run or bike or other cardio.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Throw in some yoga here and there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-8558790428220028015?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/8558790428220028015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=8558790428220028015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/8558790428220028015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/8558790428220028015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/11/pedal-perfection.html' title='Pedal perfection'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2295/2509946461_05f8034df8_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-4151636526912607843</id><published>2008-11-12T08:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T12:26:14.258-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gymerrific</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Or gym horrific? I've been around ze gyms for much of my adult life. I was an 11 pm regular in college, working out alongside the other night owls. I was the assistant manager of a huge Gold's Gym where my duties really involved no more than having my own set o' keys and operation of the smoothie station and protein drinks. I worked in the sad underground gyms of the corporate fitness world, where workers would come to me on their lunch hour or four (hey, it was a government office building) and I'd whip them into shape. So I'm no stranger to the ins and outs of the somewhat strange world of fitness facilities.&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to now, I'm living in California where it would be a right crime to stuff yourself into one of these places for most of the year. The weather is balmy, and the outdoor activities to immerse oneself in are endless. However, now that it's getting dark out at precisely 5:23 in the evening, and me having a slight and sometimes not-so-slight pain in my knee problem, I've headed in. But I cancelled my gym membership in the spring and was never too impressed with the facility to start, so I've taken advantage of the fact that I am a military wife and using the gym at the big Coast Guard training center near my work. It's a nice little gym, with clean locker rooms and good equipment. BUT. There is something disconcerting about it. I can't quite put my finger on it...&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait, yes I can. The vast majority of those whom I sweat and breathe heavily and curse when I drop a weight on my toe around are all about 19 years old and quite assuredly male. I am a hen in roosterville. So my comfort level is, well, stretched. And I'm self-conscious. Not a ton, but some. I told a friend of mine and she said she would be horrified and likely never return.&lt;br /&gt;So what's the perfect gym? And how do others influence your gym experience?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-4151636526912607843?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/4151636526912607843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=4151636526912607843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4151636526912607843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4151636526912607843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/11/gymerrific.html' title='Gymerrific'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-845389999078329765</id><published>2008-11-05T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T14:12:16.286-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bikram yoga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Woe is the weekend, wee is today!</title><content type='html'>So this last weekend was a bit of a disaster. My man was home, we went over to friends' places, where I had not much control over what I ate, and didn't do my part in controlling how much I ate. Oatmeal cookies and garlic bread were involved. Yipes. This is one of my central issues. How do I function in a world that is so full of scary food situations? How do I plan? How do I dodge the traps and pitfalls? How do I say no to cheese fondue on one of the civically happiest nights of my life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a positive note, I am doing well in the exercise department. I've been going to the gym and doing some weights and interval things - jumping rope, jumping jacks, etc. I also signed up for a month at a Bikram yoga and took my first class on Saturday. It's not my first yoga class, but I was shocked at how different it felt than any other type of exercise/torture I've ever gone through. It was a challenge. It was sweaty and overwhelming, but I'm looking forward to getting to another class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I weighed myself, and am down a pound from the week before. But that week I was up two pounds from the week before &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;. Eh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-845389999078329765?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/845389999078329765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=845389999078329765' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/845389999078329765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/845389999078329765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/11/woe-is-weekend-wee-is-today.html' title='Woe is the weekend, wee is today!'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-6591246551540387639</id><published>2008-10-31T08:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T09:18:01.190-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snacks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight loss'/><title type='text'>Movie Madness - I score.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sixteenmilesofstring/260384358/" title="state theatre by tvol, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/91/260384358_5d869e7fcc.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="state theatre" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went to see a movie last night - Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. It was pretty good, Michael Cera is adorable, and the soundtrack had me boppin around in my seat most of the film. I love the movie ritual, and part of that ritual for me has always been the popcorn-soft drink-candy unholy trio. So, in a play to be more prepared, and plan! Plan! Plan! I grabbed a flavored seltzer and a couple of fruit leathers, which have an unfortunate name, but are basically just mashed dried fruit, reminiscent of the roll-ups I was always jealous other kids had in their lunchboxes. At 45 calories each, a bargain! I also have in my purse a tin of Sweetriot, a chocolate candy that is basically a cacao nib dunked in dark chocolate. Yum. So I got to the movie, sat down, cracked open the seltzer which promptly exploded on my pants (a stunt likely facilitated by the "no outside food or beverages" troll who is employed by movie theater - what you've never seen him?) and sipped away. I had a couple of Sweetriot candies (picture chocolate nerds) and really enjoyed the movie. I didn't feel sick when I left the theatre, whereas I'm often reeling from a sugar high/crash. Yay me. Score one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-6591246551540387639?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/6591246551540387639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=6591246551540387639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6591246551540387639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/6591246551540387639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/10/movie-madness-i-score.html' title='Movie Madness - I score.'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/91/260384358_5d869e7fcc_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-4794506858123684412</id><published>2008-10-30T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T11:57:39.277-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='measurement'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scale'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight'/><title type='text'>Taking my full measure</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What are the numbers that matter? This blog is defined by two round sums...my age and the number of pounds I'll be shedding. There are so many numerical indicators of health out there...blood pressure, cholesterol, resting heartrate, VO2 max, BMI, body fat percentage, etc. It's enough to make a math geek jump for joy, but I think the rest of us get a little overwhelmed. But in order to keep a reckoning, I'd like to have a couple of values that I can check up on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in addition to my weight, I'm going to locate a measuring tape and keep an eye on my measurements in the bust, belly and booty regions. I also want to know about my metabolism, so I'm going to research how to find a reliable testing method that hopefully doesn't break the bank. Any suggestions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More on my numbers next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-4794506858123684412?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/4794506858123684412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=4794506858123684412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4794506858123684412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/4794506858123684412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/10/taking-my-full-measure.html' title='Taking my full measure'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8585679844981792135.post-8607807580904772012</id><published>2008-10-29T13:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T14:04:17.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission Statement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;To lose thirty pounds by my 30th birthday...and I only have ten days! I'm cutting off a leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I have about six months, so I feel a measure of confidence that I can do this. I have no coaches, no sponsors and no nutritionist to back me up. What I do have is a pretty good idea what it takes. I've been a fitness instructor, I've taken nutrition classes, I'm not looking for a magic pill or drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My problem is food. I love it. I love cooking and eating and trying new things. I love cheese and butter and bread and chocolate. I feel like without these things, life is questionable in its worthiness. But it's a love affair gone all haywire - Fatal Attraction style, there needs to be some control exerted. By me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8585679844981792135-8607807580904772012?l=thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/feeds/8607807580904772012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8585679844981792135&amp;postID=8607807580904772012' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/8607807580904772012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8585679844981792135/posts/default/8607807580904772012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thirtybythirty-30x30.blogspot.com/2008/10/mission-statement.html' title='Mission Statement'/><author><name>Amanda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bfVyibJvZxo/SYZ6g68aJMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/8pJC04Qo4BU/S220/cartwheel.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
