How Blake Shelton Helped Me Take My Clothes Off (not literally, I swear, Miranda)

Sagging, bagging, wrinkles and all, I strive to love the body I occupy. I tell myself that it’s a good place to live in now, in this moment, and in every other moment past and future. I say that, I mean that, I embrace that…

…as long as my clothes are on.

When I want to de-stress, I take a bath. A long, hot bubble bath with candles and wine. I turn on my “Bath” playlist, and once everything’s assembled and the tub is filled, I quickly take off my clothes and slip under the suds.

One of the songs on the Bath playlist is Blake Shelton’s “Who Are You When I’m Not Looking?” Every time it comes on, Blake and I have a conversation.

Do you pour a little something on the rocks?

“I don’t drink the hard stuff, Blake, except a Maker’s Mark on occasion. But I confess I drink chardonnay on ice. Sometimes the boxed stuff. I’m culture with a side of pork rinds, my friend.”

Slide down the hallway in your socks?

“Well, I’m no Tom Cruise, but I do a pretty good lip sync to ‘Old Time Rock n’ Roll.’”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“Blake,” I say. “I imagine there’s a lot of freedom associated with undressing on my way to the bathroom and not in the bathroom with the door closed, lights low, and seconds before I hop in the tub.”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“I wish I could, Blake, but you see, I have this body image thing that’s hard to shake…”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“I feel pretty beat up, Blake, over this whole ‘body image’ thing. The last time I didn’t care about my body, I was in 5th grade, not yet wearing a bra and still happy to just fish bullheads out of Split Rock Creek.”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“I’ve never walked around my house in just my skivvies or less, Blake. Why, you ask? Do I really need to tell you this? OK, fine, I’m embarrassed to expose myself to even myself. I always wrap myself in robes or towels. Can we move on to the next question?”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“Why do you keep pressing this issue, Blake? Yeah, sure, I’ve always suspected there was something about walking around the house wearing only a bra and underwear. Something sexy. Something daring and freeing. But that’s not me, Blake. I’m not sexy or daring or carefree. I’m Lynn, Queen of Body Issues, remember.”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“What do you mean I was never appointed Queen of Body Issues? I pulled the body image equivalent of Excalibur out of a stone many years and many pounds ago, for cryin’ out loud! I’ve worked my whole adult life to defend my throne! Don’t tell me to abdicate!”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“Fine. I’m tired of arguing with you Blake. Next bath, I’ll leave a path. Will that make you happy? Good. Just promise you won’t look, OK? That would be a deal breaker. Promise me. PROMISE. OK…pinky swear works. It’s a deal.”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“I did it, Blake. I took that walk from the bedroom to the bubble bath, leaving a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, a bra, and my underwear in a path to the bath like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs. Sorry, but I left the socks for the bathroom. You know my feet are always cold.”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“I sunk to my nose in that bubble bath, and I reveled in the feeling of walking my body – in various stages of undress – to the bathroom. I had no idea that air cascading over my wrinkles and sags and bags and folds could feel so empowering!”

When you undress, do you leave a path? Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

“Yes, I do.”

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OM making changes.

DiZclaimer: This post is long & navel-gazing. Consider this yer warning to grab a snack & settle in or CLICK AWAY! CLICK AWAY! You decide.

On May the 6th at 915 I made a decision and I over-shared.

I wasnt yet a right angle—but I felt it coming on.

I also felt overwhelmed with brain-stuff (work, end of school year activities, planning for summer worktime & playtime) and *struggled* to turn my mind off at night.

As much as I longed to ignore it–my heart was telling me I needed yoga.

Not a yoga DVD.

Not a few downward dogs on my own.

I knew in my core (literal & figurative) I needed a yoga class in a structured, guided setting.

I kind of hate the classes.  They tend to stress me out.  My workout time is at the asscrack of dawn quite early & classes feel like an intrusion on my work-day.

My hamstrings and low-back **insisted** I needed this intrusion.

I announced.  I committed.  I was skeptical I’d follow through.

I hoped I would. I knew I needed it.  I still was uncertain.

Enter New Balance’s Anue yoga line.

It was right around this time they reached out and offered to send me a selection of apparel.  And, quite frankly, had it not been right.at.that.time, Id probably have passed.

Im in the place of striving for LESS STUFF not more.

Im paring down and passing along opportunities to others who might be a better fit.

Intellectually I  knew what I wore to yoga class wasnt  really important.  ANYTHING I owned would do.

I said yes to the items below quickfastandinahurry. 

Im a misfit.  Im not very zen. Im a weights-woman.  I possess the balance of a drunken frat boy. 

Whether it was entirely unnecessary or not I WANTED to have the proper external trappings for yoga given the fact I knew during a daytime class Id have the internal, decidedly NOT zen monkey-mind going.

I received the treats (so so so grateful for them).

I mentally committed to a yoga class that afternoon.

I out-loud announced my plan to the only other awake person in the domicile: The Tornado.

She looked at me quizzically (in her inimitable six year old way) & immediately informed me there was no need for a class.  She would teach me yoga.

Right then. In her pajamas. At 5 in the morning.

The pictures below were all orchestrated by her. 

The yoga sequence below made me realize, yet again, how frequently the best cure for my frazzle & the stress and the MIND OF A MONKEY comes simply from making the conscious choice to stop and be present.

Box O'New Balance TREATS.

"Do this!!"

"Mama why you so STILL?!"

"NOW THIS!!"

"0ooh I like!"

"Annnd open!"

"Feels nice!"

"And now relax. Do this."

OM.

(I realize this post is already too long.  More than you’d ever want to know about my return to yoga is coming soon.)

My question for you today is a simple one:

Have you ever felt the need for “proper apparel” for a fitness endeavor?  Did it feel to you—as it did to me–-a sort of ‘fake it till you make it’ at least I’ll appear ZEN look “right” sort of thing?

Or are you one who struts into every fitness situation knowing you own it &  proper apparel be damned?

These are the items pictured above: Dipped dress in blue. Soaring shell in purple.  Crop pant.  I wholly, completely and utterly loved all of them.  I covet them in their other colors now, too.  Comfy, quality breathable fabrics, amazing cut/style.  Questions on fit, sizing etc? HIT ME UP BELOW.

FTC the Anue clothing was free. The opinions & yoga-craziness are all my own.

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What Would Uncle George NOT Do?

Exercise has become so dull and predictable that I practically sleep through a workout. It’s the same old thing on the elliptical and recumbent – up and down, round and round, rote, like an actor playing Hamlet for the gazillionth time. I know every crack in the sidewalks around my neighborhood and every rut on the bike path. It’s Snoozapalooza!

It’s not that I’m slacking physically. I’m just not challenging myself psychologically through exercise, which is the very thing that makes exercise so important to my overall well being. Riding my bike in the same place, walking the same route, and reading books on my elliptical is safe. I like safe. There’s nothing wrong with safe. But safe can be pretty boring and unfulfilling.

I have no excuse other than complacency. I live near a park in which there are at 7 hiking trails, including 3.5 miles of the 35-mile Rachel Carson Trail. I take my grandkids to the playground there all the time, but I do little else than intend to hike there. Same is true for the infinite number of bike trails I’ve yet to discover in western PA. “Some day…”

My great-great-uncle George always used to say, “It’s plenty good the way it is!” George wore loose fitting dentures and had a heavy Norwegian accent, and he’d say “It’s plenty good!” with a dismissive wave of his hand. I loved George, but the man changed nothing. Not even his underwear. My mother used to sneak into his room and take his dirty clothes and wash them on the days he drove 35 miles to Sioux Falls to fill his tank because gas was two cents cheaper there.

I’m not knocking “plenty good.” Things ARE plenty good the way they are right now, but plenty good doesn’t translate to growth. And without growth, I would become complacent in more than just my exercise life. Good grief, the last thing I want to do is become that person who does nothing but talk about “the good old days.” That would be a big “Uffda!”

So last week, I got off my complacent butt and went to the park and hiked Pond Trail, which took me to…of all things…a pond. A really lovely pond with a wooden birding lookout made by a Boy Scout for his Eagle Scout project. It was a fairly easy hike, but the change of scenery was just enough to call out the part of me that welcomes and embraces change and challenge. That lead to this weekend in which I tried not one, but TWO new bike trails.

Saturday, I decided on a 13-mile stretch of the Allegheny Trail. I was a little nervous about it since I’d never been to the town where the trailhead was, and I didn’t want to look like a tourist. I wasn’t 100 percent sure (certainty is big for me) how to get to the parking lot described on the trail’s website, and Google was no help. So with nothing more than a good sense of direction, BF and I loaded the bikes and drove northeast.

A few miles in, Colton asked, “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Kind of,” I said, handing him the printed directions to the parking lot. “I can get us to instruction number 4, then you need to read the rest to me.”

“Ok, Puddin’,” he said. (That’s my nickname. Puddin’. No, you can’t call me that.)

As we got closer to the road to the parking lot, Colton said the directions were to drive past the entrance to the marina. What did I do? I drove into the entrance to the marina. Tourist! At least I turned around without running over the fisherman carrying a bucket of bait and an oar, and I eventually found the parking lot. We unloaded the bikes and started riding.

It started out pretty.

Then it got kind of industrial and urban.

When the trail stopped abruptly with no signs of where to go, I asked a biker who was coming the other way where the trail picked up. He said the next part of the trail went through town and that the gravel trail picked up at the power plant near the bridge. Goody. A bridge.

We followed his instructions and soon I could see the bridge in the distance.

Living here in the land of rivers, bridges are hard to avoid, so I suck them up and think happy thoughts when I’m driving over them or riding under them. Stopping to take photos was actually therapeutic. They’re concrete and steel, for cryin’ out loud. They aren’t going to grow legs and chase me, right?

We continued on into Kittanning.

Having passed – up close and personal – several bars and living rooms (there’s a stretch of trail in which the path itself is literally a front yard), we concluded we’d had enough urban and turned around at the 6.5-mile mark. We biked back to the car and agreed we were glad for the experience, but not enthralled. Too many people, too many roads, too many stop and starts.

Today, Colton wanted to head north of the Flannel Curtain to see his parents and do some work around their house. I really wanted to ride again, so I searched online for a trail near Meadville. I found the Ernst Trail, a rails-to-trails renovation that is 5 miles in one direction and runs along French Creek. No traffic, no towns. Perfect. Colton loaded up his hedge trimmers and I threw my bike on the rack and we were off.

I got to the trail at 2:45. It looked promising.

A quarter mile in, I was treated to this.

There was a slight incline all the way, which I knew would bring great coasting opportunities coming the other direction. And since the temperature was 86 degrees, the breeze would be welcomed.

The last quarter mile was steeper than the previous 4.75, and I had to downshift to 2. When I got to the top, I turned around and coasted down the hill. ‘You can do that again,’ I thought, and I downshifted and charged back up the hill. My thighs might hate me tomorrow, but the downhill was sooo worth it. I felt powerful. Best of all, I felt psychologically challenged again.

Tomorrow I’m going to hike a 2-mile loop in my local park. It is rated as easy-moderate, so I’ll probably do it twice. Or perhaps I’ll go back to the Pond Trail and do some bird watching. Either way, it will be my own personal mental-health-through-exercise adventure. Uncle George wouldn’t understand, but “plenty good” isn’t good enough anymore.

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I Have Some Exciting News!

…no, I’m not knocked up with pregnancy. That is NOT my news, so don’t even ask.

Yum Yucky is launching a brand new design this coming Monday for your eyeballs to gaze upon!

In order for this excitement to unfold, the blog will be down for maintenance most of the day this Sunday only. That’s the day I’ll be at work behind the scenes before the new design launches on Monday morning.

But there’s more!

“My Favorite Things Giveaway”

Yup. It’s been awhile, so let’s indulge in some Giveaway fun starting on Monday to celebrate the new look of the blog. I’m giving away prize packs of my favorite things.

Prizes will include:

ShakeologyGymboss Interval TimerGreedy delicious foodstuffsMy favorite workout DVD’s…and even more good stuff!

Thanks for being such a great fan of Yum Yucky. Yes, I’m talking to YOU! I look forward to bringing you more greediness (in moderation, of course), more fitness, more inspiration, and a whole lotta laughs and happy smiles in between.

See ya on Monday morning! Mwuah!

Josie

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Happy Memorial Day!

I’m going to bed. I ate WAY too much (wings, ice cream, chips, ugh) and now I feel…. bleh.

Really just.. bleh.

BUT… I had a great day and spend the most amazing weekend with the family.

Hope you had an awesome day.

‘Night!

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“What I Did On My Summer Vacation”

In grade school, we referred to the time between grades as “summer vacation.” It wasn’t defined by travel. It was simply time away from book learning. I’m many years removed from 6th grade, but next week at this time – god willing and the creek don’t rise and I pass my finals – I will be on “summer vacation.” In grade school, my only summer vacation plans were to sleep late and play flashlight tag as late as my parents would allow. My dad owned a grocery store, so of course I had to work, too. But it was a good gig and earned me enough money to afford as many Trixie Belden books and “Teen” and “Tiger Beat” magazines as I could read in three months.This year’s summer vacation plans are a bit different. I won’t be tearing out posters of Shaun Cassidy and hanging them on my bedroom wall, but I will still read as much as I can. I will also work in the soup kitchen, blog more regularly, help my daughter plan her wedding, and take my grandkids to the park. A LOT.I know. Shocking. But it’s something I get so dang excited about, it’s hard to explain. I know many of you know what I mean. You’ve found your “thing.” That something you never dreamed you’d love to do, let alone get all mentally wrapped up in.Biking is my thing, and every spring since discovering my love for biking, I get this angst of “What if?” I could never articulate it until I read “My Journey To Fit: A Forty-Something’s Weight Loss Journey” blog post yesterday. Shelley nailed my thoughts. I just substituted “bike” for “run.”Here’s what she wrote: "Run the mile you are in" - Runner's World posted that on their Facebook page yesterday, and it struck me: I seem to spend so much of my runs worrying about what's around the corner - the hill (ugh, so high!), the distance (ugh, so far!), the wind (ugh, so strong!), the heat and humidity (ugh, TEXAS!) that I tend to not focus on and better still, enjoy the moment.  Because I really DO love to run. I think it's just in my nature to want the circumstances to be perfect and easy...and we all know that doesn't happen very often when it comes to running! But I am going to work harder on the mental aspect of it, and just BE a runner and stop fighting everything else that comes with it.”What I will do on my summer vacation is all I noted before, PLUS, I will “just BE a biker and stop fighting everything else that comes with it” and bike the mile I’m in. There will be hills I’ll be slow to climb. There will be heat and humidity and I’ll smell bad and my hair will suck. There will be people on the path who don’t respect the rules. (Texting and biking? Seriously?) There will be flat tires.But there will also be birds and trees and the rich smells of the forest floor. Most important, there will be freedom. That’s why I love to ride my bike. When I ride, I’m free – for an hour or two – from the everyday minutia. I am focused only on me. Just me. Am I hydrated? Do I need to stop and stretch that muscle? Spit out a bug? That’s freedom, my friends. That’s quality “me time.”And speaking of “me time,” this weekend is the Pittsburgh Marathon. There will be thousands of folks out there concentrating on themselves for 3, 13 and 26 miles (plus a few yards), including my daughter Cassie, her husband Matt, Maintaining Diva Sondra, and my friends Jim and Kara. Good luck to them and to all of you doing your “thing” this weekend and every opportunity you have ! May you always live the mile you’re in.

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The Heart-Wrenching Process of Resisting Delectable, High Calorie Foodstuffs

I entered the cafe’.

Immediately became drawn to the high calorie, oooey-gooey mac & cheese.

Paced back and forth, to and fro, hovering around the mac & cheese station like a hungry beast.

Left the cafe’ with no mac & cheese. I’m empty-handed.

It took every bone in my stomach to resist the tasty, high calorie mac & cheese. It was a painful process that included several minutes of self-talk and convincing before I left the place. In-between each animalistic urge to place my order for the largest possible serving of mac & cheese, I kept reminding myself of all the hard work I put in earlier with those 2.5 of miles of sprint intervals. I dug deep in that training session. Did I really want to ruin that with one greedy moment of splendor?

The decision to NOT eat the mac & cheese was Excruciating. Heart-wrenching. It hurt so bad. These were physical feelings I actually felt in my body as I resisted the mac & cheese that my stomachs lusted for so badly. I was in a perceived state of food-convulsion.

So then I went back to my office and ate for lunch what I had planned ahead of time and packed earlier that morning: Baked sweet potato, Chobani Greek yogurt with some granola in it, and one-half of a choco chip cookie that I split with the husband.

Do not get it twisted. Delicious, high calorie foodstuffs do indeed have their place in my life, but planning my greedy moments works better than acting on impulse. Urges and impulses cause backward motion and lost ground. I’m done with that shit. Practice will never make perfect, but in time, you will get stronger and gain more control over those food impulses when you p-r-a-c-t-i-c-e.

Today was not the day for high calorie indulgence, my friend. But I do see a (planned) slice of Amy’s Organic Chocolate Cake in my near-future.

sha-bang-a-lang

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