another annoying “why i use a personal trainer” blog.

so. if you have been stalking me for any length of time, you know after the big BU last year, my sister bought me 6 weeks with her personal trainer. the initial point was “skinny is the best revenge” but the sub plot was “maybe it will keep your head out of the oven”. what i didnt realize was how much it would change how i feel. physically and mentally.

i’ll start right off by saying i’m a trainers nightmare. i whine. a lot. i also drink a lot. and not like water and tea, but like beer. good beer. in fact, that was what got me into the mess in the first place. i discovered craft beer a few years ago and that was chris and I’s primary source of entertainment for 4 years. some people chase tornadoes, we chased good beer. we planed trips solely around good beer. it was beyond a hobby it was a lifestyle. but what happens when you drink good beer. at 250-350 calories per beer? well you put on weight. and i packed on a solid 20 extra pounds of beer weight.

so my goal was to get that weight OFF. well. let me tell you. the difference between being 20, or 30 and being 40! is huge. i used to think ‘gosh i wish i could lose 10 lbs’ and i’d wake up the next day 10 lbs thinner. ok, maybe thats an exaggeration but really. it was so much easier. also, as a former gymnast, i hadnt done much of any physical activity other than chasing kids around for the last 20 years. so not only had i added weight, but i have a LOT of physical issues from my former athletic life. and with all this, i started working with Jason.

so a year later, and a pretty inconsistent schedule, this is what i know. if i’m going to really make drastic changes i had to let go of the beer. outside of my vacation i’ve largely let go of the beer/vodka nightcap. despite my reluctance to give that up my body HAS changed. that wavy arm thing you notice when you blow dry your hair and you look in the mirror and go “oh my god i have Oprah arm?”  gone. i’m hella stronger. i’ve always been something akin to an ant where i can move furniture 6x my size, but i notice it in different ways. like cutting down Coopers branch last summer running a chain saw above my head. my arms didnt quiver or shake. i felt like a bad ass.

i’m no runner but i can run or bike much longer distances, my muscles are simply strong! i see a definition in my back and shoulders that wasnt there a year ago. but the best best best part is that my back is better. jason works with me every time im in to strengthen my back and makes sure i am STRETCHING properly for my particular issues. this is fundamental.

the one thing i know. for 100% sure. is i would NEVER push myself as hard as he does, and i would never hold myself accountable like he does. its not my nature. obviously.

I still have a long way to go, to get the 40 year old body i’d like to have. but i had to take the final step and make some choices to let some calories go to do it. and i’d have never been able to do any of it without a personal champion coaching me.

for those of you who are wanting to make serious changes, i can not recommend enough, working personally with a trainer. either for a short time to get you rolling, or ongoing to help you get to your goal. I’m not sure i’d have ever done it if my sister hadnt started me on the path, but im so so thankful to have had this last year and look forward to continuing my journey to a healthier, fitter life.

oh, and on days when i want to strangle pretty much anyone and everything, exercise is simply the best stress relief. i think its the wanting to die for 50 minutes and the relief that you didnt that makes you able to cope with society again. whatever, it works!


Im gradually going to be bringing some of my older pieces from blogspot over here. This is from August of 2011.

so. i’ve been wanting to write my daughter a letter that sort of sums up everything i’m feeling about her leaving for school. more like how i feel about her graduating from hs. going to college and essentially being an adult.  but I found i’ve been unable to write. i think of it and my throat tightens up and the tears start and i cant get anything started. so if i was going to write a letter to my daughter, here are some things I would say.

i’m sorry. i’m sorry for all the things i wanted to give you and couldnt. like parents who had their shit together. who stayed married and bought you matching furniture. parents who didnt yell or cuss. im sorry i didnt bake cookies more, and i’m sorry i didnt let you help. i’m sorry i hated messes and yelled about socks.  i’m sorry i could never afford that canopy bed you wanted, with the pink top and the netting. 100 times in my head i redecorated your room with fairies and sparkles and every month the bills piled up and it never happened.
im sorry when you were goofy i told you to settle down. i’m sorry when you were loud i told you to be quiet. im sorry when we were in disney and you threw a fit we taped it because you were hysterical. : ) im sorry you had to grow up so fast.
i wanted to be the perfect parent, and i wasnt. i made bad choices sometimes. i let my own problems take me away from my children sometimes. i wanted to give you everything i had, but sometimes i didnt have much left.

im proud. im proud of every single thing you do. i was proud the first time you said SHIT at 18 months because you used it properly in a sentence. i was proud when you were 6 in gymnastics and couldnt point your feet. i was proud you tried soccer and baseball and ballet. i was proud of the times you stood up to me. called me out and demanded more of me. i am proud of the sister you are. you are their second mother and you did a good job. i was proud of you at 11 for taking care of two little boys. and doing it well. i’m proud of how you stuck to what you believed in and didnt let peer pressure change you. I’m proud of your self confidence (while you think you lack it) and the way you walk through life with your shoulders thrown back (metaphorically, stand up STRAIGHT!) : ) Im proud of all the things you accomplished in HS, from speech to editor and all the days spent after school getting extra help with your studies. you amaze me in your tenacity.

im excited. i’m excited to see what your future holds. to see how you maneuver through college. you will be so homesick. but you will be ok. im excited to hear about your classes and your friends. i’m excited to see what life path you choose. i’m excited to see you go off and be a kid. and i hope you will throw yourself head first into digging in and enjoying your life. putting your needs and your wants at the forefront and knowing that no matter WHAT road you travel, we love you and are proud of you.

i’m sad to see you go. because i will miss the 10 minute download. the goofy silly hyper post work taylor who tells me about a week in 10 min. but i’m looking forward to visiting you. and skyping with you. and sending you things. for some reason i feel i’ll be a better parent….

mostly what I would tell my daughter, is i am only the person i am today, because she exists.
my bird. she flies.


single much?

so. its that time of year where i reflect (me reflect?) on my 13 years as a person without a spouse. in that 13 years i spent 5 in a serious committed relationship. during that 5 years we shared the same space, full time, for 9 months.  the rest of that time was split between two houses an hour apart. his. and mine. OURS we sometimes said. but lets get real. they were mine and his.  there are things you learn about yourself when you live in your OWN house for an extended period of time. mostly i’ve learned. i’m weird.

i fully embrace this weirdness. i straight up roll around in it. but it took this last year of  solo to see it so clearly.

first there is this:


i have sheer pink pom pom curtains in my bathroom. they match my retro pink and black bathroom. yes they do. when i found them i was like OH HELL YES! and i showed my then 14 year old son and said “will you be mortified if i put these in our bathroom?” and he said “no, those are AWESOME”. I am also raising little weirdos. so up they went. would i have done that if there was a man living here? hell yes. and if he wanted to be in my life he’d say “those are awesome!” (find me that man and send him my number because i’m fairly sure he does not exist)

i go to other peoples houses sometimes and i walk in and i’m like “wow, a grown up lives here! look how everything MATCHES!”

I dated this guy briefly and the first time i went to his house i was like “oh. this is how grown up men decorate. there is a theme and colors and tables that kids dont use as spring boards for the couch” WEIRD.

i had this life once where i filled my house with things like that. with vases of fake flowers and baskets that cost more than anyone should EVER pay for a basket and i would put fake flowers in them. it was part of my plastic life. and when the picket fence melted i got rid of anything that didnt mean something to me. all the pretty things that money bought went to goodwill and i surrounded myself with things that made me smile. so when i walk in my room, i’m greeted by this:Image

its like a grown up doesnt even LIVE HERE.

so sometimes, rarely, but sometimes i contemplate: what type of guy would i ever possibly meet who would walk in that room and think: “wow. this woman has her shit together”. (well if he’s there he must already think that or he wouldnt be right?” but seriously.

i forget sometimes. that not everyone appreciates the choices i have made. that at some point in my life (probably the point where i had to decide between food for my kids and plastic flowers), i decided – enough. enough consuming. i chose to surround myself with things that make me smile. things the kids make me. or things i find on the thrift shelf, or that friends bestow on me. or things given. like these:


a bad ass lamp a friend gave me who knew i’d LOVE IT. a vase my parents got as a wedding gift 40+ years ago that i’ve always loved. and a little jar of seashells i collected when i hopelessly in love with a boy i met on vacation when i was 15. 

i dont judge how anyone else choses to live. but this is how i chose to live. i’d rather spend 3$ on a bad ass high quality bedspread that someone else paid $150 for 10 years ago than to EVER spend $150 on a bedspread. maybe that doesnt make me a weirdo. maybe that just makes me cheap as hell.  but this. this makes me a weirdo:


we decided as a family we are leaving the aluminum tree up all year. we might even decorate it for the holidays if we can find some cheap ass decorations at the thrift store. i’m really looking forward to easter. cause some hello kitty easter eggs would rock that bitch.

hi. my name is heather. and i’m a weirdo. does anyone have a cat that needs a home?

seriously single. seriously ok with it. seriously keeping my tree up.

my sister.

the universe gave me a sister who is in many ways my opposite. she tall and leggy with dark eyes and dark hair. her brain is at least 2x larger than mine. shes slacks and sweaters and diamonds to my jeans and beer shirts and chucks. shes country to my city.

the universe also gave me a sister who is in many ways my mirror. i can throw her all my crazy and she mirrors back sanity. i can tell her any truth or ugly or fear or sadness in my brain or heart, and she will reflect back insight, empathy, comfort and hope.

she understands when i’m standing in the bell-tower and walks me back down the stairs. and it doesnt scare her, because its her bell-tower too.

she understands my road and i understand her. for as different as they sometimes are, they are also very similar. in my moments when i feel and am, very alone. she is always right there.

i’m sorry i tried to kill you a few times sis. i love you. thank you. 

(i’ll loan you The Bell Jar so you get my jokes)