That was Saturday? Where'd it go?
Well, the massage (actually, it was mostly osteo, and my friend the therapist says my right leg is longer than my left, and my hip joints are inflexible) turned into a day-long odyssey.

We're taking care of Onyx's adoptive brother again today, so we brought them both along (they both rode in my lap during the forty-minute ride to the next town! Bro' Dog, a mostly-bulldog named Orc (now usually called Porc, in recognition of the new fullness of figure he has suddenly developed) sleeps in cars, so he slept heavily across one thigh with his head on A.'s arm, but Onyx likes to look out the window. He has to switch, windshield to door window and back, in case he misses anything -- so he danced heavily back and forth on me and Porc the whole way. Porc didn't care, but my bladder rather did...)

I had my treatment, then A. had a treatment while I ate my lunch (leftover chicken breast from the Indian restaurant, rubbed with spices, on a salad, and a rice pudding thing I made of some cooked brown rice, Jello pudding powder, cardamom and rosewater -- to go with the East Indian theme, you know). Then we took our friend (who is presently carless) to Sears to look at appliances -- she is planning to turn the top half of the house her practice is in to an apartment, and live there, and thence to the grocery store so she could buy heavy things and not have to lug them home.

And there it was. Day gone. I've just finished dinner -- half cup egg sub, 75g can smoked tuna, 2 tablespoons of the Pindjur stuff, 6 ounces broccoli with Mrs. Dash, and dessert -- 8-grain cereal, chocolate syrup, and vanilla-flavoured tofu cream.

I'm meeting up with a friend to go dance my face off tonight.

And though it's early to be saying so, I have a feeling in my vitals that the refeed has kicked things up. I noticed this morning after my bath -- finally -- that things seemed to be shifting in the bod -- and my watch has suddenly started to spin on my wrist, just today. Here's hoping, anyway.

All hail the refeed
129 pounds, 98.6?F today. Which, considering the incredible variety of Very Bad Food I put in my face last night, is well-nigh miraculous.

That's the trouble with the whole "refeed" thing, and as far as I can tell, it happens to nearly everyone: when you've been restricting your intake severely, you get a seratonin high the instant the sugar touches your tongue. Then it's all over, and you eat anything that doesn't run away fast enough. I've seen posts from people on message boards saying that they set their alarm clocks extra-early on refeed days so they can get started eating sooner, don't go out all day because they're eating, lay in stockpiles of sweet junk food... it's really terribly disturbing. Which is just one reason I'm not going to be doing that any more.

I must say, that new Indian restaurant is very, very good. Quite unequalled in this town, although the gulab jamun A. and I shared sucked. The savoury dishes, though, were very well done.

Breakfast this morning (late this morning): 1/3 cup 10-grain pancake mix (battered up with an egg white), topped with a bit of sugar-free jam or syrup, and 2 tablespoons plain tofu cream mixed with 2 tablespoons unflavoured whey protein, and some butter extract. Weird, but it works. Plus a cup of frozen broccoli with some teriyaki sauce, and green tea.

I'm off to get a massage and maybe some osteopathic treatment today.

That's more like it
I've been dragging along for such a time now, on too little calories and too long after lunch, that I forgot that in fact, I do like to work out.

Today, Back, Traps and Calves. Still Rep Range week, tempo 212, rest 90 seconds.

Close Grip Pulldown
WU 25lbs x8
Work 75 lbs x8, 8
Notes: So smooth, so easy... and last time, I was struggling at 70.

Wide Grip Cable Row
WU 25lbs x8
Work 70lbs x10, 14
Notes: supposed to be 2x10. Again, sweetly easy.

DB Row on Incline Bench
WU 15lb PBs x8
Work 35lb PBs+Add x12, 12
Notes: Okay, these were a bit harder. Last two on the first set were tough; second set was totally a breeze till the 8th rep, then suddenly I was wrestling to get the last. Not quite time to add more weight.

DB Shrugs
55lb PBs x12, 15
Notes: It's my grip that's limiting these, not my traps.

BB Shrug (with straps)
135lbs x10, 12
Notes: I found out just the other day that in fact you DO count the bar in your weight. That makes my squat slightly less humiliating... anyway, so the weight here includes the Olympic bar. The second set was wacked, as despite the straps my hands were slipping along the bar, and thus it was getting more and more unbalanced.

Standing Calf Raise
65lb PB (single)
R10/L10, L12/R12
Notes: I took these slllloooowwwwly, and finally, made my calves shriek with pain.

Then I went for a nice 30-minute run, down the rail trail and back around home through the cemetery. It was rainy and frigid most of the day, but at some point while I was down in the gym, the skies became sunny and balmy, if not warm. Delightful! Utterly delightful!

Now, I'm sweaty, drinking the post-workout shake (protein powder, tablespoon flaxseed, chocolate syrup) and just about to get in my bath. Then off for East Indian dinner!

What kind of feminist am I?
Or am I? This link comes from Utopian Hell, via Mouse Words.

1. Most of us go by pseudonyms on the internet to avoid rabid ex-lovers, identity thieves, and dirtbags that have nothing better to do. These names have special meaning to each person and often tell a bit about that person. If you use a pseudonym, list it and explain why you chose that particular name. If you don't, well, just tell us your name.
CompassRose, which I use most places, is evocative to me, but honestly, the initial choice was rather random. I was signing on, I remember, to a forum, and my first choice of 'nyms was taken. I looked about my bookshelves, and my eye fell (unsurprisingly) upon the heavily-populated Ursula K. Le Guin section. The Compass Rose is the title of a collection of short stories.

The other name I use occasionally is derived from Hecate, which I recently found out has been suggested as the origin of my first name (which is etymologically somewhat mysterious, though usually rendered as "pure"). I would far rather honour Hecate than be known as "pure".

2. Are you single? I am not.

3. If yes, do you believe in marriage as an institution?
Even though I am technically excluded from this question, I want to address it. I do believe that honouring the commitment of lifelong lovers (note, please, here, that I do not say couples) is important, and doing so in a way that is public and meaningful to the kinship circle of the lovers concerned is also important.

It is also important (and to me, self-evident) that such partnerships should have some way of asserting their legal significance.

However, and this is a big however, I don't believe that the social, possibly religious/spiritual declaration of vows should have anything to do with the legal.

And I also suspect that a great many of the people who use phrases such as "marriage as an institution" have only one institution in mind, an imposing structure of heavy Judeo-Christian stone. Let us not forget that every culture has its own traditions.

4. Do you have any children? I do not, by my conscious choice.

5. Was your mother a feminist?
I think she is, though I don't know if she would call herself one. My mother is utterly herself, and makes no excuses for it. And she is one of the strongest women I know.

6. Reach back into your brain and remember what made you a feminist in the first place. Tell us the story, and let us know if those things still weigh heavily in your decision to continue being a feminist.
Books, of course. My existence is shaped by books. Hm. I would have to say that Red Sonja and Morgaine were the germ of my becoming a feminist. But then I read other things -- history, various classics of feminist literature -- and noticed the parallels to my own life (I was, for instance, discouraged from taking shop class by my high school guidance counsellor) and became, for a bit, a fire-breathing feminist.

I've cooled off a lot these days. I have to admit, I'm not temperamentally a fire-breather, not a marcher, not a chainer-to-the-railings. Honestly, I want what my mother has, the freedom to be myself whatever, and I want all people to have the same.

7. What would you call your `personal style'? Do you like makeup/hate makeup? Jeans and t-shirts or flares and babydolls? Do you own any high heels? Give us an indication of the types of things you like to wear and the image that you portray that makes you the most comfortable.
"Costume". I dress up a lot. But for every day, it is probably closest to "literary dyke". There is a great deal of used clothing involved, in plain colours that go with each other. I don't wear makeup most days, and my hair is weird.

8. Are you a crazy cat lady?
I am a crazy animal lady. I like most animals better than most people.

9. What do you think of men in this crazy world? Are they the problem or the solution? Are they all guilty by association, or is it a social ill that we all have to face?
Is what a social ill? The men? Oh dear! I think "blaming the men" is simplistic; a lot of people simply don't consider the socialisation they are given. They inherit ideas, culture, behaviour, and repeat it; it evolves of itself, but they are not conscious of its evolution, nor of the people who actively work to shape it.

People are the problem. People. History. Stubbornness and love of tradition -- even most progressive people, somewhere, have a love of personal tradition, a secret piece of their own childhood that they value. Conservatism is a human trait, in many ways a positive one. The question is knowing when to taste the new berry, and when it might kill you, after all.

10. Who do you think is more dangerous to feminism: Women who portray feminism as dirty and unfeminine, or men who wish to control their wives through monetary and other means? Or do you have another theory all together?
I think women work more actively, and sneakily, to sabotage other women. I know I have felt far more pressure from other females to conform, to be "girly", than I ever did from men. On an individual basis, women are more likely to shame or hurt another woman for "being a feminist".

However, in terms of greater harm, it is definitely "the establishment" that is the danger. And the establishment is, still, largely male. Does that mean men are the problem? Well, in so far as the one on top of the heap generally strives to remain there, yes.

We are still apes, really, with some extra brains and books and things. Our mental nature needs to catch up with our animal nature, and until that happens on a wider scale, "better than you" -- whoever you is, women, different-coloured people, fat people -- is always going to be a game we are instinctively drawn to, and many of us will deliberately, and dirtily, play.

11. What is your political affiliation?
I'm not affiliated with politics.

12. What is the last book that you read?
I finished The Elephants of Style last night.

Not quite miraculous
Today's weight: 128.5 pounds. Temperature: 97.3?F.

I am happy (I suppose) to report that this is not the sort of miraculous drop which would prompt an immediate adoption of the Pralines and Chocolate diet. ("Get ripped and bring your dentist joy!")

However, it is sufficient to suggest that getting on the carb-cycle wagon pretty darn quick is probably a good notion. I will also be cutting back on the salt.

Eating, planned and/or consumed thus far:
Meal one: 1/3 cup (dry measure) oatmeal, with Dulce de Leche sugar-free syrup and a dusting of butter sprinkles; 1/2 cup egg substitute made into an omelette with a filling of half a can of tuna, some chopped dill and a couple tablespoons tofu mayo.

Meal two: the other half can of tuna, one ounce onion, some frozen peppers, a lot of spices of the hot Mexican persuasion, and another half-cup egg substitute, en frittate.

Meal three: a serving of turkey chili which I unearthed in the freezer, and a salad of Romaine and red pepper with balsamic vinegar. (I slept in shamefully this morn. Time was tight.)

And the score is Me -- Zero
Total calories: 1644. 116g protein, 169g carbs (27g fibre), 43g fat.

This is because not only did I have a small piece of bittersweet chocolate, but I also had a couple of Real N'Awlins Pralines which I whipped up to bring as a gift to this birthday party tomorrow.

It is all very well to tell yourself "the other competitors are not eating crap" when your diet is going relatively swimmingly.

If, on the other hand, you are eating 1400 or sometimes less calories per day, all clean as per custom, mostly hungry and mostly cranky, and nothing is budging, well, "fukkit" begins to be heard about the vaults of the skull, and you decide you might as well go on the pralines diet, because it's pretty obvious that the skinless chicken, fibrous veggies and nice low GI carbs are not doing the bloody trick.

Yes. So that was fifth meal. Fourth meal was oven-fried chicken with spiced nutritional yeast, a pile of broccoli, and four ounces sweet potato.

If I am down weight tomorrow, I will be some bitter, I can tell you.

Please can I just go back to bed?
Although if I have the same mad crazy dreams I was having all night, it won't be terribly restful.

Today's weight: 129 pounds. Temperature: 97.3?F.

This is becoming a small personal crisis. If this next dietary step doesn't work, and work fast, I will have to give up this idea of competing in November. I am fatter than I was last time; I have more to lose and have lost less than I had by this point last time, and I wanted to be leaner than before, and leaner sooner.

Delete whatever expletives you like here. Lots of them. I don't know what's going on. Almost every other female competitor posting to every other message board happily goes on a 10-11x bodyweight diet, low-ish in carbs, 12 weeks out, and loses fat like gangbusters. But not me. Why do I always have to be the farking special one when it comes to metabolic reactions? Give me a drug, and I get the side effect which makes doctors say, "I never heard of anyone having that one before." Put me on a diet, and I defy all the laws of dietary physics.

Breakfast: 1 cup egg substitute, with a bit of Pindjur (a Bulgarian kind of spread made of roasted eggplants and peppers); 1/3 cup (raw measure) oatmeal (cooked) with a dash of caramel sugar-free syrup, nutmeg and butter sprinkles.

Meal two: 1 cup egg sub frittata'ed with a bunch of random frozen veggies (some French-cut beans and some Oriental stir-fry mix), grated ginger and garlic, and hot pepper threads, with a dash of the teriyaki sauce on top. Veggies are scarce today, as it is payday and therefore shopping day -- although I must remember that I still have a red cabbage in the basement that needs eating.

Meal three: Romaine, with some (thawed) frozen broccoli and a chopped sundried tomato a-top, along with 1.5 ounces chicken breast and Dijon-balsamic dressing. And half an oatcake. And 2 tablespoons Quark with stevia, cinnamon extract, and butter sprinkles.

I am so tired.

Reading while eating
Time for the tally: 1390 calories, 136g protein, 104g carbs (23g fibre), 35g fat.

Other things eaten today were lunch, which was a salad with a 75g can of smoked tuna and tofu mayo dressing, followed by half an oatcake with Quark, and supper. Supper was the zucchini/soy protein cakes again, with -- I bet you thought I was going to say "ocean perch", didn't you? No, last night was the end of the ocean perch fishery in my freezer. Two and three-quarters of an ounce chicken, with sauteed mushrooms (4), and onion (1 ounce) and a lot of paprika and a bit of tofu cream -- Chicken vaguely Paprikash. And then there was either dessert or Meal Six, another of my Nameless Messes, flax fibre, a tablespoon of peanut butter, and a dash each of soymilk and chocolate sugar-free syrup.

I got a bunch of other books from the library as well (thank goodness) to nourish my current wild reading kick. One was The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, by Alexander McCall Smith -- a book which I have seen highly recommended on all sorts of Webby places I frequent. I finished that, too, after my oatcake. It's quite funny, light, heartwarming, and full of the Quaint Native Charms of Africa. I liked it, and will probably instantly forget most of it.

The others were the South Beach Diet Cookbook, Bill Walsh's Elephants of Style, and Alan Garner's The Weirdstone of Brisingamen.

The last I think I read for the first time when I was about seven, and I have to periodically re-read it. I think I have bought myself about three or four copies of it, only I keep lending (giving!) them away to people, saying, "You must read this!" Well, they must. Especially if they think Harry Potter is the summit of young adult fantasy.

The SBD Cookbook is a bit of a disappointment; here I was hoping for some fresh ideas, but their philosophy appears to be, "Can't have carbs? Have cheese!" which is hardly helpful.

And Elephants -- oo, I wish I hadn't got that one. Cos now I'll want it with a wild insatiable lust. I love crotchety grammar books.

Orright. I'm off to read in bed. No, I never did get to Twilight Samurai, which is a shame, as I'll have to return the thing bright and early on my way to work tomorrow.

Pooped again
Worst Chest Workout Ever award goes to today's session, thanks to me being an idiot, and reading a book I got from the library until well after I should've been down in the gym. And thereby missing my Nourishment Window.

And I was hating the book, too. It was Frances Kuffel's Passing for Thin, which according to the cover blurb is about "losing half my weight and finding myself."

Well, I was interested in the premise, because of course I've lost nearly half my weight, and found out all sorts of things, and I therefore wondered about Frances' experience.

Unfortunately, she just pissed me off. She described, in loving, gluttonous, gorge-rising detail her years of surreptitious stuffing, wandering about her parents' house with stolen food stuffed in her cheeks and into folds of laundry, then subsequently eating herself senseless in a dark, grotty apartment which served no other purpose than to hold her 300+ pound self as she called for takeout from the bed, ate it, then went to sleep (without, presumably, brushing her teeth -- she says she didn't even do her dishes). Then she found Overeaters Anonymous, and in between bouts of self-hatred, mixing bowls full of salad, and wistful reminiscences about food she had known, lost weight and became slim and more or less hot.

I think I've been spending too much time at Big Fat Blog. I think -- I don't know. I just resented the book -- resented it for supporting all of the "Obesity Crisis" idiots parping about how all these fat slugs do is obsessively chow down greasy junk, and if they'd just eat healthy foods they could all be thin and stop being a blight on the American landscape.

Bullshit, I say. There are tons (er, pardon the pun) of fat people who are not repulsive in their overeating, who do not have longstanding "habits" of using food as a barbiturate (as Ms Kuffel insists she did), who do eat healthy foods -- maybe a bit more than they "should" (or should as fat people; thin/normal people can "overeat" and it's just fine and dandy), but not necessarily in outrageous amounts -- and are still fat.

By the end, Kuffel is thin, and looking for lurve; she has a rather rocky experience with MatchDotCom and online dating -- but it's easy to see why. Her true love, her lost love, is and always will be her food. She speaks of food with far more passion than she ever does of her rather abstract dates and sort-of boyfriend.

Annoying. And yet I read it, the whole thing, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she'd really learn something from all this, become likeable instead of fragile and somehow shallow. But she never did.

Anyway. Workout. Chest and shoulders,Rep Range week, tempo 212, rests 90 seconds.

DB Floor Press
WU 15lb PB x8
Work 35lb PB x8, 8, 8
Notes: Made target reps, but barely. It gets worse, though.

Incline DB Press
WU 15lb PB x8
Work 25lb PB+Add x10, 10, 8
Notes: Third set, hit the "bonk". All downhill from here. I am stupid.

DB Flye
WU 10lb DB x8
Work: 25lb PB x 11, 10
Notes: I don't even want to look up how I did on these last time. This sucked.

Single-Arm DB Press
WU 10lb DB xR4/L4
Work 25lb PB xR7/L7, L7/R7

Rear Lat Raise on Incline Bench
WU 5lb DB x8
Work 15lb PB x10, 10, 10-ish
Notes: Though I sort of did target reps, I was not happy with these at all.

Cable Side Lat Raise
Work 2.5lb xR12/L12, L12/R12
Notes: What's the point of doing a warmup when you are using ONE plate, the smallest you have, for your workset? Gah, these are depressing.

Total lifting time, 40 minutes to the minute. Then, because I already felt like crap and should've eaten forty minutes ago, I still, of course, had to go up to the school and run football-field sprints. Ten of them. A. came along and brought the dog, and played ball with him while I ran. By the time I'd done that, I was dazed and staggering, and whining incessantly to A. about "what carb to have", because I become completely irrational when my blood sugar is down, and such things as what to eat become Huge, Looming Issues of Major Importance.

So I came home and stuffed the entirety of one of the oatcakes, hastily smeared with Jello pudding icing, into my maw. Because it was there, and the thought of making -- anything -- was bringing me near to tears at that point.

Sometimes I hate my body. This is one of the things losing weight has done for me -- arsed up my blood sugar. No. I sound bitter, but I'm not. I'm just feeling fat and bitter today.

On a completely other note, a hospital in Toronto called, and said they had openings to do the MRI on my pesky bosked-up knee. When? Well, they do all their scans between midnight and the morning shift.

Five a.m. this Monday morning. In Toronto. I can hardly wait.

Shocked, I am truly shocked
We have an Irish student, just starting today, for a work/exchange program.

She is wearing:
1) a tight polyester chalk-stripe shirt,
2) extremely low-rise, tight-fitting shiny grey satin polyester clubbin' pants, and
3) a cute blue thong, clearly visible at the intersection of the above.

So this is office-wear of the future is it?