As of today — meaning, before the turkey and gravy and decadence and having family stay with me and all that — I have lost 60 pounds. 60!
I had to squint. See, I use this 1950s scale that was my mom’s and my grandma’s before her. Don’t knock it, it’s as accurate as the doctor’s office. You go spend your $90 on your digital thingie with its bells and whistles and bullshit, I’m fine with this guy.
‘Cos I’ve lost 60 pounds! YAY! From 275 down to 215. 🙂
Bring on 2009, ‘cos I’m gonna kick its ass too! YEAH, BABY.
Author Archives: Steffani Cameron
A Long Overdue Report on the State of the Steffs
I really wanted to write on the weekend, and I don’t know why I’ve not been able to get into the mood of it. I’ve been exhausted, overworked, stretched too thin, all of that. I’m in a good mood, so I’m not depressed or anything. I’m just sort of being a Steff-of-all-things for everybody else that I’ve got too little of me left for me these days, and I guess writing would mean I’d have even less left. Sometimes, the curtains pulled, lights down low, doors locked, and calendar free, and nothing accomplished, well, it all adds up to saving a bit of yourself when it doesn’t seem you’ve got much of it left.
It certainly doesn’t do much to help the blog out, now, does it?
That’s just the way the existential cookie crumbles, though. Yesterday was my accomplish-nothing day, and fuck I loved it.
Now here it is, 9 minutes to 9, and I should be on the bus to Adiosville and work, but instead I’ve foolishly begun to blog. I guess this is how it begins. The “I shouldn’t, but I will” posting cracks the veneer of protectiveness that develops when you stop posting daily or whatever, and slowly I get back into the mode. I want to blog, it’s the doing-of-it that’s the problem. Life just has different ideas. Normally I have enough flexibility in my schedule I can bump things and stay home to write no matter when the urge hits. Not these days. Continue reading
Touching Bases as The Insanity Continues
Hi, world.
I’ve been swirling in overtime for two weeks now, and there’s a huge relief that swelled inside me when I woke up on this Friday morning and realized two things: One, I slept well. Two, I’ve survived this week.
Survival, Darwin would tell you, is achieved only by the fittest. These days, I don’t particularly feel that’s a crowd I’ve been keeping up with. But I’m getting there!
Wednesday night was nice, my bosses got into a “Gee, Steff, you’re looking so hip these days!” round of compliments when I wore my cute new top that day. Continue reading
Things I Said: Further Raided Tweets
Sadly, boys and girls, I’ve been working overtime. Six days last week. All 9+ hour days this week, plus physio, massage, and dentist appointments. Before the weekend. And don’t get me started about that.
So, I’m stretched thin. Obviously. The blog thus suffers.
Tonight’s posting, therefore, is the doesn’t-require-brainpower option of copying some of my Favrd/Favrotted Twitter comments of late for your chuckling pleasure.
Could be worse. I could just be boring the shit out of you with “Oh, woe is overtime. All that money, so little time” crap, but I have decency.
Besides, recycling is good for everybody. Without ado, then, a selection from the last week or so.
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- Ever wonder what kind of social pariah you’d be treated like if you worked as a salesperson on the Home Shopping Network?
As an effort to reduce the control commercialism has over me, I practice individuality by eating my red Smarties first.
- Tragically, kids, we’ve reached the saddest part of the morning: Steff needs to put on clothes. You may collectively sigh now.
I’ve played Jenga drunk way too often. Walking past unfinished skyscrapers unnerves me. Continue reading
Fat Girl No More: How I Lost 50 Pounds
Two piles of “fat” clothes sit in garbage bags by my front door, waiting to get donated, like the two bags I ditched last week. It’s the end of an era.
I’ve been buying clothes lately, the last two weeks. It’s been emotional hell. I’m about a size 15 now (down from 22/24), and that makes me almost too big for most “normal” stores, and too small for “fat girl” stores. It’s been a bit of a chore.
It’s been hard, because getting to know your body when it’s not your body anymore, well, it’s a journey. I decided my judgment was shit, ultimately, as I found myself shopping emotionally and not critically, so I made the choice that anything I bought I’d put on ice until I went to a half-dozen or more stores, and then I would Assess and decide then what should be kept of all my purchases.
Well, today was assessment day. Several shirts are going back, as well as a beautiful fire-red winter coat, because they’re all too large.
At last weigh-in, three or four weeks ago, I was down 50 pounds. I’ve probably not lost anything since, or not much, and don’t care, because I continue to improve and change my ways, my clothes keep getting looser, and that’s my REAL goal, not a “number”. The real weight I think I’m down, though, is probably closer to about 85 pounds over the last 5 or so years. It’s 50+ this year alone. Continue reading
Poor Little Scooter
We here in Vancouver live on the Wet Coast. This city literally is in a rainforest. There’s around 1,200 mm of rain a year. 45 inches for you Imperialists down south. With 10% of that rain falling in the summer months, you can imagine the fun that is the winter here in Vancouver. Wanna get wet? This is your town.
I, however, am Vancouver-born. That’s a pretty small percentage, true “locals”. Most folks around these parts are imports. Not me. I don’t do umbrellas. They’re for sissies. I even ride my scooter in downpours.
Like on Monday.
I had an appointment to get to as the weather worsened and worsened, torrents coming down, and figured, “Fuck it, I’ve been in worse.” I grabbed my reflective vest, something I never wear but felt strangely drawn to do, and headed.
I raced out past the airport, and was motoring it faster than I had when I worked out there, and was, despite the torrents, enjoying the new, powerful beast my scooter had become with its souped-up new 70cc kit, crankshaft, new seals, and essentially a rebuilt motor that was geared for performance and speed by my speed-geek mechanic.
While my mechanic’s all that, it would seem the civic engineers in Richmond are fucking morons. Turns out, the Number 2 Road Bridge is NOT designed for rain. Because, why would you take rain into consideration in a rainforest? I mean, how much can it really rain after all?
Enough to send veritable rivers — I’m talking nearly three inches deep — rushing down the CENTRE of the bridge deck. You know, where scooters ride?
Chug-chug-chug-chig-chocka-bonk-bog-bog-putt-putt-thud. Continue reading
Christmas Shopping Suggestion
I really need to catch up on some postings, but, honestly, I’ve been killing myself getting my house organized after weeks of chaos. I’m happy to announce that, by nightfall, my home will finally be a home again. About time.
At Christmastime I normally try to do really unique or different gifts. I’ll do my photography, or home cooking, or anything I can that’s a little different. This year, it’s The Easy Way Out with online purchases after what’s been one of the most gruelling falls of my life, but I think I’ve chosen well and I hope my friends enjoy what I’ve chosen. (Did I mention I’m already done my Christmas shopping? For the first time in 10 years, I’m done early. All hail the mighty Steff!)
The single best year I’ve had for gift-giving, though, was the last year I owned my car. I went way the hell out into the valley to where all the antique and collectible malls are, and scoured until I found gifts that screamed my two best friends’ names.
For one, I bought a classic red 1955 rotary dial phone. He’s still using it today, six or so years later. For the other, I found a complete mint-condition set of four Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back Burger King glasses. Like, flawless, baby.
It’s so easy to find new shit that’s mass produced for people. Want to really be different? Think retro, or artisan, or personal. Hell, you may even save money. My SW:ESB glasses I got my friend? Less than $25. But awesome to the nth. 🙂
Now, even though I’m done my Christmas shopping, there’s still ME. I’m off to the malls to fetch my new TiVo (insert giddy giggle here) and try on a few clothes. My makeover continues. Later, peeps.
The Things I Said: Raiding My Favrd Tweets
If you still don’t know what Twitter is, it’s like a live chat version of the Facebook status update. People will often just write random shit, but the trick is, doing it in 140 characters. Quel tricky. It’s a strange community. You can ‘star’ or ‘favourite’ the ‘tweets’ you like best.
If you star stuff, then you should also sign up at Favrd. That way, your favourite sayings will get logged, and the person who said it gets a little notice as a result. It’s a nice thing to do, Favrding your faves. Nudge, nudge, hint. Poke. Y’know?
I had no idea I was getting stuff “Favrd” on Twitter. How cool is that shit? People put little gold stars next to the things I say. I feel so speshul! Watch me blush.
I have to admit, some of this stuff cracks me up when I think it, so when I find out someone, anyone, got a laugh out of it or dug it? Makes me feel awesome. So here’s some of what people liked that I’ve said. Brace yourself!
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The fella next to me on the bus either wears Rotting Apple cologne or he needs to clean out his bag. Rimbaud would approve. Me? Not so much.
- Bet no one wants to talk to the shouting bearded As-See-On-TV guy at parties. “BUT WAIT, there’s MORE! A martini bar! It’ll get you drunk!”
Homelessness is always sad, but it’s sadder in hard November rains. Continue reading
How to REALLY Do Kegels: Things I've Learned In Rehab
PLEASE READ THE COMMENT DISCUSSION ON THIS POSTING, SINCE THERE ARE VALID CONCERNS BEFORE FOLLOWING ANYTHING IN THIS POSTING. Let me be perfectly clear: This is NOT a posting about how to heal back pain. This remedy is for MY back pain, conjured after a few hours of one-on-one time with a physiotherapist who took $65 an hour for his diagnosis. If you have back problems, go to a professional because there’s no way you should be self-diagnosis, ‘cos that could seriously fuck you up.
THIS is about the proper way to do Kegel exercises, why getting the technique is right, and a bit of a warning about doing them wrong, as I’ve learned from personal experience.
Again, got back problems? There are professionals you need to see, not laypeople’s blogs because you think they know their shit, right? Okay. Good. Disclaimer done. Here you go:
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Well, I’m seeing a physiotherapist for rehabbing regarding my sorry-ass back after blowing it out in September. I’m apparently on track to be “healed” sometime in February. No, seriously.
Despite losing 50 pounds via cycling a couple thousand clicks and climbing some 45,000+ steps and yoga and shit, my back just up and died something fierce. Apparently all that activity is precisely why
Physiotherapy’s interesting when you have a good practitioner. I landed myself a geek who recognises the smarty-pants geek in me, and he’s breaking down very clearly all the ways my body works so I understand the mechanics behind what’s failed inside me, and how to circumvent such failures in the future.
Part of this means I’m learning about my body in a very new way.
Ironically, the number one thing I’m supposed to be doing in order to prevent this injury from ever, ever returning? Kegel-based exercises. As I wrote on Twitter, at the end of the next three months, I’ll have the strongest, most powerful twat in the world. Why? Because I’m to do 360 Kegel-based repetitions a day. Yes, 360 vagina-clenching excercises. Not like I was Little Miss Stretched-Out in the first place, either, so I’m a little daunted by the extent of these, urm, repetitions. I shall be She of the Vice Grip, I tell ya. Continue reading
My New Hairdo!
I owe you guys a posting, I know! Tomorrow. No, really!
In the meantime, I took a chance on a hairdressing school that didn’t disappoint a couple years back, and told ’em the spirit of what I wanted, that I was a “fauxhawk” kinda gal, and that I’d kicked ass and took names enough to lose 50 pounds, and this was my “reinventing” hairdo. I also told ’em I was open to something fun.
So, cap highlights done, the professor goes, “Ohmigod, I totally want to put something brighter around here–” and points to my bangs “…because it’d make your eyes look amazing. Can I do some foils? You got another half-hour?”
I laughed and told him to have at ‘er. Then he proceeded to NOT tell me what colour the highlights would be. The suspense was worth it. Total cost for cap highlights, about eight foils, and a cut? $56 after taxes.
Yeah. That’s right. Ha! And here I be, without showing you too much of me…
PS: Everyone has raved so far at work and in life. Feels great.