The Super Bowl That Almost Wasn’t..

I’m ashamed to say… There was a point in the super bowl game when I lost the faith.

My thoughts went like this… This is so sad. We came all this way and the Patriots are going to lose the Super Bowl. Maybe this whole challenge was a bad idea. Troy worked so hard for this? ad naseum.

But then, I put on my Pollyanna hat…
We’re still here. It’s a privilege, a once in a lifetime experience. And our team doesn’t HAVE to win. The pre-game energy, the city bustling with rivalry and camaraderie. Strangers highfiving in the streets, even the heckling from falcon fans was fun. So what if the Patriots lose the Super Bowl. (FML)

After every possession, I did the math… Okay, I thought, just two touchdowns and we can bring this game around. Ok, three. Or a series of other combinations of plays. Oh what do I know?! We’re doomed! (Queue neurotic stress-eating)

All week, Troy had regaled me with random stats and superstitions that ensured a Patriot’s victory. Apparently, 11 of last 12 Super Bowls, the team wearing the white jerseys won. Did you know that? No? How about this one? In the last ten Super Bowls, if the league MVP played, his team lost. Or this one… The Patriots are 16-0 when Deion Lewis plays and 8-0 without Gronk.

All week, Troy was confident, cocky even. (As no Patriot fans are. Noooooo.) He had cursed it! That or the fact that when a groundhog has seen his shadow, the Patriots have lost the super bowl 4 out of 5 times. (???)

What a sad conclusion to Troy’s 90 day challenge. You made it Troy. The one time in your life you’ll go to super bowl (unless we win the lottery or a daughter marries an NFL player or something), you got to watch your team lose. This is why I’m not a football fan. The stress.

At this point of despondency, I sat back in chair wolfing down a jumbo popcorn and Troy kissed his wedding ring. No joke. He literally took it from his finger and smooched it. What compelled him to do it? No idea. What does it have to do with super bowl? Your guess is as good as mine. And why is it part of a desperation prayer? I’m not sure if I’m offended.

Then Hightower sacked oh-what’s-his-name and the popcorn went flying.

After they scored, I said “They still need three touchdowns.”

“No,” Troy chirped, “just two touchdowns with two point conversions!”

🤔 “To tie,” I reminded him, “in 8 minutes.” Because I’m a cautious optimist.

The rest is a blur. It has since been filled in because Troy has watched the plays and highlights nonstop for the last 36 hours.

All I know is there was score after score and wild jumping/screaming/all round hysterics. Troy’s iWatch alerted him to reaching his fitness goal, from his seat. The game went overtime. Win. Pandemonium. Tears. Pretty much like that.

When a Fox News anchor pulled us aside to ask how we felt about the game, Troy replied “F***ing amazing!” Needless to say, we didn’t make the news. Aaaaand there goes my chance at fame.

I’m still in awe, shock. This had to be one of the best games I’ve ever seen, let alone Super Bowl. The fear➡️the despair➡️the hope➡️the euphoria.

So this is what you football fans were talking about. I get it now.

Nagging Spouse out…

Is Troy Going To Super Bowl?

I’m in a bit of a conundrum. The Nagging Spouse Challenge is at its end. (That’s not the conundrum. The Nagging Spouse has no end.) The problem is whether Troy is going to Super Bowl.

So here’s the deal. I will set before you, judge and jury, the results of the Nagging Spouse 90 Day Six Pack Challenge because ultimately, Troy’s prize is in your hands.

I took this yesterday in our kitchen. Not exactly a six-pack…

Troy says, “If you close one eye and squint the other…”

On the one hand, I value justice, integrity, true-to-your-word grit. Sometimes that means I’m not very nice. (Just ask my kids.) I’m not really an A-for-effort kind of person. What kind of challenge would it be if everyone won? This side of me says that Troy is not going to Super Bowl 2017.

But then there’s the other hand, the one that massaged Troy’s tired muscles and filmed him sweating his way through a three-mile run. The hand that served him meal after meal of kale/brussel sprout/spinach surprise (which he ate, without complaint, most of the time). Despite my desire to be fair, I also feel Troy deserves credit for the last grueling 90 days. More than just, “Well, you did your best. Close, but no cigar.” See, I’m not as mean as my kids think I am. And it’s not like he didn’t accomplish anything. He slaved away, made sacrifices (cue sober-holiday sad face) and TRANSFORMED before my very eyes.

So I’m going to do what most people when faced with a difficult decision. I’m going to delegate it. To you.

I’m taking a vote!

The polls are open and Troy’s fate is in your hands. 👊🏻

P.S. If I would have really done my research, I would have known that Super Bowl is stupidly expensive. Yeah, I pretty much screwed the pooch on that one. No new car for me anytime soon.

Triple Threat To Troy’s 90 Day Challenge

Earlier this month, within the span of a week, we had a triple threat. Christmas party, 50th bday party and annual botanical gardens trip with friends (which sounds like a sober affair… but not when you’re a weasel 😉)

The Troy I know would have been pre-partying in preparation for the fun.

i-suggest-we-drink-before-we-go-out-funny-drinking-meme-card-image

Buuuuut not the Troy of late. He had his eye on the prize and was wary of backsliding.

“If I work out twice as hard, maybe it won’t be so bad…” he said. This, mind you, was a random rumination at the dinner table. I looked at my husband, mouth agape. Who is this guy?

At one point, the nagging spouse stopped nagging because I couldn’t have pushed Troy harder than he pushed himself. Of course, he’s not so wary of letting loose for New Year’s Eve.

New Year’s is one of our favorite holidays. It’s one time in the year, that you realign yourself on your course. Review the year and those before, glean what you can, regroup and plot how to do it better.

We have a tradition of running away to the mountains or desert where we build a cocoon, toast ourselves and our many blessings and then watch the sun rise on the new year and ooze gratitude. No nagging spouses allowed.

Packing for the little getaway (sans children), I brought 2 bottles of champagne and 4 bottles of wine. He looked at the bag and scrunched up his nose. Was that a judgy look?

A little embarrassed, I said, “I figured we could just bring home the extra.”

“You know that we’re staying two nights, right?” he said in a “duh” tone I didn’t particularly appreciate. Then he shrugged. “I guess we can buy more while we’re out there.”

Aaaaand that’s the Troy we all know and love.

Happy New Year’s Eve y’all!

What’s a Mulligan?

For those of you keeping count, you might notice that the Nagging Spouse 90 day challenge should be coming to its end. Surely, you’re on pins and needles for a progress report.

The official end day should be December 28th. However, I’ve extended the challenge until December 31st, New Year’s Eve, for a couple reasons.

I like the sound of it better. New year, new Troy. Dawn of a new era. That kind of thing. This is assuming there is a new Troy or new era.
Mulligans, as Troy calls them. Halloween, my birthday(s), parties, Christmas, etc. – unavoidable pitfalls in Troy’s quest for a six pack. As judge, jury and executioner, I have forgiven him 3 days for these pitfalls. Graceful, I know. 😌 What’s a Mulligan, you ask? Here.
He came down with a bug on Christmas Eve. 😷Did that stop him from exercising EVERY day? No ma’am. Did that keep him sick longer? Probably. Moderation… He doesn’t do that.

So stay tuned…

The Nagging Spouse Mistress

Well, it appears I’m being cheated on.

Troy’s Mail Order Nagging Mistress showed up a couple weeks ago and I’ll be damned if she isn’t getting him to work even harder ….

showing off his new schwag

It’s one thing to harangue your husband that he needs more cardio and it’s another to have this oh-so-credible device do it. “Sorry honey,” he says. “I gotta go for a walk or I’ll break my standing streak.” (??)

But I’m not complaining! The single biggest thing the nagging mistress is doing is making him move. Because it ALL counts now. 😁 When I posed the “Now, cleaning the garage counts as exercise…” logic, he looked at me, one eyebrow arched, and hit the stationary bike. Oh well. I tried.

Funny thing is, the more he moves throughout the day, the more energy he has. Sometimes, he’s almost jittery with it. It’s one of those counter-intuitive things, like how sleep begets sleep and eating fat burns fat and how more choice means more dissatisfaction. Like that.

It’s Getting Real… Halftime Show and Results Are In!

“Where is that nagging spouse anyway?” said no one, ever.

Well, I’m baaaack. It’s been awhile, yes. Your feed has not been colored with Nagging Spouse rhetoric, photos of the sweaty guy or recounted adventures in weight loss. I’m sorry and you’re welcome.

It’s because we’ve been busy birthday celebrating, or better said, we’ve been busy birthday celebrating. Troy only splurges when he’s celebrating, but being a glass-half-full kind of guy, he always has SOMETHING to celebrate. My birthday was as good a reason as any.

I’m not complaining. Troy always does my birthday right, full of spoilage and indulgence, and wine. There’s always lots of that. Except this year, being the calorie conscious nagged spouse that he is, Troy opted for Vodka, ya know, for health reasons. So that went well.

Recent conversation between one of Troy’s friends (who shall remain unnamed) and his mother…

Unnamed Friend: “Troy and I are drinking vodka rather than wine because it is healthier.”

Unnamed Friend’s mother: “And that made sense to you?”

We started my birthday month old skool at Zen 5 in Pacific Beach, where it all began with rolls and reggae. This is where the nagging spouse, by small degrees, converted Troy to a sushi eater. 16 years ago!

We’d trade, one Rocky’s hamburger for one sushi dinner. Troy ordered cucumber/cream cheese rolls and Sapporo and we sake-bombed the night away. Small victories.

From there, we saw how the other half live, or the other 1%. One of Troy’s friends lent us his yacht for the weekend. Not slummin.

Found this on Troy’s phone. Haha! Yeah, that’s about right.

Cocktail as you watch the sunset from a bitchin yacht? Don’t mind if I do. Champagne with breakfast? How’d you know? We nagging spouses aren’t impervious! I might have let go of the reins a little bit. 😕

Hello 5:00am. Nice to see you again. Not. – Red 98! Blue 15! Hike!

Soooo… on a positive note, my 6 month old is sleeping through the night. Hallelujah! I get to sleep past 6am, a luxury I never knew was a luxury and that I had apparently gotten too comfortable with. Because The Nagging Spouse doesn’t sleep. Nooooo. She is tireless and dedicated, a granite pillar of support.

As many of you know, Troy is in the Fitwall challenge. His sister, Jody, is in it too, competing as all younger sisters do, with dogged, (and denied😉) tenacity. As part of the challenge a group met at Lake Poway at 7am to hike to Potato Chip Rock or as Troy called it “The Battle of Wounded Knee”.

Hello 5:00am. Nice to see you again. Not.

Troy has been gearing up for this hike for 2 weeks, which I’m both delighted and a little piqued by. I’m delighted by Troy’s excitement to hike and a little peeved by his excitement to hike. I have to cajole, harangue, and pester Troy to hike with me.

His knee injury, sustained while snowboarding years ago, has been the perfect ~~scapegoat~~ excuse for years. It also got him out of wearing a baby Bjorn and running the annual 10k with the older kids.

So, did he bow out when Fitwall posted the hike as a part of the 6 Week Challenge? Nooooo. He took a prescription for inflammation, wore a knee brace and borrowed a hiking pole from my mother-in-law. Yeah, that’s called jumping through hoops.

Yesterday, I woke in the dark to the smell of bacon and eggs and Troy’s enthusiasm. Ugh. A morning person, I am not.

But it was SO. MUCH. FUN. Grunting, gasping, sweaty fun.

And in regard to “The Battle of Wounded Knee,”he’s in the clear. Guess that excuse is not gonna fly anymore. (Watch out husband. The Nagging Spouse is taking notes.)

P.S. What do you do on a cheat day after an 8 mile hike with no knee pain? You celebrate. You drop the babies at your in-laws and take you husband out for a burger and a Patriot game, which they win. Double Score.

The Power of Aligned Goals

Regardless of how you feel about the Patriots, there is no denying that they have dogged fans. In our family, we all get Patriots jerseys as Christmas “presents” almost every year. (One of these years, I’m going to buy Troy an anthology of poetry or ballroom dancing lessons as his “present”)

When I wear one of my many Patriots jerseys, I realize just how many sleeper Patriots fans there are in San Diego. People randomly fist bump me just for the shirt I’m wearing. I don’t have the heart to tell them that I’m not exactly the comrade they think I am.

So when Troy wore one of his Patriots hats, to his Fitwall class, it wasn’t surprising that someone high-fived him for it. But it wasn’t just someone, it was one of the people helping turn his keg into a six-pack. And when she heard what the stakes were, HE gained a comrade.

1-the-power-of-aligned-goals Jen, (The Instructor) like all die-hard Patriots fans, wants her team to go to Super Bowl. Troy (The Sweaty Guy), wants to go to Super Bowl, preferably to see his team play. And I (The Nagging Spouse), want Troy to go to Super Bowl because that means he’s in the best shape of his life. And I’d prefer to see the Patriots, since I have the jersey and all. 😉

Now… if Jen does her part… and Troy does his part… and the Patriots do their part, everyone will be happy. Especially me.

“Injury” in the Six-Pack for Super Bowl Saga

The story begins with our hero, embarking with vigor on his course, full of gusto and invincibility. Then he must endure a powerful setback, you know, to heighten the drama.😉

I hadn’t really considered Troy’s Six-Pack for Super Bowl Challenge a story and therefore did not anticipate the requisite setbacks that must come with good drama. Until today…

I walked into the kitchen to see Troy hopping on one foot in extreme pain while simultaneously holding his profusely bleeding finger over the kitchen drain. Of course, my first thought was concern. I may be a nagging spouse, but I’m not a monster. My second thought, I’m ashamed to say, was how impressed I was at his quick reflexes. All that blood would have been a job to clean (for the uninjured spouse).

I have “nagged” him on multiple occasions about the power of my Wusthof knives. They just sound dangerous. Each time, he, like a truly nagged husband, had looked at me with a look of “duh” on his face.

So as his finger ~~dripped~~ power-dripped blood into the sink, I felt an “I told you so moment” come on but, of course, refrained. Again, not a monster.

“What happened?” I said.

“This damned diet!” he yelled.

To which I said nothing because… ????

“Who in their right mind would eat raw cabbage of their own free will?!”

Again, silence on my part with a look like this 🤔 (mental note: must stop thinking in emojis)

“Now look!” He held his finger up, hangrily. “This would have never happened.”

Again… 🤔 But I’ve lived with Troy for over 15 years. I know when not to call him on faulty logic.

So, like the loving wife I am, I pulled out the bacitracin and 3 bandaids, which I used to gob the bleeding and encase the sliced finger tip.

“I just hope this doesn’t affect my workout,” he said, wiggling his finger and examining my first-aid ~~prowess~~ hack job.

Now, I know you’re likely worried about this preemptive injury in the saga of the Six Pack for Super Bowl but never fear, my Wusthof didn’t mortally wound him and the cabbage wasn’t as bad as he was SURE it was going to be. I think he’ll be ok. #prayforTroy

in-pain

Strangely enough, I didn’t think to document the actual drama so I searched the internet high and low for a decent reenactment of it.

Day 19 of 90 Day Challenge – Progress Report

Troy is still in the game!

Tom Brady’s performance on Sunday helped. But more than the tease of Super Bowl, the ~~pressure~~ joy of seeing everyone follow and comment on his progress has been keeping him motivated.

And Troy is inspiring people too! We’re getting calls and texts from friends to report that they went for their first run (shout out, you-know-who), or made a spinach omelette or started a whole food plan or just tried apple cider vinegar for the heck of it. Guys! This is so cool! I am giddy about it! This is my giddy face.

Yeah, I know.

So the progress…

Troy personally feels that his biggest accomplishment thus far is coming home from a Fitwall class and victoriously proclaiming, “Finished the class and didn’t even feel like I was going to puke! Progress!” Fist bump, high five, ~~nagging~~ supportive spouse kiss. You rock, babe!

One of the hardest things about weight loss is well, it’s hard. And it takes more time than any exercising dieter thinks it should. “Don’t look at the scale!” the professionals scold. But how, when you’re working your butt off, do you not peek at the scale, in the hopes of seeing pounds flying off. Or not flying off.

Troy “peeked”. So far, he’s lost 5 pounds.

But he’s lost 2 inches off his waist. And various other inch-fractions off his body, except his chest and legs. They’ve grown. (How much, you ask? Well, I don’t know. Because, in my single-minded measuring, I didn’t think about the fact he would PUT ON muscle. What a noob.)

He’s also up to 4 pull-ups at a time. Only 4 pull-ups, you say? Try it.

It can’t be that hard, I said. Then I did a single, sorry pull-up, fish-kicking the whole way. (Head hung low)

Troy’s first pull-up.

So we’re truckin! He’s ~~enjoying~~ tolerating a diet high in veggies and protein without anything processed. It’s not for the sophisticated palette, but he’s a trooper.

He’s also in the Fitwall 6 week challenge so that’s, well, challenging. Walking, running, bike riding, garage gym sessions, he’s doing a bit of everything. Overall, he’s spending his days in motion.

Random share:

The other day, I had a fussy baby in one arm and a pestering toddler underfoot. The phone was ringing and I had just knocked over the box of granola. Frustration isn’t the right word.

Through this, Troy is nowhere to be found. Typical, I think. I bet he’s hiding somewhere playing solitaire on his phone. Finally, he walks out of the bathroom with a skip in his step.

“Where have you been?!” I snap. Rhetorical question, obv.

“Weight loss program!” he chirps.

And despite myself, I have to laugh. So crass! But he cracks me up.