View From the Sidewalk
Well I did it. I managed to get my butt up and out of the house two days in a row. Yesterday was the trail, I can post those next, but today was walking to the library and back. Three and a half miles. Walking briskly. In jeans and my winter coat. Took about an hour or so with library time. This is looking over the high school to the North. Clear blue nothing. My legs felt tight but I could have run if I wanted to. This day was a bit misleading. It looked nice. The temp said it was 50 degrees, but it felt cold and damp. And there was some small wind activity in certain directions that made it feel extra chill. And that sun was so bright I felt like I was dizzy. It’s just setting now but I swear it’s trying to go down as brilliantly as it possibly can. I just went to look at it in case I need to take a picture of another magnificent sunset and all I can see are black spots in my eyes. It’s too bright to even try to look at. My smart phone says “Sunny” and “48”. But it should really say “Extra Blindingly Photo Flash Sunny” and “Damp And Clammy 48”. But that’s probably too much information and could get confusing. As for the walking part, I was a sweaty mess when I got back home. My shirt was grossly soaked through. You could see the outline of my bra in the back. That’s another reason why I wear mostly black. Sweat doesn’t show. I am attributing my recent penchant for extra sweatiness (the last year or so) to the extra weightiness I have picked up in that same last year or so. I used to be a cool cucumber. Not anymore. I am a soggy pickle. There’s probably not more I can add after that so I’m going to end this right here. Later.
Denial Ain’t Just a River in Egypt
I will let you decide which noble and majestic, wild beast I will be currently comparing myself to. I’ll give you a hint: It’s not Marty. (That was a layered hint. See, you have to know first of all, that that is a pic of an elephant and a zebra. Then you need to know about the very funny, but child-oriented, movie called Madagascar–the first one–which means you either: have to have kids, have no kids but love cartoon movies, or either have kids or not have kids but LOVE Chris Rock. “Oh I could hang here. I could hang here!” That’s my favorite quote and I have been perfecting my perfect Chris Rock impersonation. It is magnificent!) Much like that elephant above.
I do have a fantastic memory. And I am strong and powerful. And coincidentally, I kind of have a big nose. Luckily, my teeth are good and no tusks are growing out of my head just yet. Unfortunately…I am in current possession of a larger-than-life body to lumber around in. I can deny it no more.
The catalyst for this sudden realization, was clothes shopping at the mall over the weekend, as it most always usually is. It was not, as previously reported here, my mother’s gentle and loving, reality wake-up call, that she gave me a few weeks ago. You can read the whole post here if you want, but if you don’t like to jump around, I can sum it up by telling you she pretty much told me I was a big fat, fatty-bo-batty, in plain, clear English and said I should do something about that. Even though that doesn’t sound funny, it was actually VERY funny. In fact, it still is pretty funny. It makes me laugh just typing it. Only a mom can tell you that you are a cow and it only stings for a second, then it turns into hilarious laughter and a trip to the Starbuck’s to add another winter layer to the protective hide. But back to the mall.
A while back I went to buy some “interview” clothes. And I had the chance to wear them to a job fair and to Thanksgiving dinner. Then my daughter helped me wash the clothes and shrunk my perfectly fitted blouse into a shirt that I could barely get over my arms and shoulders, much less button again. When I say, perfectly fitted, I mean that it was already snug. EXCUSE ALERT!! I have very broad shoulders and a large ribcage with extra boobage, that none of my sisters or mom have. So that’s what I tell myself when I can’t find a nice button up blouse to fit me properly. No matter, that when I look at past pictures, I don’t seem extra large (in women’s clothes–yes, shameful secret, I have to shop in the misses or the women’s section. The juniors are mostly beyond my range and style threshold now. Also, I like my pants unripped and not looking like they got dragged through a dirt pile before I wear them.) Anyway, the point here, is that I was looking for something to wear in case I need to go on an interview. I kind of decided to look on a whim. We were there because my son wanted a suit coat and shirt and tie to wear for his 8th grade graduation pictures this week. (Yay!! Almost there!! He found everything he wanted in 15 minutes. Fits perfectly. Looks sharp. Not so for his mom. Sad face.) I know I know. Just get to the point.
As I was wandering around from store to store, department to department, trying to find a basic blouse to go with plain black dress slacks, I realized that:
1. I felt like a giant dumptruck. I was grossly dressed in ill-fitting jeans screaming for mercy, ripped up shoes and a hoodie, with frizzy hair (sorry A, I know that hurts, it will get better), little make-up and a bad attitude. My own fault. Plus that dread cycle coming up has put me in pity mode for a few days. I hate it, but at least realizing it helps make it go away for me.
2. Patterns are the staple in women’s clothing and they can not only be ugly as hell, but they have the ability to make you instantly feel like an old lady with one bad color scheme.
3. My son and BF are hilarious. They meant to be funny with their comments about the clothes and my size issue. I was gently told I should consider something “not so fitted” especially if the buttons will be straining to stay buttoned. Even when I am standing. OUCH. What??? I have not been totally in the dark about this, but you know, bloating and not drinking enough water, and blah blah blah. My daughter’s new favorite phrase is, “You just got hit by a reality truck!” Well, I got hit by the truck, run over, and then it backed up and ran over me again. It was really the, “Are we going to have to go to Lane Bryant?” comment that pushed me out into traffic. It was said in a totally joking manner with no sarcasm or malevolence at all. But that one stung. Like, I almost cried, stung. And I have a pretty thick skin, like an elephant, metaphorically speaking. Sometimes it completely sucks to be female. For the record, I do still fit in the regular store sizes, I even have a two to three size leeway before I have to give up the general department store or move to the Plus size section. I tried the clothes on, so I know. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with Lane Bryant stores or clothing. It’s just the next level of dressing nice for the bigger girl and NOT resorting to stretchy pants and sweatshirts. Which IS terrible. But that’s not going to happen.
4. My daughter is hilarious and dashed around the clothing racks looking for the perfect blouse because, “It’s not a big deal mom, just start exercising and eating better and it will be fine. You know you can do that.” and just like that, on and on, while she picked stuff out, matched things up and made me try them on while she determined which is the best. All while trying to cheer me up and soothe my hurt feelings with humor and the promise that after we shop we can go eat our last meal of fried greasy food because fried food always makes you feel better. My little Buddha.
I will say, for myself, personally, or for anyone who has the variety pack of kids, and this is most definitely a MUSH ALERT (skip it if you must): I feel extremely lucky to have a boy and a girl to raise and be raised by. They each bring their own unique personalities, and, still being formed, world views to the table along with some staggeringly stereotypical behaviors and ideas, that I can only attribute to their basic gender and gene pool that combine to make them the perfect balance between never wanting them to grow up and leave my sight and life or sending them packing to their dad’s for a long vacation. The definitely keep you grounded and aware of the world even when you don’t want to be. And most of the time they don’t even know they are doing it to you. Yes, I would like to order two of the offspring reality trucks to be delivered to the mall on Sunday. Schedule a drive-by and then a basic run-and-back-over, for about 2 pm. I’ll also take a Diet Coke while I wait. Thank you!
In the end, I bought a few different blouses. I need to dress better anyway. I look like a…well, I don’t know what I look like. I have no style whatsoever. I have been counting on the fact that the whole rest of my life will be in a scrub uniform so who cares. My daughter says I am just a real basic mom. I stay the same. “You’re just the standard jeans and black t-shirt mom. The simple mom. With the same clothes every day and the black shoes.” She struggles with the words but she means it in the most positive way. And since I’m so evenly proportioned, body wise, symmetrical, is what she means. I don’t really get fat in any one area, I just kind of “puff up”.
Now, tell me, who would NOT like to be described as “puffed up”? To make a long story, even longer, I faced my fear. Woke up yesterday, sent the kids to school, did my usual coffee/Words/computer/job search/money search/throw in a load of laundry morning and then suited up to hit the trail for a brisk four mile walk/run. Break the barrier. Start the exercise process again. Ease back into good health and healthy eating. Again. But, before I left the house, I took pictures. Horrible, shameful, lumpy pictures. So bad, I already warned my children to stay off my phone and not to be looking at all my pictures lest they be scarred for life. Nothing naked. It’s clear enough, without the nudity, that I need help. I mean, if we are facing our fears the proper body image is necessary. I have a distorted view of myself as my BF will gladly tell you is true. It’s not what you are thinking though. I see myself as far BETTER looking and THINNER than I actually am. Weird right? I always think I am smaller and weigh less than I actually do. AND, I am always very surprised when I see myself in a picture or in a mirror because that is not how I view myself in my own head. I don’t think I look like a model or anything. I know I don’t. I just over estimate my looks and body size. Probably my sense of humor and skill at writing too, but that never stops me from typing word after endless word. Let me just pause here, to say thank you, if you are still reading this, because with my attention span, I am not so sure I would still be reading me. And also, I hope there are not too many errors, because I really doubt I will go back and check it. Also, I am getting nervous this is taking so long because I have to walk to the library today as my exercise. Briskly, walk to the library. Change it up. Stay fresh. So I don’t quit on the second day.
Back to the post: I did good yesterday. One hour for four miles. Not groundbreaking. Not record setting. But it was outside (45 degrees—50-55 today! Unbelievable) and I did sweat. Then I came home and did something even crazier. Even more dangerous and fear inducing. I weighed myself. On a scale. An actual scale, with numbers, that tell your weight in pounds. I usually judge my weight by the jeans I can fit into. I have the 8-10-11 multi-pack of jean sizes. Different company’s but surprisingly accurate in helping me gauge my weight to within a few pounds. The only problem with my system is that I only have 5 pairs of jeans total to wear and weigh by. Four now. I lost the 10’s in the thigh rub incident of a few days ago (a tragedy I transcribed here some days ago, in far more words than necessary, as is my custom). It’s really a complicated system and sounds kind of confusing when you say it out loud, but the 10’s were the fat jeans. Pushing the highest weight I could go basically while staying UNDER 200 pounds. That is very important as that is the magic number for me. I have never, and will never (hopefully) see that number on a scale. Even pregnant I never hit it. And I tried. Long story…my boy decided to come three weeks early and spoiled my gain plan. Anyway, the 11’s are stretchy. Spandex is a wonder material. So even though the size is technically larger, my butt needs to be smaller to fit in them. But one of the 11’s is stretchier than the other. So it’s a matter of how stretchy do I want them and how comfortable will they be for the whole day? That’s the middle weight. The 8’s are the smallest. Again supposedly with Spandex, but one pair is decidedly stretchier than the other, by far. One pair I feel perfect in.
The other pair though, gives me, what I like to call: The JMT’s. That would stand for Jumbo Muffin Tops. Or “Juffins” as me and Stevie like to cackle about. One day, recently, the muffin tops were really spilling over and we were laughing about how they jiggle when I laugh and get worse when I sit and how I need a tighter buffer shirt to wear under my real shirt to try and skim them over, like frosting on a messed up, cracked and crumbly lumpy cake. I said, ” I don’t just have muffin tops, I have jumbo muffin tops. I have Juffins!” and we laughed hysterically. I am sure I am not the first or only person to have come up with that, but I’m taking credit in my world because I never heard it before and I said it and my daughter and son were there when I did. So that makes it official!
Got all that? Here’s the key to the whole thing. The weight was not as bad as I thought. And even if it was, who cares. I was ready to cry and curse all the delicious food in the world and my lack of willpower and laziness anyway. I still will. Probably forever. Nobody can be good ALL the time. Nobody. The point is I am aware. It is reality. It is not nice or pleasant but it’s OK. I will not reveal the number. It’s too much. But I will say that it is less than my top preggy weight and that is a miracle in itself I will not take for granted. And in the spirit of almost-full discretion, I weighed after the exercise and butt ass naked. Not pretty but I needed any help I could get for this. On the other hand, I am pre-menstrual though and I am a gainer beforehand. I have gone as high as five or six extra pounds. Which I always thought was such a croc and makes no difference, but when you are only 5 foot 5 on a good day, standing rimrod straight and you are over 40, it makes a whole hell of a lot of difference. Obviously I have enough sense of self to not let things go crazy crazy and it also means my jean theory works pretty good. But I need to go buy smaller jeans if I want to keep this up. I read in a magazine that the French ladies tie a ribbon around their waist before they eat and when it gets tighter they stop. Same concept with my jean system. That waist band can only dig into your belly flab for so long and for only so far before it becomes painful and medically dangerous and you must stop. I could bust a spleen sometimes, I wear them so tight.
Alright. For real now. I have to end this. I have stuff to do and miles to walk. My legs is sore! And the temp is up to almost 50 degrees! And it’s sunny! I must go outside! I must stop using so many exclamation points! Thanks for making it all the way to the end! You all get 100 bonus calories to use as you please! Have a great afternoon and I’ll chat back here later with the rest of the stuff I had planned. See you on the sidewalk.
Just because this starts a whole new year. One week late.
And because I get to combine all my favorite things. A chunk update. Another weather update. And pictures from my phone. Of the sky. At sunset. With a lot of skeleton trees. This is what 55 degrees in January at dusk looks like this year. It was warm today too. I don’t generally go for the no jacket thing just because it’s hotter than usual. I’m the first one to yell pneumonia. And we’re all being lured into poor health by good weather. But I’ll admit I was only wearing a zip-up hoodie and I was getting kind of hot outside. The sun was shining down so bright that I was getting crabby and drowsy. The warm sun just makes me want to lay down in it and take a nap. Like a snake I guess. Or a fat middle aged non exercising chunk of fun. Here comes the chunk part! It’s a tough week. I’m more tired than usual. Kind of achy and greasy. And I was particularly sick of feeling sad and depressed. So I spruced up this old carcass a bit with some new hair color (sorry Amanda…I know you are the only one who should be allowed to fix my hair but I swear I cannot drive for two hours, pay for gas and tolls and feel good about myself until I get a job…the box has to be the cure for now…it looks good by the way. The kids didn’t even notice. They thought something was different but couldn’t put their fingers on it until after I told them. My theory on home hair coloring, or anything really that you try to do yourself, is that if no one notices anything different it’s a good job. Only the glaring mistakes or radical change gets any attention) and some good hygiene and hair removal. However I also ate a bunch of crap that I shouldn’t because it was here and I had to get rid of it by next week when the real work on chipping away the fat cells begins. You will all be happy to know that I managed to eat, er, get rid of, all the chips and dip and most of the cheese/sausage/cracker stores. I also disposed of an entire box of Whitman’s Dark Chocolates, with my daughters help, who interestingly enough HATES dark chocolate but was able to power through and help me save our household for the greater good. I also drank the rest of the wine from the other night and am currently working on the final two bags of Ghirardelli chocolates while washing them down with Jack Daniels. I haven’t cooked in a week or worked out. In fact we have been staying up way too late watching the bad movies we love so much. The kids have to go back to school Monday and I should be working by the next week. (That’s very wishful thinking as I am making it my sole purpose in life–well besides eating all the food in the house—to have a job in another week or two.) I will have a full report on the snacks because I took pics of them. Really. For instance, I found this GIANT potato chip in the bag. I mean it was really big. I don’t think I have ever seen one this big. So of course I took it’s picture. With the dip container and the TV remote for scale. I also took pics of the sky and some more trees, big surprise. And I have a movie list if you’re interested! We watch BAD movies. Like B movie bad. With old stars like Debbie Gibson and Tiffany in them. Or Lorenzo Lamas. Remember him? And they usually are battling a giant crocodile or a sharktopus, you know a shark-octopus hybrid, or a giant squid against a giant snake. Some are better than others and some are just terrible. This is how we spend family time. As for tonight, I have to try and hurry this along, because the BF is on his way with another sack full of fast food from the local greasy spoon and we have a special night of, All New Releases!, to watch. They have to be back tomorrow so we have to plan our time carefully. I actually feel a little sick right now from the food I ate today. I know this is not something I should even say out loud, but I cannot wait until I get my dang period! (pardon my french). My appetite will disappear, I can get some energy back and hit the gym instead of the Dunkin Donuts, and burn off the winter weight. From about 10 winters but who’s really counting anymore. I only have about 10 pounds to lose (for each winter) so it’s pretty do-able! I’m excited. Oh! I almost forgot! I finished a book! A reading book. Not a school book. It was the Denis Leary one. You might have read about it here two years ago or so. Sadly, that’s how long it has taken me. I finished it last year. Made it just under the mark too. Like December 29th or something. I still recommend it for anyone who likes Denis Leary. It is funny and easy to read. Even my mom’s brain surgeon said, “that guy is something else…” and he chuckled. So there you have it, a brain surgeon endorsement! I’m just not good with the whole concentration thing in sentence and paragraph form without a lot of pictures to break up the words. Except for when I type. I can really string some letters together huh? I put a picture of the book below so I wouldn’t ruin my sunset shot. Oh! And I also found my first street money of the year. One penny and one dime. I will try and keep that up to date now. Just as soon as I tally up last year and post it under its proper heading. There’s just no excuses for letting all you loyal readers down. You want to know these silly mundane things that have no benefit to anyone. And I cant even keep up. And truthfully I am not doing much else besides sitting around and thinking about doing stuff. I’m lucky we have laundry. Alright, seriously, let me wrap this up. I know the BF will be here any minute and I want to catch up on my Words With Friends (evil evil evil—addiction in smart phone form) and BeJeweled (the other evil in the world of computers and high tech gaming–that was meant to be funny. BeJeweled is hardly high tech. It’s really no-tech. It’s pretty though. Match the gems for one minute. Try to score as many points as possible. Why, oh why, would that ever be addicting??) Ok, I think I hear a car in the driveway and my liquor glass is empty. Using the words from my son’s first book that he really liked…breathe and think…relax and run…om shanti shanti…Until later…
Weather Update!
Going with a blue theme. And continuing with the “people reflected in ornaments/windows/etc..” theme. That’s Stevie. I am still trying to take down the decorations, so I have to use up the rest of these holiday themed pictures. I figure I can push it another week and that’s really it. Also, I meant to update the weather yesterday because I know my cousins depend on me to fill this internet space, and their valuable time, with information they can easily get by walking outside. Plus it’s been real nice. Like unseasonably nice. So nice that there is talk now of: “THE HORRIBLE WEATHER TO COME!!” Dun dun dun. We love predicting blizzards and snowfall that will be higher than our houses. Eh. I say it’s fine. It’s not really a matter of, one month of nice equals 3 months of crappy. It all depends on the winds and the atmosphere and the isotopes and all that meteorological stuff. If the world wants to warm up and top off right about here, I’m good with it. I’ll take rain and wind over white-outs and sleet any day. Anyway, it was a balmy 45 in the daytime yesterday and dropped to about 33 or so by night. It was very windy but I thought it felt kind of good. So imagine my surprise this morning when it was snowing! And some even stuck to the grass! Right now, at 5 pm, Monday, it’s cold. Not ridiculous cold, 23 degrees, (which I guess is pretty cold actually), but it’s not snowing. And it’s not too windy so it feels ok. Besides, I hear 50 degrees is on the way again by the end of the week. Yay! Global warming!
So that’s my update for now. No phone calls for any jobs today but I’m sure they will tomorrow. This is the year of positive thinking, all day, every day. I’m also going to go to the store and buy myself another interview blouse. I love Stevie doing the laundry for me, but she washed and dried my already snug blouse, and now it’s a little too small for me to stuff my upper body into. You know that scene in Tommy Boy? Fat guy in a little coat? Picture sausage arms in a black fitted blouse. Three quarter sleeves are not sexy when they are so tight your forearms have fat rolls. And speaking of rolls…I also need to purchase a pair of jeans (or two). I’ve lost another pair of jeans to the “thigh rub hole”. That’s where your jeans wear and tear at the place where your legs touch at the upper thigh area. Not everyone has this problem. Some people actually have a space between their legs and the material never touches. I say good for them. I am jealous, but can’t seem to ever exercise enough to open that gap. I guess it’s a lipo thing. But back to me. I am not now, nor have I ever been, one of those people. I am a thigh toucher. A corduroy avoider. I cannot be making noises while wearing my clothes (swish swish swish) c’mon, some of you know what I’m talking about. Besides that, I have other stuff that needs to be done on the big transformative 2012. Like get skinny. Well, not skinny. I am aiming for pre-child weight. I’d say baby weight but it’s been 14 years so that’s kind of pushing it. It’s probably attainable as long as I stop welcoming the day with Krispy Kreme doughnuts. (So tasty though, and if you microwave them to just the right temp you can literally smoosh them into a small enough lump that can fit into your mouth whole! That seems healthy!)
OK this wasn’t supposed to be this long. This is my third paragraph of winding this up. My kids have left again to go have dinner with their dad, and the BF is on the way with Chinese food. We were supposed to go to the gym as part of the new year, new you, but since they left unexpectedly and it’s really still kind of sort of a holiday technically legally recognized based on the fact that all of the banks and libraries are closed and there was no mail as an excuse to continue the bad habits until tomorrow when the year officially begins, this is what I am doing for just one more day. Posting. Eating. And half-ass laundrying and undecorating. I did manage to throw alot of junk food away today and will send the rest packing with the BF to his office tomorrow. One thing done. I even cleaned out the garage a little bit and have much garbage prepared for the morning. Two things! And now I will really end this post so I can clear a space on our table so we can settle in and let the food shoveling begin.
PS. For Amanda: Guess what the BF was getting me today at work? Are you ready for a really really really really long winter of annoying posts?? Are you? P. 90. X. 2. Yep. TWO. T-W-O. The second version. Doesn’t matter if I can’t even finish the first set. I shall attempt 90 days of one and then 90 days of two. I will fail I am sure. BUT. I can annoy you with it for 6 months!!! Happy New Year my darling sister!!! XO XO XO, or should I put, P90 X-O (hee hee hee) Forevah!
Happy New Year 2012!
Well it’s here! Thank goodness because I, seriously, could barely stay up to wait for it. And look at that adorable champagne! Isn’t that cute? Barefoot Bubbly? It just begs you to drink it! As we were walking the liquor aisles looking for something to buy for midnight we came across a whole shelf of these Moscato wines and champagnes. I have been hearing about them from some of my friends. And I think the opinions are all favorable. But. I still wouldn’t know. Sadly, I really was too tired and sick feeling to try and drink anything else. And, I did NOT drink a bunch before hand. DID NOT. We had some appetizer type snacks and some cheap red wine while watching the Dick Clark/Ryan Seacrest New Years show. So lame right? I did see New York have New Year so that’s something. Anyway, nothing was over the top or too strong, but I really stink at eating or drinking anything, besides water, after 8 or 9 pm. I guess it has to do with the over 40 thing or the Fat thing…not sure, but at any rate, if I eat too late my stomach kind of gets stuffed feeling and I feel like I will be sick. Plus I get heartburn if I try to lay down. It’s annoying, but it’s probably saving me from gaining any more weight. If I want to eat I have to cram it all in by the early evening. It’s almost like a gastrointestinal challenge. A gross and disgusting challenge and one you really do not want to win.
Anyhoo, I am about to head over to hang out with my family for the day and eat just a few more hours of gross and disgusting until we all call it quits by morning. You know, resolutions and all that. Lose weight, eat healthy, go to the gym, feel better…all the usual stuff we say and only manage to do for about a week or two. This year I am supposed to run a 6 mile race with my sissy and another 10 miler I want to do just for me. Can’t do it cold. Those days are long gone. Can’t do at nearly 200 pounds either. Well, I guess I could, but yikes! I don;t want to! Dang it! Also, I need that job I was talking about last night. That’s my first priority and I will be making that happen this week come hell or highwater. (Don’t you love that phrase? I do.) And once I get that job and get my first few paychecks I will be signing the kids up to the gym. That way none of us has any excuse to sit on the couch and be chunky. If we all have to go there is no excuse for not going at all. My kids need me! Sorry guys! Happy New Year! More exercise!
Alright I am out of here. Notice that in the picture above there is ANOTHER self-portrait! What the heck is going on?? I must be crazy putting myself out there! Feel free to send me any comments if you have them, even if it’s a resolution of your own. Once it’s out in the air it can’t be broken! Extra incentive! The world will know your shame and failure if you don’t succeed! There’s a cheery and inspirational thought! Enjoy your day wherever you are! Later!
Doctor Rita has diagnosed my ailment!
After extensive research that included reviewing all my symptoms, observing my behavior, and a long wait in her brain surgeon’s office, she delicately broke the bad news to me that I was, what they like to call in the medical world: F. A. T.
Thanks Mom! And yes, that is a picture of a slug up above. It was crawling on our garage one balmy autumn morning as we have had quite the unusual temperate temperatures around here lately. So much so that slugs are actually slime-ing all over the buildings to remind me of my dread disease. I figured it was appropriate now that I am aware of the root of all my medical problems.
Believe it or not, it was pretty funny when she kindly said to me, “You know, all these problems, I think it’s just because, you know, you’re really starting to put on the weight…” As she trailed off while pointing to my overall fatness and touching her lower face and chin area at the same time, remarking, “You’re getting more chins than me…you should probably do something about that.” It really was hilarious. I was so surprised. Not shocked. Because she is right. I have kind of porked up these last few months despite my strict exercise program of working out once every two weeks or so. But it really wasn’t what I expected her to say. And it was so matter of fact that we just sat there, across from each other for a minute and then I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. We were laughing like truly brain damaged people in the brain surgeon’s office over my giant fat body…I said, “Geez mom, way to break it to me gently: ‘Oh, by the way, you have more chins then a Chinese phone book, do something about that would ya…’ ” No offense intended to anyone, but that made us laugh even harder.
If you can’t count on your mom to give it to you straight who can you count on? So I weighed myself when I got home. It’s bad. And I just weighed myself today and I think it’s worse. I actually went to the gym too. Several times. So I am going with my original diagnosis which is a growing, but benign tumor that is adding weight to my body without my knowledge. Too bad the tumor is probably made of cookies and pizza and alcohol. Anyway, I got three days of exercise in last week and three days in this week, but I haven’t reduced my intake by enough to make me hungry and crabby. That’s how you know. Get ready for some crabby ass posts next week because it will NOT be pretty. That first week is going to SUCK. I hate starving myself but it seems to be the only way to jump start any kind of weight loss and to kill the taste for those delicious fatty, greasy, sugary, sweet, savory treats that are so available this time of year. I will only say that I have remained inside the 100’s weight-wise, but if I don’t stop the train now, I am going to careen off the track into the 200 pound valley of pain. It’s bad enough that my skin is stretching to its maximum limits. It’s letting loose and I can tell it wants to go all floppy. But I can’t be weighing more than my mother now so the end is near. Damn. Why does food have to taste so good??
Alright. Speaking of food, I have to go and have breakfast with my sister-in-law since it’s her birthday today. Happy Birthday Carole! Even though she doesn’t read this, but she would appreciate the shout out none the less. I will try to order healthy and prepare myself for the coming days. A lot of damage can be done when you give up and say, “What the hell.” I don’t want to have to lose any more weight than I already have on me.
So, to sum up: I am not dying of carbon monoxide poisoning. Not having strokes. Probably don’t have lupus. No MS or any one of the degenerative nerve diseases. No tumors. My mom has ruled all these serious illnesses out and has slapped me back to reality. My name is….and I am a fat ass.
I love you mom. See you in a few days.
just shy of pretty 