Fatty Boombalatty

I am so frustrated with myself.  I had at one point gotten down to an acceptable 155 lbs that I was quite happy with, but over the course of the months of having a miserable job wherein all I do is sit on my ass, I have managed to gain back 25 lbs in a relatively short period of time.

I have had a life long struggle with my weight.  And this 25 pounds just discourages me and depresses me even further because I feel like I am losing the tenuous self control I had on myself.  And it just seemed to happen overnight.

Logically, I know what to do.  Exercise, and eating healthy.  Believe me, I know.  I have spent most of my life researching both.  I know exactly what I should do; it's just having the motivation to do it that I find the most difficulty with.

And this is where I cast the blame on everyone but myself:

1. We don't have the money to join the gym or the Y.
2. We don't have the money to spend on healthy food so that's why I'm eating pasta instead of salads.
3. I don't have the energy after dismal days at work to even think about exercising before or after my 8.5 hours of hell that I have to spend on earth every day.
4. Burgers and fries taste so much more awesome than turkey and steamed vegetables.
5. Water tastes like spit, diet soda is just as good.

I just feel so fucking hungry all the time.  And it feels like I have nothing else to turn to.  I don't drink, don't smoke, don't have any hobbies, nothing else to distract me from wallowing in my misery.

So tell me, what do you do?  My mother is getting her pool in order so I'm going to start swimming again, which is awesome, because it is exercise in which I don't have to sweat, and I do love to swim, so there's that, but what else?

I need some other distractions, people.  Because I long ago gave up the goal of being the perfect 10.  I just want to feel comfortable, happy, and healthy in my own skin.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

Though honestly, my dream Mood Ring(tone) is:

We Are More Beautiful Than We Think...

I don't care if the basic idea of this project was to sell a product, this is one of the most amazeballs marketing campaigns I have ever seen, and I think that all women should have some sort of evaluation of themselves done by someone other than themselves.

Because we are our own worst critics.

And we are all beautiful.  It stuns me that we can see the beauty in other people that we love:  we can overlook the receding hairlines, the pot-bellies,the gray hairs, the wrinkles, the pimples, the saggy skin of our loved ones, but then we look in the mirror, and that's all we see in ourselves.

I am my own worst critic.  But I can honestly tell you that every person that I love in my life, I find beautiful and I don't even think about the other very superficial things that I hate about myself when I see them.

And not to exclude anyone, but we chubby girls are the WORST when it comes to that. Not that I blame us completely; society has always told us that we are ugly, that we deserve less, that we are the lowest of the low.  And we bought into that.  And walk around with our heads hung low, shoulders hunched over, trying to not be noticed.

Well, fuck that.  I'm not saying that I'm going out and buying a tube top and a mini-skirt tomorrow, but at the very least, I am going to go out and feel okay about my gray roots and my flabby thighs and drooping boobs.

And I just may put a bejeweled crown on my head and a blingy Hello Kitty necklace around my neck because why the hell not. I've earned it.

My Mood Ring(tones) Of The Day:

Do not go gentle into that good night...

And I don't plan to, motherfucker.  Oh my god, I'm old.  I'm so old, I'm like, "what the fuck, you're over 40?" old.

No, I'm sorry.  I am not embracing the whole "grow old gracefully" theory.  I hate it.  I hate every wrinkle, every thinning and gray hair, every fat dimple on my body.

What brought this on is that one of my acquaintances in my former life in Atlanta just posted about how she turned 50...

.http://www.atlantamagazine.com/hollisgillespie/2013/02/01/scene-stealers

(BTW, I love her, she is hilarious, and you should check her out...)

But still...she just turned 50.  I don't know why this struck me harder than seeing Facebook pictures of my college friends sporting gray hair and having 20 year old kids, but it did.

Maybe because she's always been a role model of mine: slightly older, always glamorous, witty, and smart, and she's accomplished what I always wanted to in life...she's being paid for her wit and humor and writing ability and is still fashionable and beautiful and stylish.

As she well deserves, because from knowing her in the "old days", she's been through her struggles as well.  And she had the guts to hang in there through the struggles, and continue with what she was passionate about and is finally successful at doing something she loves.  Writing...for a living...successfully.

I wish in my younger years I'd been more self-confident, with a higher self-esteem, and the courage to just go for it.  But I didn't.

And so now I'm here...not a terrible life, but not a spectacular one either.

Incidentally, have you ever seen the movie "Defending Your Life"?  Because it is my favorite movie of all times and pretty much sums up how I feel about my existence on this earth.

Albert Brooks...you are the only one who gets me.

Sometimes It's Hard To Be A Woman

So one of the girls I work with stopped by to talk to me and took one look at my hands and said, "Oh wow...I don't think I've ever seen your nails like that."

Like what?  Not manicured?  Yeah, I suppose you have not, heifer.  Thanks for noticing.

Did I mention that the Rottenator and I are saving up to buy a second car so we've cut out the "extras"?

And extras mean nails and haircuts and perfume and food other than Hamburger Helper and Beans and Rice...

But it's for a good cause.  And I'm on board...kinda...though I do miss my nails.

I don't miss the process, however.  I always enjoyed the look of my nails after a manicure, but I never enjoy the sitting and making conversation with complete strangers.  Just do my nails, okay?  No time for chit chat, not necessary.

Different from a pedicure. I do love a spa pedicure, I have to say.  I'm all about massages and pedicures and that sort of pampering.

But nails and haircuts; those I see almost as doctor's appointments: necessary, but not exactly enjoyable.

I do miss my perfume, though.  I've recently discovered Jo Malone, who is a "perfumer" I guess, I don't know the technical term for it, from London, and every scent she has is deliciously yummy!  I ordered a samplers pack of her fragrances from Ebay before the lockdown on the cash, and fell in love.

She makes me feel girly.  I'm not the girliest of girls but I do like to feel pretty on occasion. I find it's more and more difficult the deeper into my 40s I get.

It's weird: a part of me, especially when I was really heavy, wanted to be someone that just disappeared into the crowd and was barely noticed, but that's an odd feeling, too.  Because now I am just a middle-aged generic woman who is easily forgotten, never gets a second look, and is just kind of...there.

First world problems, right?  That being said, I do miss the days of being able to dye my hair purple, wear Doc Martens and Hello Kitty, and have my tongue pierced.

Those were the days...but I wasn't any happier then.  It's funny how the older we get, the more we romanticize our past instead of remembering how it really was.

All being said, life is okay right now.  And if skipping a few nail appointments and hair cuts means that I can see Harry Potter and we can get another car, I'll make the sacrifice.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of The Day:

An Ode To Two Assholes

And for once I am not talking about the Rottenator.

1. My tulip tree.

But, let me clarify, and I just found this out!  What we call "tulip trees" in the south are actually these:

Saucier Magnolias.  It makes sense, southern, magnolia, etc.  But this paragraph in particular struck me:


Saucer Magnolias flower here in early March, and flowers appear before the leaves. I call these trees "frost trees" as they always seem to flower and bring on a killing freeze. This habit is their primary disadvantage, as the flowers are blitzed by freezes in one out of every four to five years.  

Yes they god damn do.  The day after this stupid fucking tree bloomed, we were hit by 20 degree weather and the damn blossoms turned brown and fell off.  I didn't even have the heart to take a picture of it, I was so depressed.

This is what it is supposed to look like in full bloom.

But mine never does.  It is the bane of my existence, because I fucking love this tree, it is my favorite type of tree of all times, and it never fails to disappoint.

Maybe because it is delicate and fragile...like me.

Anyway, one hard freeze later, and the damn thing is dead.  I'm super pissed.  That's why this tree is an asshole.

Asshole # 2:

This is only a minor example of the damage the Nooge has inflicted on Bella Cucina in the two days that the Rottenator has started training on his new schedule at his new job.  Which means that he is not here during the day and there is a slight disruption in the Nooge's routine and he has not reacted favorably.

This picture does not include opened cabinets, bottles of spices overturned, cans of diet coke spilled.

Really, cat?  Two days of being left alone and this is how you react?  Aren't you supposed to sleep during the day anyway?

Well, the Rottenator returns to an overnight shift Sunday night so maybe the Nooge will stop acting out and destroying my house which I am too tired to clean at the moment.

He is currently in quarantine because he has overturned our lamp and busted a light bulb for the umpteenth time and has attacked me every time I dared to move.

I think my friend Birdie had the right idea when she suggested crating.  It can't just work for dogs, can it?

And speaking of, the Rottenator desperately wants one. I am more hesitant.  Mostly, because I am not a dog person.  And they smell.  And I cannot even fathom the amount of damage that will be inflicted upon my house should we disrupt the Nooge's routine even more by introducing a sibling.

He is definitely the ruler of all he surveys and don't you forget it.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:

God, I will never not love Britpop.  It will always speak to my soul.

 

Well, that went well

So, Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I have to say...it went better than expected.

Not that the Rottenator wasn't horrible.  Lemme tell you, that one was trying to get out of going to my fam's house until the very second we were in the driveway and he was pouting: "You don't care, you don't care, I don't want to do this and you just don't care!"

Well, it's too late now, buddy, get out of the fucking car.

And though he would never admit it, he actually had (dare I say it) a good time.  At least a good time for him.

But the weeks leading up to it, his impending doom, were god awful.  He was like a petulant child, a loud bully, and a grumpy old man all balled into one.

I really wasn't sure if our relationship was going to handle it.  He did not understand how important him meeting my family was to me, and I had no idea of the sheer panic and terror coursing through his veins at the very thought of spending the day with a "bunch of strangers".

He honestly almost had a heart attack.  I have been known to suffer from a bit of social anxiety myself, but never had I witnessed someone about to have a full blown panic attack over the thought of, in my eyes, hanging out with people who are basically going to be a part of our lives for a long, long time.

Sickly green, clammy, sweaty, riding in silence, I was beginning to wonder if it was really worth it.  But I also knew that once he got there, it would be fine.  It would be good for him, and it was completely necessary if we were going to be together.

Melodramatic on both of our parts, I know.

But it was such a good time.  My sister and brother in law were the perfect hosts, and by the time the day was ending, there was smack talk about upcoming football games (thank God everyone's teams won), and the Rottenator was helping himself to food and walking around, and my niece, the 6 year old flirt, was flinging stuffed animals in his direction.

All signs of a successful gathering.  And the best part?  I didn't have to suffer any consequences!  In fact, I was told that even though it certainly wasn't going to be an every weekend kind of a thing, the Rottenator wouldn't be completely opposed to attending such an event again!  And no, I do not have any photographic evidence to prove that this momentous event actually happened, because I didn't want to push my luck, so you'll have to just take my word for it.

Needless to say, I am thrilled.  I can't promise a Christmas reunion this year, but the possibilities are endless.

Speaking of Christmas, what the fuck is this?

Sacrilegious, that's what it is.

Also speaking of Christmas, because of this:

We will not be having a tree this year.  Bummer.  I love a Christmas tree, but I also don't want to spend every second of every day keeping a certain someone from knocking it over or climbing up it.  So, plans are in the works to have a tree outside on our side porch.

In the meantime, I've got this on our front door:

And I've decorated every inch of our house with lights.  I took most of these pics in the dark, because the lights are so much glowier that way (except the first one, obvs...)

And now...to the worst part of the holiday season.

We ventured forth to the 9th circle of hell (aka Walmart) to witness the spectacle of Black Friday because the Rottenator had never witnessed it before.  As he watched with open-mouthed shock at the dregs of humanity that knocked each other over for $5 video games, I stood out of harms way and took horrified pictures.

This is the exact opposite of what I think the holiday season should be about.

See, I love Christmas.  The Rottenator does not understand this because he does not have happy memories of Christmas.  To me, Christmas is not just about giving gifts, or getting great bargains, or Santa, or Jesus, or the lack thereof.

I still hold onto the belief that Christmas is the time that we, as people, (in general), treat each other as we should treat each other every other day of the year.  Yes, I have worked retail during the holidays, and, yes I have been yelled at or cursed out because we didn't have the newest or hottest toy in stock at rock bottom prices for parents consumed with the obsession of fulfilling their little spoiled brat's every superficial dream.

But still I manage to hold onto the feeling that at Christmas: everything is beautiful and sparkly, and magical, and if it makes just one more person treat another a little better than they normally would on an average day, then it's worth it to celebrate.  No matter what religion you follow...or don't follow.

Cheesy?  Probably.  Sappy and sentimental, absolutely.  And I don't care.

I mean, seriously, watch this video and tell me you don't feel a little bit happier today.

My  Mood Ring(tones) of the Day:

And this.

Happy Christmas Month, mother fuckers!




 

30 Days of Thanks...in one post or less

Tis the season...

1. My family
2. My job
3. Money
4. Normalcy
5. The Internet
6. Cable
7. Top Chef
8. Brit Pop
9. Razors
10. Makeup
11. Hair Color
12. Bras
13. Insight
14. My Brain...most days
15. The Rottenator...some days
16. E-cigs
17. Buffy
18. New York City & London
19. Cell phones
20. Diet Cherry Pepsi
21. Electricity
22. Freedom of religion, or the freedom not to have any religion at all
23. My country
24. Cars, and the ability to drive them
25. Forgiveness
26. Christmas
27. Snow
28. The ability to appreciate beauty in almost anything
29. Inner peace
30. Spell Check

Modern Family Reunion

Yes, today was the much anticipated family reunion that I have been looking forward to for weeks, and it was all that and a bag of chips.  Or, more specifically, all that and a yummy bucket of Frogmore Stew, potato salad and entertaining relatives.

It couldn't have been nicer.  It was in honor of my aunt's 75th birthday and her son hosted it at his gorgeous house and we all showed up looking our most gorgeous selves and it was SO much fun to reminisce, eat, laugh, reconnect, and catch up on what we've all been up to the past few decades.

I wish I had more pictures but my phone camera sucks, and I don't have a real camera, so I'll have to await pics posted by my sister before I can update and steal them, but in the meantime I will post two that I have stolen from my cousin...or should I say, my long lost sister.

My real sis, cousin-sister, and me!

 See, that shorty in the middle is our cousin Miss Priss as she is affectionately known, and she's actually our double cousin because her mom is our mom's cousin, and her dad is our father's brother, so I guess it's safe to say our family tree doesn't branch out too far.  Hey, we are Southern.

Don't we look beautiful though?  This is only an example of the beauty present at the reunion.  Here is the first generation, brothers and sisters from whom we have all inherited our good looks, our biting sarcasm, our wit and humor, our downright orneriness at times, and our excessive sweat glands and unruly hair.

The OG Originals

No, we are not perfect, and we have our foibles and faults, but I love these people with all my heart.

There were no wrinkles, no gray hairs, expanded waistlines, old standing feuds, or petty disagreements present.  There was just...family.  And it was beautiful.

I wish my crappy camera could have done justice to the beautiful flower arrangements on the tables, but you'll have to take my word that they were spectacular as well.

But alas, there was no tunafish gravy.  But maybe next time.  And as a promise to my uncle, I'll work a little harder to regain my Southern accent and stop sounding so much like a damn Yankee.

I hope everyone else had a good weekend.  I'm off tomorrow on a business trip to the NJ/NYC area.  The Rottenator and the Nooge will be left without supervision yet again...god help us all...more specifically, God help my house...and the Nooge.  I hope it's not too much like Thunderdome.

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day (in preparation for my trip):

Sacrilicious

So, I woke up in a pensive mood today.  Actually, I stepped off the scale in a pensive mood, which, actually, is quite a different feeling than I normally have when dealing with that monster.  Pensive because my weight had fluctuated by 5 lbs from yesterday, so I was immediately like..."what the fuck..." but not in an angry or confused way, more like a calm acceptance of the fact that the scale really is not an accurate tool in which I should judge my success or failure at this diet experiment because I seriously have not adjusted my caloric intake by the extreme amount that it would take to make that much of a difference in my heft...or lack thereof.

And this got me thinking...sure, I originally started this lifestyle change to achieve what most women want...physical perfection.

Even though I lie to myself and say it's because I want to get healthy.  Or lied, I should say, as in the past tense.

See, I work with a very sweet girl that I like very much who lives with lupus. It is a horrible, debilitating painful disease for which there is no cure.  She lives in pain every day, and never complains, is warm, friendly, funny, kind, and spiritual.  In a very non-annoying way, because normally, these are qualities that I disdain in a person (Kidding! I joke!  Kinda...)

And it got me to thinking about my own health and how blessed I really am that I don't wake up every day in pain, that other than a few extra pounds, an occasional backache, or a bloody stump of a toe, I am relatively healthy and pain free.  So what the hell am I bitching about?

The fact is that I have been so lucky to enjoy relative good health in my life, other than illnesses caused by my own foolish behavior.  And how easily have I forgotten that a little over 18 months ago I was in an intensive care unit while this amazing body that I detest and deride every day fought as hard as it could to keep going.

This body that I take for granted, that I criticize for sagging or bulging or wrinkling has actually served me very well these past 40 years and still I complain about it and treat it like shit.  I have pushed it to the very limits of its endurance, and still it carries on, gives me very little problems, and keeps me going.  Literally.

While I was recovering, after one of my numerous blood tests, my doctor informed me that he was concerned about my thyroid levels.  They were a low, and he wanted to keep an eye on them because he was hesitant to put me on any medication to treat it because he wasn't a fan of taking that serious of a step and he wanted to see if the problem would correct itself.

Well my body was like:

And boom, it took care of business.  Next visit...perfect thyroid levels.

Even during the times I didn't want to go on, it never gave up, and kept fighting.

So, my philosophy has changed.  I'm not going to berate myself or it by denying it when it wants a piece of chocolate, but neither am I going to torture it by forcing down a double whopper with cheese because of misplaced anger or frustration.

And I'm not going to stare in the mirror making fun of it, degrading it, or humiliating it any more.  Quite frankly, I'm going to work hard at showing it the respects it deserves, and cherishing it for everything it has done for me.

My Mood Ring(tone) Of the Day:

The current state of my fitness plan...

*sigh* Oh, well.  Tomorrow is another day.

In the meantime, I am enjoying the closing of the Olympic ceremonies.  Rule Britannia!  It was like the soundtrack of my formative years was playing.  My Anglophilia was reborn.

So was my love of one Liam Gallagher.

God how I did and do love that man.

Vast improvement on the hair front.  Would have a pic tonight but as I sit here with a Biore strip across my nose I feel that now is not the appropriate time.

The Rottenator is out of town and though I'm used to being by myself at night, he is usually only five minutes away whereas tonight he is 2.5 hours away so it is a little different.  And the Nooge isn't helping matters; every pop and creak of the house causes him to jump and stare blankly into dark shadows with black eyes which is not the most soothing thing in the world.

So, I'm off to bed while I am still relaxed enough to sleep.  I did get some cleaning done today, as well as my nails, so overall...successful weekend.  We'll just forget about the hot fudge sundae that served as my lunch and roll on.

Sistahs Are Doin' It For Themselves

So, my sister and I decided to get our hair did this weekend (our respective hairs, we don't share one unfortunately, in this case).

My sister's ultra awesome, glamorous and professional do:

My homestyle...style(?)

Really?  And note the paleness...I'm surprised I even showed up on camera.  Needless to say, Feria to the rescue tonight...God willing...

Hopefully I'll take the towel off my head and look exactly like the girl above.

*sigh* But that's okay; whenever I start to feel really awful about myself, I just pull up this image and feel a HELL of a lot better.

Though I can't imagine Alyson Hannigan would feel the same...

My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day (in honor of my hair):

Though on second thought...this video is more appropriate to describe the mood of my hair...in that I hate every aspect of it...

Saboteur!

So, obviously, I can only diet when the Rottenator is at work, because on his days off, he likes to frequent the buffets which I do not enjoy on the whole, but I am powerless to resist any offer of food, especially when it is in abundance.

*sigh*

I'm also unable to resist free food, and there was an ice cream social at work today, so of course I partook. 

Did I stop with one scoop of vanilla ice cream?  Did I bypass the ice cream in favor of the fresh fruit which was also being offered?

Oh, please, honestly?  Don't be silly; of course I made a big ass sundae complete with strawberry, chocolate, and caramel sauce, topped by Butterfinger bits, peanuts and whipped cream.

I am weak.  I can't wait to step on the scale tomorrow and see my weight-loss of seven pounds being stripped away in a matter of seconds.

But I didn't dissolve into true madness after counting up my calories on My Fitness Pal and come home and devour pepperoni slices, Tostitos Hint of Lime chips with dill dip, or even an Oatmeal Cream Pie.  I was even honest with my 350 calorie surplus and my lack of water intake. 

And I stopped eating for the night.  I also have not had a cigarette today, so I can officially say this is my first day of not smoking.  Yes, I vaped to get my nicotine fix, and although it is not a perfect solution it is certainly better than the alternatives.

Which are lung cancer, emphysema, heart disease, and murder (of loved ones and innocent strangers).

So, I consider today a relative success.

Also, my tulip tree is blooming again, which is a wonderful surprise, because it bloomed once over the spring, then we had a hard freeze, which turned all the beautiful flowers black with a quickness.  I didn't expect to see them again until next season, but here is proof that this god forsaken summer hasn't killed all of nature's beauty.

I really wish I had a better camera and a better cell phone, but you get the idea of how pretty this bloom is I hope.

All for now, long day, but tomorrow is casual day at work so I get to dress comfortably, and it's Friday, yay!

My Mood  Ring(tone) of the day:

God Doesn't Like Stubby

Every day when I arrive home and ease my bloody stumps out of my dress shoes, I am reminded of the following episode of Modern Family:

http://www.movieweb.com/tv/TEIT4dC4EJneLP/jay-gets-gloria-new-shoes

 

Why can't we all just wear comfy shoes at all times?  The world would be a much happier place.

But then again, the world would also be a place filled with eye sores like this:

And this:

Incidentally, it's scary how much that damn cat looks like the Nooge...very.

So, I ask you, is it really worth it?  On most days I would say hell no, but today...I'm torn.

But not that much. 

My Mood Ring(tone) Today:

Dedicated to the Rottenator.

 

Struck By Lightening

I saw my first lightening bug tonight. As if the 90 + degree heat and oppressive humidity weren't enough to alert me to the fact that summer is here, this sealed it.

Do you guys have lightening bugs (or fireflies, or glowworms, however you call them) where you are or are they strictly a southern thing?  I love them.

Of course, I'm a sucker for anything that glows.

To my sister: Hey!  Remember that time when you were little and we saw that lightening bug fly into the spider web and then the spider got him and slaughtered him mercilessly and then we had to tell you that he had escaped and flew away but it was pretty obvious by his frantic buzzing  that he was in the throes of death?  Yeah...remember that?  Good times.

I hope we can afford to get the air conditioner in the old beater fixed for summer or driving around in this heat is gonna be a bitch...and so am I.

How I'm Feeling Today:

Spanx For Nothing

Well, the Rottenator is off to work, so you know what that means: par-tay up in herra!  Actually, what that normally means is "cleaning frenzy for Kathleen" but I'm caught up on my cleaning, so I'm bored and I decided: "Hey, what better way to cure this boredom than to add a little dash of self-loathing to the mix to spice things up a bit?"

So, in preparation for my new career, which begins on Tuesday, I decided to give my Spanx a test drive. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what Spanx are; there's probably no woman on the planet who doesn't know someone who owns a pair if they do not in fact own one themselves.

Incidentally, the woman who created Spanx, Sara Blakely, is one of my heroes along with JK Rowling.  She's a fucking BILLIONAIRE, yo.  That's with a "B".  That's not why she's my hero; she's one of my heroes because she came about being a billionaire all on her own, from nothing, sewing panty hose onto underwear in her little place in the ATL (holla!) while supporting herself as a single mom.  That's fucking amazing.  JK Rowlings has much the same story, only she was a single mum.  I love these women.

That's what makes this so painful, not as painful as trying on my Spanx, but close.

See, I've been hearing what a miracle this garment is, so of course I had to try it.  I have a lot of imperfect anatomical parts, but the one that's bothered me the most, even since losing weight, is my tummy.  I still have a muffin top no matter how much dieting and exercising I avoid doing, so I thought Spanx would be a great way to help out in that area until I get my membership to the Y, which is dependent on my first pay check in three weeks. I opted for this little number right here .

So tonight, I tried them on...I would insert a photo here of me in said Spanx but I don't think you're ready for that. Hell, I'm not even ready for that.  And I don't want to get sued for sexual harassment or personal injury to eyeballs, so I'll just spare you that image.  I'll leave the sexual imagery to my sister, who is cultivating a very disturbing but possibly profitable interest in Uniporn© (copyright pending).


Yeah, so Spanx.  They were not entirely what I was expecting.  First of all, they are not as comfortable as everyone raves.  No, they do not bind like a girdle, but they do fit like pantyhose, in that the crotch is somewhere around my knees, and even after a great deal of pulling and twisting and other gymnastic quality motions they still only ended up approximately in the general area of my nether regions.


Okay, fine, whatever.  I'll add an extra 15 minutes to my getting ready for work time (time that I can subtract from my exercise routine) so I could live with that.  Especially because once I actually pulled them up, I did notice that my stomach appeared flatter, and my pants fit better, so okay.  I was willing to put up with them to the point that I wore them around the house for a minute, doing various chores.


And then I sat down.  And they rolled down past my stomach to my hips.  Defeating their purpose completely.  So what the hell is the point of buying a pair of undergarments to help flatten your stomach when all they do is bunch up at your waist, making you look bulkier than before?


I still may give them a try; we shall see.  I definitely will not attempt them with a skirt because I don't think it screams "we hired the right girl for the job!" when that girl is adjusting herself more often than a baseball pitcher.


Spanx, prior to experiment:

Spanx, post experiment, crumbled into a ball of rage:

How I'm Feeling Today (embracing my inner geek with a little bit of Dr. Who):

If You A Fly Gal Get Your Nails Done

So, after weeks and months of not being able to afford this luxury, I finally got my nails did today!

Before:

 

After:

And although they are an obvious improvement (anything short of missing fingers would have been an improvement), I am not happy with the results. I mean, wtf?  Did the manicurist see me sitting across the table from her and think, "She is short, stubby and square! I will give her nails to match!" ("Cô ấy là ngắn, mập và hình vuông!Tôi sẽ cho móng tay của cô để phù hợp với!") Because that is NOT what I was looking for in the least.


But what I find more frustrating is my own reaction, or, lack of, more accurately, to the situation.  At no time did I speak up and say "I'd like more of an oval shape, please."  I sat there while she filed thinking that at any time she was going to round off the tips, keeping hope even up to the point where I was washing my hands and waiting for the polish.


And that pisses me off.  Why the fuck didn't I, the consumer, request what I wanted?  What I was paying for.  I could have done it very nicely, as in the example before, but no.  ANY kind of confrontation, uncomfortable situation, chance of argument, is to be avoided at any cost.  That is one part of my personality that I am totally conflicted about because on the one hand, I like being nice.  I don't want to be the reason that anyone feels bad, or has a bad day, because I know how I feel when the situations are reversed, and I'm doing my best to deliver awesome customer service, and am met with rudeness for the point of being rude.  It seriously ruins my life, and I never let that shit go.  Ever.


On the other hand, I avoid confrontation to the point that it is actually detrimental, and I will avoid actually handling situations, or taking care of necessary business in order to avoid a possible conflict, and this often times makes the situation THAT much worse and it blow it up into THAT MUCH MORE of a situation than it ever had to be had I just had the balls to speak up.


Or I get stuck paying $25 for nails that I stare at in hatred knowing that I'm going to be stuck with them for at least three weeks, and wonder how odd it would be to wear gloves in summer.


There has to be a happy medium somewhere, and there is.  I don't have to be the Rottenator, who takes an active pleasure in being confrontational and argumentative because he enjoys the conflict and the reaction he gets, and honestly doesn't give a fuck what people who don't know him think about him.  However, I also don't have to be the pushover who will actually apologize to some rude old bitch who runs me over with their shopping cart and acts like it's my fault that I exist on this planet and how dare I happen to be in line in front of her.


So, that's my resolve.  I'm 40 fucking years old, I don't have to go around apologizing to everyone for shit that isn't my fault.  And neither do I have to be the fucking old heifer that I secretly want to trip so she'll fall over her shopping cart and break an arthritic hip while I laugh inwardly and prance off on my calcium enriched bones.


I shall find the perfect mix of passive aggressiveness.


How I'm Feeling Today:

Quelle est cette chose appelée shopping?

So, yeah, I bought clothes yesterday!  Grown up professional clothes and shit.  Did I purchase any of the items above?  Of course not, don't be silly.  In fact, the lip purse itself was probably more than my entire allotted clothes buying budget.

 

Nevertheless, $75 later (including thrifted items from the Mother, Grandmother & the good folks at Goodwill with a side trip to Payless and the Wu-mart), check it, I have a brand new wardrobe that will last me at least two weeks of mixing and matching without too many repeats.

 

Do not mock the Goodwill, Payless, or the Wu-mart, thank you very much.  An extra bonus of being significantly smaller than I have been previously in life is that it opens up an WHOLE NEW WORLD (cue Ariel the Little Mermaid here) of clothing opportunities that I never previously knew existed.

 

I've always hated shopping...as one does when faced with the limited selection of muumuus and elastic waisted jorts that are available to encompass one's expanded girth. EXPENSIVE muumuus and jorts, I might add.  Talk about sticking it to the "healthy" girls: not only will we mock you by making impossibly hideous clothing that you will be forced to wear, we'll also make you pay out the ass for anything that doesn't make you look like Jabba.

However, being in the comfortable 12-16 size range, I can now find a pretty decent selection of slacks, skirts, and yes, even buttoned down shirts (gasp!) for cheap.  Cheap, cheap cheap, without looking it.

Example: I bought a pair of St. John gray dress slacks WITH the tag still on them for $1.75 at Goodwill.  Beat that, bitches.

They are currently between seasons at apparel stores, apparently (see what I did...nevermind), at least they are at Wal-mart, so a lot of their long sleeved but still lightweight shirts and sweaters are significantly reduced.  Seriously, 50-75% off.  I will be working in an air-conditioned environment, so needless to say, I benefited greatly from this; on average, my shirts cost between $5-$7 a piece.

This just made me realize that if Walmart was doing this then probably other stores, like Target or even (gasp!) Macy's or Nordstrom or Neiman-Marcus...dammit!  

Well, I'm not there financially (YET!) but that just gave me even MORE incentive to keep working on this body thing.  Because one day, oh, yes, I will have the $ to shop at high-end department stores.  And I will want to have the figure to continue to enjoy the wide selection of choices that will be available to me.

And I will still shop between seasons, because nothing excites me more than a bargain.  Only now, instead of putting my financial abilities to work at the grocery store...I shall apply them to refilling my wardrobe.

I'm already excited about shopping for upcoming birthdays and holidays.  I need to let my sister know to get her lists in order...though I'm sure her chirren already have gifts in mind.

 

How I'm feeling today:

This Body Knows the Trouble I've Seen

I've been overweight all of my life.  That may be an understatement, because truth be known, I've been fat all of my life.

I started life as a chubby baby and reached an all-time high of 280 lbs; this is me at my sister's wedding June 2000:

(Note: I am not the one in the wedding dress, the tux, or the gray haired lady on the left)

This is me about a year ago, at my current-ish weight of @ 160 lbs:

Despite that fact that my face is considerably older and more wrinkled, I am much happier with photo # 2, natch.

In Sep 2001, I had gastric bypass surgery.  Yes, while the world was watching the horrific events of Sep 11, I was doped up on Lortab on my couch getting pissed that the Food Network was off the air.  

Side note: I'm kinda happy I experienced all of that in a drug-induced daze the first time around, or I don't think I would have been able to process that emotion.  I still have a difficult time with it.

This is not to say that the gastric bypass was a phenomenal success, but that was of my own doing, or "not" doing as was the case.  See, my body has a miraculous ability to heal very quickly from any perceived trauma, which this surgery definitely was.  However, in this case, that ability worked against me in that I didn't experience a lot of the side effects of the surgery that would have been conducive to losing weight.  Which totally sucked at the time.

So, I gained all of the weight back through improper eating habits, and increased drinking habits.  This sucked.

In Jan 2010, I became deathly ill.  And when I say deathly, I mean, literally.  I had a bleeding ulcer that went unnoticed and untreated by me, and it landed me in the ICU for about two weeks.

This sucked as well.  However, it was at this point that my body and its miraculous healing abilities was appreciated by me, whereas before, it had not been.  My body not only saw me through that recovery, it actually made me healthier than I've ever been before.  And for that, I am grateful.

I lost the weight again, and am at a point now, where my weight is stabilized at @ 160, which may sound horrible to some of you but for a former fattie, it's incredible.  Especially being that I can wear "normal" sized clothes instead of shopping at specialty stores, and I can eat whatever I want.  You see, the original surgery I had almost 12 years ago did leave me with a permanently smaller stomach, and even though I managed to stretch it out over the ensuing years, ever since my illness, it has shrunken again, and now I can't physically eat as much as I used to, even though I try.  Oh yes, I fight it, and I do try.  Unfortunately.

This time around, at the age of 40, losing weight by any means is not my top priority any more.  Another thing that my illness has done for me is made me appreciate how much better it is to FEEL good as opposed to LOOK good.  I want to be healthy.  I want to wake up in the morning, not feeling sluggish and exhausted and hung over and dehydrated, but I want to feel a strength and a grace in my body that only comes with good nutrition and exercise.

So, here I am.  The good thing about doing this at 40 is that I have lost some of that narcissistic perfection that girls look for in their 20s.  My body will never be perfect. I will always have sagging skin, stretch marks, wrinkles, scars, gray hair, and a paunch.

But that doesn't mean that I can't be healthy, and that doesn't mean that I can't strive to look the best I can, and decrease these perceived imperfections as much as I can.  I can color my hair, and I can tone my body, and even lose some of this paunch.  Which is what my main focus is going to be.

As I written before, my life is in a holding pattern at the moment.  I am waiting to hear if I have a new job.  This has been an ongoing, stressful, frustrating, two month period of my life where I have eaten and smoked myself into oblivion.  Any day now, I am waiting for this to change.  I'm in the final stretch, and this is the most difficult part.

The reason I mention this is because with this new job comes new fundage, which, if put to the proper use, will change my life dramatically for the better.  Right now, I'm not in a financial position to eat the healthiest foods, or work out at the gym, or go to the doctor to get a physical, or spend one extra cent on anything that is not an immediate necessity, you know, like electricity, water, gas, internet (god damn right I said it: internet!)

The positive aspect of this is that unlike before, where the prospect of more $ meant "who hoo, let's go out and tie one on, celebrate, homie!", it now means "OMG, I can buy organic, whole grain, free range shit and join the Y!"

That part of getting old I don't mind.

For some reason, I keep trying to find a focus, a certain point of my blog, to tie it up into one neat, easily classified category.  Will it be a foodie blog, a lifestyle blog, a recovery blog, a humor blog?  

I guess in the end, it will be about all of those things, because basically, it is my online, public diary.  And I even titled the damn thing "All About Me" so fuck it, that's what it's going to be.

Step Away From the Keyboard, Kathleen

So, I was watching television, when a preview for the following movie came on:

And I'm not embarrassed to say that I bawled like a baby.  But not just because of the trailer, and the fact that this heroine is Gaelic (Irish/Scottish), but also because the following song was played in the trailer that I saw:

And I'm not PMS-ing so...let's just lay the blame on Pixar, because they are the master manipulators when it comes to exploiting emotions...hello, remember Toy Story 2?

I'd much rather believe that than come to the conclusion that I'm about to fall into a deep pool of legitimate depression.