I’m still having a hard time this week staying on the straight and narrow post vacation. I worked out four times, and it was hit and miss with the food. The weekend is still a bit of a problem for me.
Also, I’ve been struggling a little bit with the role of the blog. It certainly helps me – no question about it, but what is the message I’m communicating here? Someone very close to me said something about my blog the other day that was so off the mark I found it quite offensive. He said, “Yeah, the blog. I’ve read it. It’s just a way to slam skinny people in a light hearted way”
Huh? That is not at all the point. Not even remotely close or even almost resembling the point. At all. Um, dude? This blog is about ME. Interesting that the people closest to me who should be my rock of support don’t get it. Strangers from other countries? You all seem to get it just fine.
I’m not just ‘slamming’ skinny people here, in fact I think I make fun of myself more than anyone else anyway. I throw some jokes in here and there because it’s my writing style and I’m hoping you will take my wife, pleeease. Ba da dom.
I do not have some bone to pick with skinny people – everyone I know is skinny. Seriously – 100% of all of my friends are thin people. The biggest problem any of them have is trying to lose the last five or ten pounds of hanging around baby weight. I’d be pretty lonely if I had some grudge against skinny people. I’ve had the same friends for twenty years and body shape is not a qualifier. They don’t give a shit that I’m fat. I need them, they get me. Besides, there are plenty of other reasons to make fun of them and I do, frequently. Hey, it's just all part of my charm!
This is actually fairly important to me, what I’m doing here. It’s my own on-line journal and I keep myself honest all week with thoughts of having to update the world on Monday. While it may look stupid, this is my way of trying to accomplish something that has been pretty hard for me for a lot of years. I put it out there like this to get the support I need. And, it’s working. While I have some good weeks and some bad weeks, it’s working. Casey, the head Nagger-in-Chief over at Hasay was kind enough to ask me to guest post this week's Hasay update located here. Go check it out! I’m very flattered she asked me because it means that someone somewhere is reading this and doesn’t think I’m just a bittered old fat girl who is a stupid joke. I’m a snarky, overly sarcastic fat girl who writes her own stupid jokes. There is a difference people!
Usually when someone I love really disappoints me I eat crap. I hereby vow not to fall into that again. This week will be a better week! I’m going to try a few new things – new exercises, new foods, some new drugs and possibly an eating disorder. Ha! See? I kid.
(Disclaimer - that joke was not directed at any skinny people. I love you in all your lu-lu lemon glory)
I just weighed myself and I’ve lost 3.5 pounds this week. Really?? Wow - this has got to be some kind of miracle. I'm going to double check my bowl of cornflakes now because the face of Jesus must be floating in there.
This means I lost the 2.5 pounds I gained last week, plus another pound on top of that! Do you know what this means?? I'm officially over the first landmark, the FIRST TEN POUNDS! Yay me!! I'm mentally jumping up and down high-fiving myself right now.
So far I have lost 10.5 pounds. I have 49.5 to go.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Things I'll do for Fish
I am home for a rest after spending a mostly relaxing weekend in British Columbia, the land where everyone refers to their items by brand name, not description. As in, “The airline lost my Peg Perego” (an infant car seat) or “I just love walking in my Saucony’s” (shoes). I spent a lot of time nodding and smiling as to not appear to be the prairie hick luddite who owns a playpen, not a ‘Baby Bjorn’. I’m tired. Not only for the mental exhaustion that comes with trying to pretend I have any clue what people are talking, but also because I’m still recovering from the trip to the Vancouver Aquarium with two three year-old girls and a four month old baby in the middle of a Saturday.
Armed with a Primo Viaggio (stroller), the girls, snacks to satisfy every anticipated whim of a toddler, a baby, and at least two cell phones in case we needed to call for back-up, off we went to see the whales, dolphins, various kinds of fish and maybe an otter or two.
After we arrived and had to circle the parking lot for 15 minutes before finding a spot, a slow, dawning realization came to my friend and I that this might be challenging. We kept quiet though, out of respect for the other who may have decided to comfortably embrace the warm bosom of delusion.
It appeared there were quite a few people that picked the same day to take in the aquarium. Undeterred, we set about the process of un-buckling the girls, getting the baby settled in his stroller, and hauling out the bags, toys, snacks, tequila and valium before we forged ahead into the great unknown.
We arrived at the doors to the aquarium, steeled our nerve and prepared for battle. At some point during the walk from the parking lot the girls had managed to apply war paint which went perfectly with the low hum of jungle drums that were suddenly playing in my head. I even heard a monkey squawk. Wait a minute…aren’t we at an aquarium? There were people EVERYWHERE.
We were to meet two friends and their children at the entrance (safety in numbers), but alas, only one made it. We were only an hour into our voyage when traffic took out our first solider. We bought a stuffed beluga at the gift shop and sent it to her family with notes of kind regard.
The girls were not at all shaken by news of our first casualty or the masses of resistance forces that were stationed at every corner. In fact, along with the war paint the kids had managed to organize an impressive zone-defence that would have made any NFL coach proud. After yelling a squeaky ‘BREAK!’ they each took off in opposite directions with their little heads bobbing between a sea of random legs.
Man, those kids are fast. It also didn’t help that they are also super short because it was as equally hard to see them when they are standing right beside you as it is when they are bolting towards the nearest display of sea horses.
There was some pretty cool stuff to see at the aquarium, but we only got to see it when the girls took a break from plotting our demise.
"Dude, what are you doing just standing there? It's totally your turn to take off running in the opposite direction."
Cute though, right? The cute is all part of their plan, you see. Just when you’re all ‘awwwe’ they hit you with a tantrum or an owie or a sharp and pointy toy upside the head.
But, all that stuff is okay because the way they go about it is somehow charming in its own right. One flash of that mischievous grin and even though I know I’ll pay for it with some kind of natural disaster caused by the cyclone that is the collective 60 pounds of these children, I let it happen anyway because whatever the fallout, it’s probably going to be worth it.
Although it has taken me a few days to recover and I’m not sure we won the battle, the weekend was a blast. I wish I could freeze those girls in time and visit them at this age whenever I want because right now they are about perfect. I washed off the war paint though.
p.s. If you're wondering why my kid is practically bald, read this.
p.p.s. - I should also point out that only the bald kid is mine. The other one belongs to my friend who graciously gave me permission to exploit her daughter on the internet.
Armed with a Primo Viaggio (stroller), the girls, snacks to satisfy every anticipated whim of a toddler, a baby, and at least two cell phones in case we needed to call for back-up, off we went to see the whales, dolphins, various kinds of fish and maybe an otter or two.
After we arrived and had to circle the parking lot for 15 minutes before finding a spot, a slow, dawning realization came to my friend and I that this might be challenging. We kept quiet though, out of respect for the other who may have decided to comfortably embrace the warm bosom of delusion.
It appeared there were quite a few people that picked the same day to take in the aquarium. Undeterred, we set about the process of un-buckling the girls, getting the baby settled in his stroller, and hauling out the bags, toys, snacks, tequila and valium before we forged ahead into the great unknown.
We arrived at the doors to the aquarium, steeled our nerve and prepared for battle. At some point during the walk from the parking lot the girls had managed to apply war paint which went perfectly with the low hum of jungle drums that were suddenly playing in my head. I even heard a monkey squawk. Wait a minute…aren’t we at an aquarium? There were people EVERYWHERE.
We were to meet two friends and their children at the entrance (safety in numbers), but alas, only one made it. We were only an hour into our voyage when traffic took out our first solider. We bought a stuffed beluga at the gift shop and sent it to her family with notes of kind regard.
The girls were not at all shaken by news of our first casualty or the masses of resistance forces that were stationed at every corner. In fact, along with the war paint the kids had managed to organize an impressive zone-defence that would have made any NFL coach proud. After yelling a squeaky ‘BREAK!’ they each took off in opposite directions with their little heads bobbing between a sea of random legs.
Man, those kids are fast. It also didn’t help that they are also super short because it was as equally hard to see them when they are standing right beside you as it is when they are bolting towards the nearest display of sea horses.
There was some pretty cool stuff to see at the aquarium, but we only got to see it when the girls took a break from plotting our demise.
"Dude, what are you doing just standing there? It's totally your turn to take off running in the opposite direction."
Cute though, right? The cute is all part of their plan, you see. Just when you’re all ‘awwwe’ they hit you with a tantrum or an owie or a sharp and pointy toy upside the head.
But, all that stuff is okay because the way they go about it is somehow charming in its own right. One flash of that mischievous grin and even though I know I’ll pay for it with some kind of natural disaster caused by the cyclone that is the collective 60 pounds of these children, I let it happen anyway because whatever the fallout, it’s probably going to be worth it.
Although it has taken me a few days to recover and I’m not sure we won the battle, the weekend was a blast. I wish I could freeze those girls in time and visit them at this age whenever I want because right now they are about perfect. I washed off the war paint though.
p.s. If you're wondering why my kid is practically bald, read this.
p.p.s. - I should also point out that only the bald kid is mine. The other one belongs to my friend who graciously gave me permission to exploit her daughter on the internet.
Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 6
Hello all! I know its Tuesday and I really should be all random, but I didn’t post fat chick yesterday and I need to catch up. I don’t have very many self-imposed blog rules, but posting weekly on the fat-stats is one of them. Actually, it’s the only one.
It was a mixed week; I worked out Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I think Wednesday should count as two days of exercise because it was the most excruciating 45 mins of my life. Some callous individual created this merciless exercise class called “Xtreme Kettlebell Workout”. I’m not sure what happened to the first ‘e’ that should be out front of ‘xtreme’, but I’m guessing it’s in the bathroom vomiting because that’s where I almost ended up three quarters of the way into that class. It was unpleasant.
On Friday I took off to BC for the weekend to visit some friends. I had planned to maintain a strong resolve and adhere to my strict caloric intake during the entire weekend. Uh huh. I didn’t even get out of the Regina airport before that plan was abandoned. Our flight was delayed by two hours and I decided to celebrate with a cheeseburger. I had to contend with a cranky toddler for two hours in the worlds lamest airport – food was my only weapon! Huh? What’s that? Yes, I needed to eat it too. Shut up.
The rest of the weekend was a complete blow out. Don’t get me wrong, most meals I ate were healthy enough, but when you eat your weight in them I don’t think it counts anymore. I also cheated. A lot. Full disclosure perfect strangers – please feel free to judge and berate me:
- I drank beer. Lots of it. At least six and probably more like eight bottles.
- I drank wine. Lots of it. At least four and probably more like six glasses.
- Two bowls of ice cream
- Half a brownie, but it was a HUGE brownie, so half was really more like one full brownie.
- Cinnamon scones. They were yummy, especially after I slathered butter all over them.
- Vending machine food at the airport. Enough said.
I’m pretty sure there were more indiscretions, but those are the highlights. Consequently, I weighed in this morning and I’m up 2.5 lbs.
But, I’m going to use this as a personal test for me. In the past, right around the beginning of the second month I fall off the wagon due to something – a holiday, crappy life circumstance, boredom, whatever, and then I stay off. For about a year. All of my progress is wiped away and then some. I am not going to do that this time – I have been eating very well today and I’m going to the gym after work even though I don’t at all feel like it. What I really want to do is go home and see the other two kids who did not have the benefit of a weekend trip. My boy told me today that he missed me. Just like that – I was getting ready for work and he popped his head in the bathroom and said, “I missed you mom” and then took off like a bat out of hell because he (correctly) predicted the hugging and kissing that was about to be bestowed upon him. My boy is a fellow of few words, and when he does have words they’re usually aggressive and/or smart-assy. That kid must have missed me BAD to spit that out.
But, as I was saying I am not going home to my son who missed me, I’m going to the gym. I have to. I can’t give in to the reasons I can’t go, even if those reasons are good ones. It’s too slippery a slope, and if I indulge my desire to be elsewhere on a day that is scheduled to exercise it usually marks the beginning of the end. I’m going to the fucking gym. BLAH.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Head West! and drink some good wine when you get there
Alright everyone – I’m off to the land of tofu, February flowers and delusions of grandeur. I’ve made the decision not to take my laptop, so you won’t hear from me until Tuesday or so. Going cold turkey from this thing is going to be pretty hard, and I might have to visit the methadone clinic on Hastings St. if the cold sweats and shaking gets too out of hand. It’s a good thing Vancouver is laden with addicts and nutters. Maybe it is my kind of town after all….
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Facebook exists to remind you that you suck
I was on facebook chat last night with a woman I went to high school with, but who I haven’t actually seen since high school. She moved to BC (and yes, she does indeed suffer from the BC Effect as evidenced by her conviction of how I should move there), found herself a husband and settled down and had some kids. Prior to that she did a LOT. We’ve had a few conversations since the advent of ol’ facebook but the first one was the most memorable. It went like this:
HS Friend: So what have you been up to since high school?
Me: Umm, well… I stayed in town and had a baby pretty much right out of high school, married my high school sweetheart, got a job, bought a house a few blocks from where we grew up and then had a couple of more kids. That is pretty much it. You?
HS Friend: That sounds great!! (BC Effect kicking in, because she sounded like she actually meant that) Well, after high school I completed my social work degree, and then went overseas to work in London while I completed my Masters degree. I did quite a bit of volunteer work with orphans in third-world countries before I published my first book. Then I was invited twice to speak in front of the United Nations - once with the first book, then again with the second. Shortly after that I moved to BC, met the man of my dreams, had two wonderful children and now I am a professor at the University.
Me: Oh. That’s nice. You'll need to excuse me for a moment while I beat myself in the head with our yearbook.
Are you kidding me with that? I had to fight the urge to tell her that I invented post-its.
It actually hadn’t occurred to me to be dissatisfied with my life until I talked to her, and then all of a sudden I am a huge loser with no soul. Starving orphans are not exactly top of mind, unless of course I’m watching Entertainment Tonight and Brangelina is transporting their tribe somewhere exotic, and then I’m really only looking at his ass anyway (and let’s be honest, Angelina’s ass too). I didn't get a masters degree either. I got myself a completely useless certificate like a normal person.
I have never taught anyone anything except for the time my little cousin needed help learning how to sneak into the bar underage. I sure as hell haven’t been published, unless you count this blog that currently holds a grand readership of twelve. As for appearing before the UN? I’m pretty sure the leaders of the world aren’t that interested in hearing my fart jokes.
Don’t get me wrong, I really like this woman and I am happy she has managed to accomplish so much in these last seventeen years, but....wow. The least she could have done was get fat.
HS Friend: So what have you been up to since high school?
Me: Umm, well… I stayed in town and had a baby pretty much right out of high school, married my high school sweetheart, got a job, bought a house a few blocks from where we grew up and then had a couple of more kids. That is pretty much it. You?
HS Friend: That sounds great!! (BC Effect kicking in, because she sounded like she actually meant that) Well, after high school I completed my social work degree, and then went overseas to work in London while I completed my Masters degree. I did quite a bit of volunteer work with orphans in third-world countries before I published my first book. Then I was invited twice to speak in front of the United Nations - once with the first book, then again with the second. Shortly after that I moved to BC, met the man of my dreams, had two wonderful children and now I am a professor at the University.
Me: Oh. That’s nice. You'll need to excuse me for a moment while I beat myself in the head with our yearbook.
Are you kidding me with that? I had to fight the urge to tell her that I invented post-its.
It actually hadn’t occurred to me to be dissatisfied with my life until I talked to her, and then all of a sudden I am a huge loser with no soul. Starving orphans are not exactly top of mind, unless of course I’m watching Entertainment Tonight and Brangelina is transporting their tribe somewhere exotic, and then I’m really only looking at his ass anyway (and let’s be honest, Angelina’s ass too). I didn't get a masters degree either. I got myself a completely useless certificate like a normal person.
I have never taught anyone anything except for the time my little cousin needed help learning how to sneak into the bar underage. I sure as hell haven’t been published, unless you count this blog that currently holds a grand readership of twelve. As for appearing before the UN? I’m pretty sure the leaders of the world aren’t that interested in hearing my fart jokes.
Don’t get me wrong, I really like this woman and I am happy she has managed to accomplish so much in these last seventeen years, but....wow. The least she could have done was get fat.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Random Tuesday Thoughts
I don’t really do football, but I make a point to watch the Grey Cup and the Super Bowl even though I'm really only watching for the musical acts and commercials. The economy sucks so the commercials were kind of ‘meh’ this year and thanks to Janet Jackson and her boob the Americans are too scared to put anyone on stage that isn't some really old guy now. Seriously, Bruce Springsteen? In the last few years since boobgate they've had Paul McCartney, Tom Petty...even Prince for crying out loud. They really can't think of anyone slightly more relevant? I know those guys are 'legends' and all that but enough already. It was just a boob people! Lighten up.
I’m excited about my trip to BC this weekend! Politika has a daughter the same age as mine (they are three) and all I want to do is dress them in matching clothes for some reason. That kind of kind of thing is usually a little too ‘cute’ for me, but I’m dying to do it anyway. Weird, huh?
I want to drive to Ontario and punch that groundhog in the face for telling me I have to live through winter for another six weeks. Every year I’m hopeful, and interestingly enough in 35 years of living on the prairies winter has never once ended by the middle of February. Curse that stupid rodent for taunting me with hope every year.
I died my hair red and that seems to have helped with the old lady factor. And I figured out how to style it without looking like a television sitcom mom, so it’s starting to grow on me. A little. I still regret cutting it though.
I’ve been thinking about my Winnipeg friends a lot lately – Erin, Tobi, Rickie…..I would like them to come and visit me. Well, Erin is in Vegas now, so I think I’ll go visit her. As for the other two…come on over ladies! Well, maybe it would be better to do it in the spring. We can spend two days on the deck drinking and then jump on the trampoline like idiots when the kids are asleep. Hey, don’t knock it; it’s a pretty decent workout.
How many people out there have heard this before -
"I don't have close friendships with women. They don't really like me because I'm too pretty. It's a lot easier to hang out and work with men"
Hey, you know what? It's not because you're too pretty. It's because you're kind of a fucking bitch. The men think you're a fucking bitch too, but they continue to suffer through your inane nonsense in hopes that some day you will have sex with them.
Now it's time to go see Keely who will be able to hook you up with more Tuesday randomness. Speaking of Keely (who by the way manages to be loads pretty and not at all a fucking bitch), her potty mouth is finally being recognized for all its vulgar glory. Today is the last day to cast a vote for her in the mom dot 'best use of a cuss word' award. I love that Americans say 'cuss'. It's so cute.
Okay - go vote now!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 5
I rocked it out this week folks! I met all of my exercise goals by working out Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday, and I was very good with the food. The weekend saw a few more indulgences than I allowed myself during the week, but it wasn’t that bad at all. In fact, I kind of felt like I was eating like a normal person. I stopped eating when I was full, I allowed the odd treat without overdoing it and I was a label reading fool.
My clothes are looser (especially the pants) and my fitness level seems to be improving. So what did I do to celebrate my successes? I went off and butchered my hair.
I’ve had long hair pretty much my entire adult life and I decided since I was in change-making mode I would chop it all off. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while, but on Saturday I finally got the nerve and now lucky me! I look like Carol Brady. This young and hip hairstylist at the youngest and hippest salon in town decided that I needed to look like a forty-five year old soccer mom. It’s awful.
God forbid my self-esteem starts to improve. I cannot believe I did this to myself! Now every time I look in the mirror I want a brownie. What the hell is my problem? I better run out and pierce something on my face so people don’t go thinking I’m an old lady with kids and a mini-van. Hmmm, wait a minute…..
I weighed myself at Trainer Lady's place on Thursday night, and according to that stupid scale I GAINED a pound! I was not best pleased, but as I do every week I weighed myself Monday morning (completely naked after taking off all my jewelry and voiding my bladder. I even tried to poop - couldn't) and according to my crappy weight watchers scale I lost 2.4 pounds this week. I like that better, so I'm going with it (although I'm sure at least a pound of that was hair).
As of this morning I am down a total of 7.4 pounds. I have 52.6 to go.
My clothes are looser (especially the pants) and my fitness level seems to be improving. So what did I do to celebrate my successes? I went off and butchered my hair.
I’ve had long hair pretty much my entire adult life and I decided since I was in change-making mode I would chop it all off. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while, but on Saturday I finally got the nerve and now lucky me! I look like Carol Brady. This young and hip hairstylist at the youngest and hippest salon in town decided that I needed to look like a forty-five year old soccer mom. It’s awful.
God forbid my self-esteem starts to improve. I cannot believe I did this to myself! Now every time I look in the mirror I want a brownie. What the hell is my problem? I better run out and pierce something on my face so people don’t go thinking I’m an old lady with kids and a mini-van. Hmmm, wait a minute…..
I weighed myself at Trainer Lady's place on Thursday night, and according to that stupid scale I GAINED a pound! I was not best pleased, but as I do every week I weighed myself Monday morning (completely naked after taking off all my jewelry and voiding my bladder. I even tried to poop - couldn't) and according to my crappy weight watchers scale I lost 2.4 pounds this week. I like that better, so I'm going with it (although I'm sure at least a pound of that was hair).
As of this morning I am down a total of 7.4 pounds. I have 52.6 to go.
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