Skinny Scrapbooking

Honey, I’m ho-ome.  Did you miss me?  First, let me start by saying that I appreciate your patience and your loyalty.  Second, I know I said I was going to post a picture of myself each week of my weight loss but I’m not going to now.  You can’t really tell I’ve lost weight, actually you can’t tell at all.  So you will have to wait until there is a noticeable difference.  It could be a while.  I will keep you updated on my progress though.  Lucky you.

The last 2 weeks have been a bit difficult.  It didn’t go by without a struggle.  As you know, I went to a scrapbooking retreat for 3 days.  Let me tell you, that really put me to the test.  Let me also tell you that there was enough food to choke a horse.  And alcohol.  And….food.

There was this.  It was pretty much on this table the entire time:

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I took 2 cookies in a three day span.  And if you know me, that is really, really good.  But damn, I wanted that thing on the right so bad.  With it’s yummy cream cheese filling and Lord knows what else.

So, instead I snacked on this:

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Ok, so I ate a LOT of hummus, but it was definitely the better choice over potato chips and brownies.  I also ate a lot of veggies.  I have never been so “regular” in my life.

Friday night was pizza night, with salad.  I had a crapload of salad and a piece of pizza.  Ok, 2 pieces of pizza.  I know.  Not good.  But I am a 3-4 slice girl so in reality that is pretty good for me.  I just love to eat so much.  Generally, I eat more than DH.  That is why his stomach is a flat as a washboard and mine, well, isn’t.

Then there was the free breakfast buffet at the hotel.  I’m not talking danish and bagels either.  There was the whole kit and caboodle.  Three of my favorite breakfast foods were present: sausage, bacon and home fries.  There was even an omelet station.  I took not one single item from the “Food with Actual Taste” section. This is what I had both days with a side of fruit:

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As for alcohol?  Not one drop of wine.  But lots of drops of this:

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I had a free ticket to drink up because it said “Light” on the label, so I  had 2 glasses.  Ok,  I lie.  It was more like 4 glasses.  Each night.  4 BIG glasses.  As well as calories, it also must be light on the alcohol because after 4 glasses I didn’t even catch so much as a buzz so it was a complete waste.  I should have stuck to water.

Saturday morning I spent 45 minutes in the hotel gym.  All the while missing some really great scrapbooking demonstrations that the hostess was giving.  But I worked out.  Here I am on the incumbent bike.  I also did the treadmill and the elliptical.  I burned off 2 glasses of margaritas.  I know.  It’s a load of crap.  But I guess it’s better than nothing.

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So to recap.  I ate more than I wanted but less than I would have.  The same thing goes for alcohol. I worked out once.  Should have been twice.  But that’s ok.  I was there to scrapbook and be with friends.  As my girlfriends not so nicely put it.

When I returned home, I worked out every day (ok, I skipped Friday — big mistake), didn’t drink (oops, except Monday night — thank God for Bethany Frankel), ate enough vegetables to keep the farming industry in business for another 10 years and kept all bad, fattening and basically any food with flavor away from my mouth.  I am reading labels like a novel and giving the kid a hard time about all the crap that goes into HER mouth.  Let’s face it, she hasn’t taken after her dad in the eating department.

Oh, and I drank so much water, I felt like a fish.  Do fish actually drink water?

Oh, and I’ve lost 3.8 pounds.  I think that’s pretty good if I do say so myself.  I deserve a glass of wine.  Oh, oops.  I can’t.  Not for another 4 weeks.  It’s going to be a long month.

I Think It’s Time

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In case you are wondering, that is my chin.  Not my mother’s chin although I can see where you would make that mistake (sorry, mom).   Not Mount St. Helens.  Or a lumpy cushion.  My chin.

When did this happen?  It use to look like this:

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and like this:

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Now that I have given up wine during Lent (except on Sundays) even though technically I didn’t need to because I no longer practice the Catholic religion but do practice Lent so I will do it for Jesus, I have decided that now is as good as any to get my fat ass up and moving.  In addition to the fact that I have completely lost my neck, I want you to see that I have also lost my sweet little booty and flat stomach but gained some nice arm and back fat. I actually used to have really nice legs.  They too, are gone.  This is me at 154.6 pounds:

Day 1 - Front View
Day 1 – Front View
Day 1 - Side View
Day 1 – Side View

I know.  Don’t be jealous.  Jealousy is not very becoming.

A fellow momblogger, http://not-your-average-mom.com (if you haven’t read her blog, please do. She’s really funny) has inspired me.  She has been posting pictures of herself during her weight loss journey.  Don’t expect as good results from me so quickly because she works out A LOT.

So, I decided that in order for me to finally get moving and do something about this problem, I am going to commit to my readers.  Because if I don’t follow through I will embarrass myself and this is a small town.  I don’t want you bitches talking smack about me.  I say that in jest.  Love to you all.

I know I’m really putting myself out there.  I am being real and I am being honest.  I am sharing the bad and the ugly.  But I have zero drive and even less will power and I’m afraid if I don’t do something to make myself accountable, I will continue to be on the downward slope.  And I don’t ski.

So far today I have walked 3 miles in the freezing 25 degree weather, had a salad for lunch and drank more water than usual.  I’m off to a good start.  But it’s only day 1 and I still have to meet the girls tonight for my weekly “Monday Night with the Girls” ritual.  Wish me luck.

If you don’t mind, I will post a new pic each week to see if I’m changing for the better.  If you don’t want to look, please don’t.  I know it’s a lot to ask and I appreciate your support.  And who wants to look at me week after week?  I don’t.  That’s why I’m doing this.  Goodbye double chin.  You are no longer welcome.

A Sight for Sore Eyes

3 weeks ago I went for my annual eye appointment.  l did the usual testing with one thing different. Instead of the “eye drop that makes you blurry” test they took a picture instead.  What they found looked something like this:

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Except my spot was a lot bigger.

Me: What is that?

Doctor:  I don’t know.  This isn’t my specialty. It can be anything from an infection to a melanoma. If it’s a melanoma that could be bad. You need to go see an eye doctor.

Ok, hold on a minute.  I thought he was an eye doctor. Apparently in my 45 years of living, I never realized the difference between an optometrist and an ophthalmologist.

So, for another 3 weeks I had visions of some bad shit running through my noggin.  I pictured my tumor getting bigger and bigger by the day.  I even started to “feel” it.  I thought of them having to remove my eyeball. Well, at least my little nephew would now have a real pirate to play with.

So, I go to the eye doctor and go through the routine testing.  Again.  After 2 hours, I find out what the prognosis is.  Are you ready?  Drum roll please…

A birthmark.  Yup.  It’s a freaking birthmark.  In other words, a freckle.  Well, good.  That is good, right?  Yes.  But it doesn’t make for very interesting story telling.  I mean, I’m glad I’m not dying or anything.  But it could have been something a little more fun.  Like possibly a virus or something.  Something.  But a freckle?

So, I do leave the appointment feeling relieved I’m going to live.  The fact that I’m not dying is a good reason for a celebration so I stop off for some wine.  I notice that people are looking at me.  No, I mean everybody.  Looking at me.  I don’t get looked at that often anymore so I was curious to see what was the attraction.  Did I leave some lunch on my face?  So I look in the mirror and see this:

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I look like Night of the Living Dead. Gross.  I forgot those drops made your pupils as big as the black hole.  The lady at the doctor’s office told me to wear sunglasses even though it was dark out.  Now I know why.

Scrub a Dub Dub

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Yes, I use a washcloth.  In fact, I’m a washcloth scrubber.  (Be careful where you scrub though, apparently you can scrub natural bacteria right off your vajayjay and cause an infection.  I read that somewhere.  I know it’s tempting but refrain.)  Anyway, doesn’t everyone scrub with a washcloth?   Apparently…not.

I recently had a conversation with some friends about washing with a washcloth (yes, I know…very compelling) and I was completely shocked to find that, according to them, it’s rare to wash with one.  Well, in my circle anyway.  Dirty, dirty circle.

Just a bar of soap and their hands work fine for them.  Huh.  What about all those crevices?  Those certain unmentionables that I don’t think I want my hands touching on a good day?

Well, “that’s what the soap is for,” they tell me.  Ok, so I gave it a try.  The only problem is, I got the overwhelming need to wash my soap…with a washcloth.  Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m a pretty clean person.  I mean, it’s not like I go out and sling mud or anything.  It’s just that, well, we have….crevices.  I mean, they call them wash cloths for a reason, right?  It’s a cloth to WASH with, correct?  Maybe I’m missing something.

I have to admit that I like my washcloth.  I have a bit of a love affair with my washcloth (get your head out of the gutter).  My washcloth as seen more…oh.  Never mind.  How about those Mets?

McDeaf

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“Welcome to McDonalds.  Can I take your order?”  Said the guy behind the speaker.

“Yes, I’ll take a #2 meal with a sprite.  A 5-piece chicken strip meal with a water and a crispy chicken honey mustard wrap with a coke.  That’s it.  Thank you.”  Said me.

“Would you like fries with the crispy chicken wrap?”

“No thanks.”

“So, you would like a #3 meal…”

“Um, no.  Not a #3.  A #2.”

“Oh.  So you want a chicken wrap meal…”

“No, not a meal.  Just the wrap and a coke, no fries.”

“Oh, sorry.  So you want a 5-piece chicken strip meal with a water and a crispy chicken meal with a coke.  Will that be all?”

“No, I also would like the #2 meal.  With a sprite.”

(Am I being Punk’d?  I looked around for Ashton Kutcher.)

“Oh ok.  Your order comes to $15.74.  Please drive up to window #1.”

Seriously, considering the ordering process didn’t go so well, we were only missing a coke.  Like my New Year’s eve experience with bad ice, I should have known and just drove out of the parking lot.  Why do I do this to myself?  The signs were once again as strong as Popeye on 50 pounds of spinach.

I’m supposed to be on a diet anyway, right?  It looks like that just got bumped back to March.  Darn.

Broken Promises

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Happy New Year!  Or should I say Happy First Month of the New Year!  Like many, I wrote a list of new year’s resolutions for myself.  It looks like this:

  1. Start a blog
  2. Get a real job
  3. Eat more fruits and vegetables
  4. Eat less
  5. Exercise more
  6. Lose weight

Honestly, I don’t think that’s too much to ask of myself.  So, it has been exactly one month and this is what I have accomplished:

  1. Start a Blog – Well, yes. I did.  Yay for me.
  2. Get a real job – Um, I’ve sent in my resume to 2 places and tried to teach myself PowerPoint.  Does that count?
  3. Eat more fruits and veggies – If you count wine as a fruit, then resolution partially achieved.  If not, then….no.
  4. Eat less – Actually I’ve stopped grazing like a damn cow all day.  Ok, maybe I haven’t stopped exactly.  Let’s just say I’ve decreased the grazing a bit.  That is less, right?
  5. Exercise more – I should rephrase that to say “exercise.”  I went for a walk on January 30th.  Unless I continue to do so, that would be a big fat N-O.
  6. Lose weight – Since I basically failed at 3, 4 and 5, I guess it’s obvious what the answer is to #6.

About 3 years ago, I stopped making new year’s resolutions.  Because this is what inevitably happens.  I barely make it past day #1.  I guess because my list looks about the same every year and let’s face it, this girl likes her food.  And more than 1/2 of my resolutions pretty much involve food or the act of reducing food.

But this year was going to be different.  I was so sick of walking by those damn store mirrors and catching a glimpse of myself and being startled because that woman looks like me but couldn’t possibly be.  What I really should have as a resolution is to stop looking at myself in store mirrors.  Stupid store mirrors.  Those suckers ought to make us look like we lost 10 pounds, not gained 10 pounds.

So, instead of tossing the entire list out the window, I am going to start again today.  I’ll let you know how I’m doing in a month.  Do Bloody Mary’s count as a veggie?

I Am a Grouper

No, not a groupIE — a rock band following floozy.  But a groupER — a bottom feeding fish.  That’s how I like to describe myself these days.  I believe that is one of the reasons why I have gained a bale of hay…55 pounds…since this:

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DH, the kid and I went to a local BBQ place for lunch over the weekend.  This is what we ordered:

  • Wings
  • Potato Skins
  • Onions Rings

That was just for starters.  For my main meal, I ordered a pulled pork sandwich with sweet potato fries. The kid ordered a pulled pork sandwich with regular fries, but that doesn’t matter.  She’s 14.

DH ordered a small cup of chili.  That is why I can bounce a quarter off his ass AND his stomach.  Even though he is old.  Even though he is middle-aged.  Because he is not a grouper, he is a guppy.

There was this left over:

  • 1/4 of a potato skin
  • 2 onion rings
  • 1 wing
  • 1/2 sandwich
  • 1 small pile of sweet potato fries

DH hates leftovers.  They pretty much repulse him.  Me?  There are starving children in Ethiopia and I cannot, will not, throw anything away.  Well, unless it starts to look like a science project and even then I have a problem with it.

So against hubby’s wishes I told the server to wrap it all up.  That was Saturday.  Yesterday was Monday.  DH tried to toss out my leftovers twice but I caught him and threatened bodily harm.

So I ate this for lunch to save it’s life:

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Even though I wasn’t hungry.  If I didn’t, it would go into the garbage and I couldn’t live with myself.  I guess that explains why I look like this now:

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All because I can’t throw away food.  Ok, I’ll say it…I’m middle aged too.  I know that doesn’t help.  I also know I’ll never have that 23 year old body again.  But come on.  A bale of hay?

Please Keep the Muffin Top Where It Belongs – In the Bakery

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I have a slight problem.  That problem would be the extra skin, flab, lard, fat — more affectionately known as “The Muffin Top” — around my midsection.  Really.  I’m not running a bakery, so what gives?

Every day, I agonize over getting dressed.  Now of course, if I were willing to give up my size 6 jeans and give in to my “real” size (that would be an 8 or…cough, cough…a 10) I wouldn’t have the problem of spillage.  Yes, I can get them zippered and buttoned.  But only after a few squats, stretches and very — and I mean VERY — deep inhales.  The wondrous sight that awaits me is not pretty.  Let me introduce you to my BFF — the loose fitting top with the elastic around the waist, so it doesn’t show belly you wouldn’t want your own mother to see.

Over the summer I attended a wedding. I kid you not, I had to pour myself into not one, but TWO spanx-like devices so that my tummy would appear slimmer.  Forget about sitting down all day.  And using the bathroom?  Well, let me just say when I excused myself to relieve the bladder, my DH was close to sending out a search team.  I do appreciate the Spanx.  ALOT.  Thank you to the brilliant person who invented them.  I really do LOVE you!  (Disclaimer:  if someone tries to hug you, brush up against you, or even get within arms length of you while wearing these contraptions, your cover is totally blown.)

So why buy bigger jeans and possibly look better too?  Because I’ve got it under “control.”  And anyway, I’m going on a diet Monday.  Nachos anyone?