For Ms. Last Chance

Lately, I've been thinking about this line I heard in a movie years ago, from a mother to her daughter, about a loss she'd suffered. It went something like: I have a stone in my heart for what's happened to you.

This is just what I feel for my wonderful, beautiful, heartbroken friend. A cold, hard, heavy, just WRONG feeling in my heart. There is nothing I can do or say, and it's wrenching for all of us who love her, watching her suffer so horribly. And I'm sorry- I'm sure it would not be better if this had happened in March, but the holidays do not help.

She posted a response to someone suggesting that, if she adopts a baby, she won't know what she's missing anyway. God, I hope that in any small way, that's true. Of all the losses she's had and the mourning she's going through, I would be thrilled to think that she's ignorant of some small piece of joy she'd be missing out on, but I doubt it.

You- I just want you to know that I'm thinking about you all the time. It seems that you are not really ready to talk to your "lucky fertiles you like" but if I'm wrong, please say, so I can call. Or come to see you. I'm missing you, and the list of things I wish and hope and pray for you goes on for miles.

Hey Hey Hey

Well, I decided that even though the fatness continues, I can still put WAY more effort into my appearance. I'm going to be the best fatty I can be. To wit: I have purchased (from Target) and implemented Crest Whitestrips AND a fancy Olay skincare regimen. Perhaps my shiny head will distract others from the hot mess below. I have noticed that using the Whitestrips interrupts key gorging times during my day, so this helps somewhat. Maybe I'll just continue using them until my teeth are radioactive, and I can fit into my college jeans. I also got my hair cut, but I'm not sure it was actually an improvement. But, they massaged my head, so it's totally worth it. From Kohl's, I have purchased a handful of items that actually fit me (don't even ask the size- I could puke). Kohl's, I tell you. Swank! As this shopping spree took place the evening before our season-opening game, most of my new garments are "burnt orange". Now, this is not a color one normally stumbles across outside of the UT coop store, so I am enjoying the feeling that not only am I school spirited, but I am also (accidentally) actually wearing a current color. Oh, you know, it's in all the fall lines... Chaps, Dana Buchman, Sonoma. It's white hot.

In hormonal news, I only really had that one wretched day, so maybe this pill will work out after all. Anyway, it's an improvement. I'm hoping that if I feel more positive overall, I might actually be motivated to make some sort of real change. Oh- I did switch from coffee creamer to 1% though. Look out Nicole Ritchie. I saw in the Target ad that M&Ms are on sale. Cute, holiday-themed discount chocolate. Damn them! I must resist!

And here's a little nugget just for fun: All 3 kids have diarrhea. Little J started Thursday, and the fun just keeps on comin'. Nothing says "brand new me" like being up to your elbows in poop.

Crash

Oh well. I had high hopes for this new pill I'm on, but here I am having a psychotic episode. Probably doesn't help that I had both twins in the ER in the past few days for freak accidents. Mommy confidence at an all-time low. Unfit mother as well as unfit fat-ass. How much more of this before the term clinical depression applies? Did I shower today? Nope. Did I even get dressed? Well, I added a bra and shoes to my pajamas (although, pjs are yoga pants and t-shirt). I'm thinking that if I slept in it, probably I should take it off for the daylight hours. Ugh. Can't even complete this post- just sitting here staring at it. Hate. This.

Hey Ladeez

Okay, so- in an effort to re-energize and re-start, I'm updating my iPod (certainly the most proactive step toward weight loss). Somehow, most of the music I own falls into the Patti Griffin/Alison Kraus genre. Not exactly rump-shakin'. I need recs. I DO have some Justin Timberlake (naturally), but otherwise find myself browsing the iTunes store with a duuuhhhh kind of glazed-over expression.

On a similar note, Corbin and I were watching Entourage last Sunday, and the credit track was Straight Outta Compton. We had one of those eyes locked joyful moments of, "I love this song! Wait- you too?!? See, we ARE soul mates". Moreover, Corbin actually OWNED said N.W.A. tape at one time. This prompted many memories of unlikely music choices past. Such as... when getting ready to go out during college, Shauna and I always listened to the soundtrack to New Jack City. Because, you know, we are down like that. Now let me just say, I'm pretty much your garden variety white girl (see above reference to folk music), but my secret love for rap/r&b runs deep. Maybe it's the drill team girl in me. But I do tend to turn down the volume when pulling into a parking lot, in hopes of avoiding puzzled WTF looks from youngsters. But my iPod is my little secret, and I hope to fill it to the brim with explicit lyrics.

Also- my face is starting to slide off of my head and fold and crease in an unsightly manner. Anybody have restorative potions to suggest?

God is great

ThankyouGodthankyouGodthankyouGod... etc. Mama is still cancer-free. Aaaaaaaaaaaah. Just releasing the breath I've been holding for about a month. So yeah, brain mets would have been bad news indeed, but we are in the clear- her onc says it's just the clots from her TIAs, caused by her mitral valve repair.

I'd been having this wierd, robot response to the situation: (monotone)This will not happen. This will not happen. I just couldn't go there again unless I absolutely had to. My mom makes me completely insane, calls my abdomen a poochie, and has all sorts of mom-flaws, but she is also my perfect, irreplaceable, can't-do-without mother, and I'm so, so grateful that she's well. Thank you, Lord. God is great.

Pre-Menstrual Psychosis

Seriously. For about 3-4 days per month, I feel like I must do some/all of the following
ripping my skin off
screaming
crying
running away to parts unknown

Today, for example, I have zero patience for my beautiful (if sassy) children. Do they deserve a mentally unstable mother? They do not. After putting them down for naptime (I imagine that they were as relieved as I was), I had to sob for about 30 minutes, while eating ice cream straight out of the tub. Do I feel better now? No. Now I'm just sadder and fatter.

I had to go back on the friggin' pill to try to get this worked out, and I'm going to try a new one starting Sunday, but so far... no help. My gyn suggested that exercise would also help this issue, which, while I'm sure that's probably true, made me itch to slap her. Yeah, lady, I'm fat. I get it. Did I mention that I'm feeling psychotic? You may want to watch your smart mouth.

It makes me crazy to feel this crazy, because- what's my problem? I'm sitting here in my big new house (actually clean- the service came this morning), with 3 beautiful healthy children, who I am lucky enough to stay home with. Boo hoo. That's the point, though. It's not really ABOUT anything- just brain chemicals on the fritz, but it FEELS like I live this pointless, miserable existence. What a freak.

Anyway.

Updates: My father's wife passed away in her sleep (at a great hospice) last Thursday. He was fairly prepared, and is doing as well as could be expected. My mother is on her way to MD Anderson today, and should get her results on Monday. My mother-in-law got some good news re: cancer markers, but I believe they're still going to remove her ovaries (so, I guess we'll know for sure w/ the path report?). Thanks for the support and well-wishing.

These Things Come in Threes

Ugh. Can we wipe this week off the books? And soooo much more to come. In summation:

1. My mom had an MRI and an MRA to see what's up with the TIA and/or seizure symptoms she's having, but instead they found "something" which she now has to go to MD Anderson about, to rule out brain mets (she had breast cancer 10 years ago).
2. My mother-in-law is having tests to rule out ovarian cancer, after an abnormal exam and then an abnormal MRI.
3. My dad called earlier, bawling. Now, I'm struggling to recall him even teary at, like, a graduation or something. Anyway, he had to sign his wife's DNR today, and it looks like she only has a few more days. Stage IV lung cancer with bone mets (unspeakably painful) and possible brain mets. Bad stuff. We do have a history of discord, but this is my dad, and his anguish is completely unbearable to me.

So yeah, awesome week. Also many mundane irritations, like a near-death Honda Civic to deal with, my first mammogram (actually, not THAT bad), crazy kids, etc. Anyway, I was checking in on facebook, and a friend from high school drill team had posted this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0#watch-main-area

I'm not usually a sap (okay, maybe sometimes), but it just made me feel better. I have joy in my life every day, and I'm so, so grateful. I'm fat, and I have a lot of crap happening, but there's a lot of good stuff in there too. Like when one twin cracks the other one up. 18-month-old giggles are THE BEST. Or this morning, Miss E was consoling Buzz Lightyear (of Toy Story) at the moment he realizes that he is just a toy and not, in fact, a space ranger. "Oh, Buzz. I'm so sorry! It's okay, it's okay".

I guess I'm just all over the place these days. Giggles to tears in minutes. Good practice for menopause. So, keep my entire family in your prayers, and keep away from me with my bad juju.

PS- Also, I'm too stupid to figure out how to add youtube clips to blog posts. Sorry.

Emmy-nominated Jim Parsons

Whenever he's mentioned from here on out, that's what he'll be. I'm so proud, I could puke. And could he have looked more excited? I loved watching that moment with him. For those of you who don't know him, I'm pleased to report that as odd/anti-social/rude as Sheldon is, Jim is the polar opposite. Warm, funny and just all-around fantastic. For example? How many calls and emails must he have gotten today, but he still took the time out to return mine. Love him. Then again, I knew I was backing a winner when we were 9 years old. Congratulations sweet friend, and I can't wait to see you kick Alec Baldwin's ass.

Not on topic, I know, but I just had to send my excitement out into the blogosphere. Naturally, yes, I am still quite portly. If I suddenly become svelte, I will be sure to let you know.

The pic is from the last time I saw him in person, 2 and a half years ago (poor). He was still in New York then, and was always good about meeting me at Grand Central (at the clock, natch), because I'm a big baby about New York, and refuse to venture out unassisted. Look how little Miss E is! Anyway, I'm sure he'll invite me to all the glamorous Emmy afterparties, since a visit is so overdue. Hmm.... what to wear...

Yep. Still Fat.

Just in case you were wondering. So, Corbin had a work party on Saturday, and guess what- I had nothing to wear. The whole ass-is-too-fat-for-everything-I-own thing is further compounded by my allergy to shopping. Hate. It. Partially, I hate it because I'm too big for anything cute, but those who have known me long enough know that my older sister sucked all the style sense out of the gene pool before I got there, and I have looked like crap most of my life, skinny or no. Hey, I have the Jessica McClintock-riddled photos to prove it. Some garments are never a good idea. On anyone. Ever. Yes, that one was for my 8th grade dance- in a lovely virginal white, no less- as if there were any doubt. I have to say that I outdid myself with my prom dress, though. White (again?!?), shirred, sleeves too poofy to be believed. Oh dear.

So anyway, I did my thing where I stood in my closet, looking around, waiting for something to magically appear. Even the things I'm too big to fit into are freakishly ugly. Where do I get this crap? What made me buy it? Conclusion: I own not one single clothing item that I enjoy wearing, or feel good in. That can't be helpful in terms of self-image. So, do I buy motivational cute things in sizes too small? Or, do I get it over with and head over to Lane Bryant? The annoying thing is that it's not that I'm just heavy- I'm also grotesquely deformed, and even in bigger sizes, things don't fit right. Sigh. I really wish they still had that extreme makeover show. That's what I need. That, or I need to find onesies in my size. I've noticed that baby G and I have a similar build (giant belly, jiggly legs w/ rolls), and she walks around in cool, confident comfort every day. Hmm...

Dumela, Mma

Well, I did take a look at the Weight Watchers website. Does that count as progress? Yeah, I didn't think so either. The good news is that (somehow, miraculously) I haven't gained back much of what I'd lost, but neither am I losing the considerable weight I have yet to lose. Here's my new plan: I have decided, based solely on watching The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency on HBO, that I am going to move to Botswana. I so enjoy that they refer to larger ladies as having a "traditional build"- a desirable trait, no less! The main character is outfitted in some quite beautiful dresses, which perfectly suit a woman her size- maybe I could find some at World Market? The language is beautiful, and apart from some considerable political unrest, I think this plan has merit.

So, just as I am a lazy weight-loser, it turns out that I am a lazy blogger also. Naturally, the two are related- what's to tell when I'm just sitting on my ass? Gotta get back in the game on all counts. Although, despite being a lazy blogger, it turns out that I am nevertheless offensive to various family members. That's why I deleted the last post, by the way. My mom forbids that I mention any of my family in future posts. Well, as all of us who have been 14 can easily recall, the surest way to get me to do something is to forbid it. Really, if the readers of this blog know me well, they know all about my criminally insane family members, and for those readers who are strangers to me- they don't know my family, so who cares? Obviously, I have no desire to disparage my loved ones, but our history of teasing and verbal abuse goes back generations, so... it's all in good fun- or at least, that is my intention. And okay, the mommie dearest post was a little harsh, so I'm sorry if your feelings were hurt (even if you did start it by calling my midsection a poochie, but I digress...).

Okay, so I have some questions about WW. WHY does it work- I'm not sure I get it. How should I use it so that I get the most out of it. Any tips/suggestions would be really helpful.

Reason of the day: Miss E is going to be 18 and still not know how to swim if I keep avoiding swim lessons based on swimsuit phobia. Also, she LOVES the pool, as much as I loathe it. It's damn hot already and this kid deserves some fun.

Mommie Dearest

Yikes- haven't posted for six days. Lazy. In every way. Also only worked out twice and haven't lost an ounce, natch. Predictably, I lost my zeal early in the game, so I need to get re-energized and find a way to stay focused. Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels, right? My arse. Talk to me after a Krispy Kreme. I keep saying I'm going to join weight watchers, but then I don't for some reason. I honestly believe in it, so I don't know what's holding me back. My guess is that if I do join, then I'll have to actually toe the line- drag.

In inspirational news, I was talking to my mom the other day. You know what's coming. Here's how it went:

Me: So, are you still going to be able to babysit for me when I go for my GYN appointment?
Her: Sure! Don't forget to ask her about your poochie.
Me: My WHAT? (Thinking- is she trying to say coochie? Please, God, no).
Her: You know, whatever you call it- your belly/stomach/thing.
Me: (pause) Stream of expletives.

Okay, so my own mother is referring to my (admittedly severely flawed) midsection as a "poochie". Sigh. Her "support" for the reconstruction of said belly has been unflagging, indeed. She seemed genuinely surprised by my pique as she considers the state of things "not my fault". Debatable. Now, the twins did stretch my skin past the point of no return, that's for sure (see pic of the night before they were born- yikes). However, I might not have ended up with the diastasis if I'd had any abdominal tone to begin with. Also, there is the overlying lardiness to consider. Moreover, I'm not sure that apportioning blame really makes a difference- this is part of my body we're talking about.

I also went shopping (at Target, of course) and was trying on a few things. Yowza. Full-length mirrors are NOT my friend. Actually, I should probably put them up all over my house. I'd never eat another bite.

Alrighty. Back in the saddle.

Weigh-in

Well, I'm at 178.5 in the morning, and still 181 at night. Split the difference? Either way, not much action this week, and no wonder. I had a great brunch with Ashley and Bea, but I am physically unable to resist Kerbey Lane pancakes. Just can't stop myself. Also, I had either a stomach bug or mild food poisoning earlier this week, which didn't prevent my eating as much as you might think, but I certainly had no desire to mount a bike. Ugh.

Okay, so I've decided that I need a celebrity role-model to use as a goal. Whatever, you know you all have that celebrity that you think you are most like. When I was a little girl, people (well, my mother) used to say Brooke Shields- we both have unruly eyebrows and the buck stops there. When I was a tweener, Jennifer Connolly was like my twin! My sister Suzanne claimed Michelle Pfeiffer, which I agreed with, but only in her death scene in Dangerous Liaisons. Ah, the bosom of sisterly love. In fairness, when I was a teenager, my entire family decided my new celeb look-alike was Buster Poindexter (of "Hot, Hot, Hot" fame). Makes you want to join us for Christmas dinner, am I right? Anyway, if I'm being realistic, Kirsty Alley is probably my go-to girl. Kathy Najimy? Okay, but I need ideas for my goal-celeb-body. And let's be realistic. Paris Hilton need not apply (for oh so many reasons- skank). You'd think with my subscription to US weekly, I'd have this covered. Hmmm...

I saw that Corbin pulled a coupon for Shipley donuts out of the valu-pak today. It is sitting on my kitchen island right now. Mere steps away... Discount donuts? As I am notoriously cheap and have a life-long love affair with baked goods, the combination is almost too much to resist. I need to burn it.

What I really need to do is re-think some things. After an okay first week, things have slowed to a crawl. I need to make bigger changes, or I'll never get anywhere with this. I'm thinking maybe Weight Watchers. In nursing school, I seem to remember reading that it's the only program clinically proven to lead to sustainable results. Ugh- I do hate joining things, though. Also, it's clear that biking is less effective than jogging, so I'll have to add that back in. Boo.

Little J has croup, so I did spent some time today with him steamin' it up in the bathroom. They always have saunas at gyms. Is that a weight-loss thing, or just a detox/relax thing? See, I'm thinking my twins could be quite effective weight-loss tools. Already, I carry them up the stairs at least half a dozen times per day. That's over 50 extra pounds, on top of the extra 50 I've already got going. Jeez. No wonder I'm exhausted all the time- and that my knees are grinding down to dust. If only I could get them nursing again. I lost 30 pounds in less than a month after they were born. Hmm... maybe I'll look into wet nursing as a career. Cash and slim thighs? Sign me up!

Reason of the day: Ratted out. So, at Miss E's open house, one of the art projects on display was a rendering of her family, with a little "interview" attached below. Hers reads, "I like to play chase with my mom and dad. We like to go to Target to shop for cookies. We like to go eat at McDonald's and Chik-Fil-A. I love my daddy because he tickles me. I love my mommy because she takes care of my babies. My favorite food mommy makes for me is fried chicken and corn". Okay, there are some cute details there, but overall- what a snitch! I'll admit that we ate fast food way too much right after we moved into the house, but come on. Also- I NEVER cook fried chicken (too time-consuming) or corn (fake non-vegetable). Okay, the Target part is true, but not really something I feel the need to share with the PTA, you know? I guess my girl is keeping me honest, like it or not.

Reboot

Yay! I haven't been able to get this to work for several days- I do apologize for depriving you. So, after the Easter debacle, I'm coming in at about 181 (total loss 6.5, for the week 2.5). Now, it's Friday (weigh-in is supposed to be Wednesday), and even still, not much progress this week. However, I'm glad to have made any, considering: Ate take-out twice rather than the allotted once, finished off the "extra" Hershey chocolate eggs after putting together Miss E's basket, and then there was the Easter meal itself. Not as bad as it could have been: Ham, salad (okay, potato salad), beans (okay, bbq beans), rolls (bad), and pie(s). My evil mother brought two different pies to tempt me, and I did not stand up to the temptation for even a moment. Okay, so I told her to bring the pies (you know, for everyone else), so I guess I'll let it slide. It would have been rude not to try a little of each, right? Even though she did not, in fact, make them herself? She did thaw them, and I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings.

On the plus side, I have found a new source of exercise: the bike. I'm really having trouble with my knees, so this has helped. Unfortunately, the bike in question is Corbin's. As he is almost a foot taller than me, and, you know, male, it is safe to say that the bike is not so much adjusted for me. The actual riding is okay, but the start involves a kamikaze all-or-nothing approach, the results of which are mixed at best. Stopping is a little easier- I just brake and keel over into the grass. But the middle part is good. Still results in enough sweating and lung burning to convince me that I'm doing something, but cooler (temperature-wise, obviously), and I can actually cover some ground. Although, hurts my vag.

Reason of the day/week: Regret. One of my least favorite things about myself (there are many, as you might imagine) is that I spend way, way too much time on this emotion. For example, because I was a jackass in about 20 different ways, my video camera ran out of batteries literally 20 seconds into Miss E's preschool class recital at open house this week. It was about 4 minutes of extreme cuteness that I can't get back, and I can't. Stop. Thinking. About. It. I have been perseverating all week, whining, losing sleep. I mean, it's over. I can't fix it now, so I just have to get over myself. So, you can imagine the regret I feel about letting myself gain 60 pounds for no good reason. Okay, I'll give myself 10-15 for age and 3 babies, but that's still a lot of ice cream unaccounted for. But, as with the video camera situation, the only thing I can do is move on from here- make sure I do better next time. I hope that I can look back at this year as time that I finally got myself together. So- moving on...

Lean Cuisine

I submit that it is neither lean nor cuisine. Ugh. I'll never last on this junk. I'm going to have to break down and prepare real foods with actual ingredients. Healthy ones. Dear me. I don't even know where to start. Having grown up on 70s staples like shepherd's pie and chicken pot pie- lots of pies, evidently- I'm sort of at a loss. Also, I suck at cooking. Suggestions? I swear, do not say grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. Why is that always the example?

So, no, I do not have good running shoes. I am wearing whatever jogging shoes were on sale at Kohl's before the babies were born. This might explain why my knees are crying for mercy. Creaking and wheezing with every move. Also- I'm pretty sure I have a DVT. I have a weird, dull, kind of full-ish feeling behind my right knee. That can't be good, right? On the plus side, I don't feel like my lungs are going to explode out of my chest on the first lap.

A jogging hazard for country folk: deer. Every night I see their glowing yellow eyes. Every night there are more of them. They are up to something, I can feel it. When I see them, I move from the street to the sidewalk, as if their complaint might be that I'm not ceding the right-of-way. I may need a better bailout plan.

Reason of the day: Wearing jeans during summer in Texas really, really, really sucks. Of course, there is the option of crops or capris, but I'd like to get in on this Bermuda short trend before micro-minis start popping up again. Sadly, maxi-dresses only look good on waifs (see Jessica Simpson).

So, Scott is(was) the blind guy on American Idol. And I'm sorry, but he only made it this far because he's blind. No question. Moreover, he chose to sing "The Search is Over" (Survivor). And I quote, "Now I look into your eyes, I can see forever...". I can't help it. That is just wrong all over the place. I know, I SAID I was going to burn. He was kind of a sassy britches anyway, so whatev.

Week One Wrap-Up

Say that 10 times fast. So, although I didn't get my scale working until Friday, I started this on Wednesday, so I'll stick with that for a weekly update. I'm currently at 183.5, which is 4 pounds lost. Sweet! I can just do this for about 12 weeks and be at my goal weight. Should I plan a bikini-based vacation for August? Oh, settle down. I know how this works, folks. Seriously portly people such as myself can drop a few pretty easy in the beginning, and as you get closer to goal, each pound hangs on like grim death. I'm actually at 182, but only in the early morning, before I eat anything, so forget that. It's a nice wake-up, though. Oh, how sad. Nice? 182?

So, I find that jogging is less like cruel and unusual punishment with an ipod. I had lost my good one a while back, and Corbin got me a shuffle for Christmas- best not to trust me with fancy gadgetry. Let's face it- I don't even know how to text. Anyway, the experience is more tolerable without having to listen to my wheezing and stomping. Last time I lost weight, I was working out at the YMCA, and watching TV helped to pass the cardio time, but they always had the food network on. WTF? That is sooo not helpful.

Okay, I have to confess that I had a Pria bar between lunch and dinner today. I know that I swore off eating between meals, but it is too long sometimes. Especially with two boogery (and therefore pissy) kids. Luckily, my babies mash everything they eat into a revolting pulp, so I'm not tempted to steal their leftovers, like Bea. Moreover- I am totally not tempted by Kashi crackers and craisins. If they were having donuts and coffee, I'd be all over it. On a more positive note, I did not get any Easter chocolate for myself. Well, not since Wednesday. I've been eating Easter M&Ms since they hit the shelves, but I'm going to have to kick this habit cold-turkey.

And I'm just going to say it. I'm glad that Scott got voted off. I may burn for it, but he was making me CRAZY.

Baby J

Okay, I think my body is staging a coup. I felt like I was under water for most of the day today. Soooo sloooooow. I thought exercising was supposed to make you feel more energetic. I KNEW that was all just propaganda- same thing with the food pyramid- that fat/sugar section is waaay too small. This is probably just my version of detox. I'm used to about 100 grams of sugar before 9:00 AM. And then a continuous feed.

So, guess what's more fun that dieting and exercising? Everything. Everything is more fun- a lot more. I would rather have a dental cleaning- at least you can eat whatever you want an hour afterward. I need to find something I really like to do. Jogging is like workin' on the chain gang. When I was in the best shape was in high school, jumping around like a maniac in the hot sun for 3 hours a day in drill team. Hmm... where can I find a kick line for 35-year-olds? Is jazzercise as ridiculous as it sounds, or has it evolved into a more funky/current thing? If I'm going to pop-and-lock my way into fitness, I want to be sure to look cool doing it. If you're thinking that this seems unlikely, I have some hot 90's footage of me and a hundred other girls rocking "Final Countdown".

Reason of the day: Baby J. He's walking now, which means he'll be running in about 3 minutes. Which also means that Baby G isn't far behind. She's more like me, though. She likes to sit in one spot and let people bring her snacks. So, with the two of them going and Miss E already wearing me out, I need to be in much better shape to keep up with them. I'm sorry to report that my big girl's favorite thing is to be dragged around the yard at top speed in a wagon, but I tell her that I'm "not strong enough" and that she has to wait for her dad. Pathetic. In my defense, though, I would probably have a heart attack, so it's sort of true. Anyway, they deserve a mom who's way more energetic (not to mention more organized, a better cook, etc., etc.).

Hollywood

Well, my Friday night dinner turned out to be Saturday, and on a date, no less! Corbin and I got to go on an actual dinner-and-movie date! Thanks, Nana. Anyway, we went for Mexican food (always a sensible choice). I steered clear of the chimichanga and cheese enchiladas, and went with a chicken gordita. It was made with grilled chicken, refried beans, and a reasonable amount of cheese. Not great, but not the worst thing on the menu. Also, Corbin assures me that the translation for gordita is "healthy, dietetic food item". Hmm, seems not quite right...

Reason of the day: Joel McHale. So, he is my celebrity crush. I don't care for the Brad Pitt or (God forbid) Vin Diesel types. I like 'em tall and skinny and wry. So anyway, here's how he figures in. If by some chance, I find myself sitting next to him in first class on a plane to NY, LA, or London (why would I be doing this? Well, you just NEVER know), he will inevitably be captivated by me. The London flight is more reasonable in this scenario- gives him a little more time to fall in love with me. Anyway, I will of course have to let him down gently. Oh Joel, I'm so flattered, really, but I'm happily married, etc. Naturally, I would have to be looking my best (and then some) for this to work out. So- Joel is my reason of the day.

To explore my delusions a bit further, the movie we saw had Julia Roberts in it. Okay, so Julia and I have lots in common (naturally), having three kids- including a set of twins. Um... and she's from the South. Um... Oh! She was married to Lyle Lovett, who is from Spring, which is where I grew up, so I imagine she's been there. See? Like sisters, really. So, as I'm watching, I'm thinking, "Her arms aren't really that skinny. Really, she's a reasonable size. I bet I could get to that size". What a nut job. Whatever the opposite of anorexia is, that's what I have. I can be totally convinced that I'm not heavy- just a few extra pounds, really- until I see a photo of myself, or step on the scale. It's nice to have a rich fantasy life (see previously mentioned Joel McHale scenario), but I need to , as they say, "keep it real". Word.

TGIF

Okay, so I don't cook on Fridays. We get take-out, and you can bet it's not a side salad, hold the dressing. I think I'm going to keep my Friday dinners as an oasis in a week of tastelessness. I worry that, like the junkie I am, one taste of the good stuff will send me into a shame spiral of donuts and chocolate, but we'll see. I hope not (sort of).

Penny- alright, out with it. HOW did you lose 42 pounds? I NEED to know. I must do this very thing (and then some). I get so overwhelmed thinking about the big number I need to whittle down, so I'm just going to attack this thing in 10-pound increments. Many, many 10-pound increments.

After a trip to Target today, I finally found the weirdo battery for my scale. So, now I know how much I weigh. I'll say this- I feared worse, but it's a bad, bad scene. I swore I'd be honest about this, so here goes... 187.5 I admit that I just peed and reweighed myself before writing the last line, in the hopes of eliminating about 40 pounds, but no luck. Oh. My. God. So, if you recall, I weighed around 125 pounds at college graduation, which means that I've gained 60 pounds since my husband and I started dating.

Which brings me to my reason of the day: False advertising. He's a lovely person, my husband, and would never say a word. But come on, it's not like he hasn't noticed, and if I were him, I'd certainly care. I was a slim, energetic 22-year-old, and have progressed at an alarming rate into tubby middle-aged lethargy. When we moved in together, I used to bake him a cake a week (yet another campaign promise unfulfilled), which started me off on the path to ruin. Actually, up to that point in my life, I used to eat whatever I wanted. No problem. Giant bowls of ice cream, fettuccine alfredo, a whole row of oreos? Yup. I remember looking at overweight people at that time and thinking, "I don't get it. WHAT are these people eating?" Oh, karma.

So anyway, there's no way I'm losing 62.5 pounds, and it's unrealistic to think I could get back to my 22-year-old self after 3 kids anyway. So, what do you think? I'm thinking I could go for 145, then have my diastasis repair/tummy tuck (well, as long as they're in there, right?), and that could knock off another few, to come in near 140. Is there any way I could do that? Seems totally insurmountable. I want to twitch my nose, a la Bewitched, and just be done with it.

And just to be clear, I am not "big boned" (is there such a thing?), and I do not have thyroid problems (really, Oprah, I expect more from you). This is purely a result of eating too much crap and sitting around on my every increasing butt. So. The punishment fits the crime. No excuses. Although, I really think I'll feel so much better at a healthier weight. Also, getting started in springtime is nice. At night, when I'm out jogwalking, it's crisp and cool and nice and starry out here in Georgetown. I could think of worse ways to spend my time (two hours watching American Idol with a pack of M&Ms comes to mind...).

So, here I go. The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first blah, blah, blah...

Jogging? Jiggling.

I'm so glad I made the choice to go for my maiden jog under the cover of darkness. I don't even want to know what I looked like, puffing around the block. This is what I did: walked one loop (warm up), jogged one loop (almost fatal), and finished with a cool-down loop. Just a moderate-sized block, so no biggie. But, since I get winded going up the stairs, it was an accomplishment of sorts. I'll just do this for a couple more days before I step it up. I need to be one of those people (liars) who claim to be "addicted" to exercise. Really, it's so much easier to be addicted to ice cream.

I'm going to start a reason of the day for this weight-loss. So... reason of the day: general ugliness. Man, there is some serious unsightliness going on. In addition to garden-variety fatness, I have about a yard of excess skin on my abdomen from the twins (plus stretch marks, natch). I also still have diastasis from that pregnancy, which means that my innards are out, so the midsection is just plain wrong. I am dreading the day that someone asks, "So, when are you due?". And the chins... don't get me started.

Okay, so I have to build some incentive into this process that does not involve Krispy Kreme. I think the obvious choice is clothes. Maybe every 10 pounds, I'll give myself a mini-spree (at Target, probably). Those of you who have threatened to send in my name for What Not to Wear will support this idea, I think. Clearly, I have no style of my own, so I may have to recruit you for shopping. Helpfully, my mother continues to offer clothing that she no longer wants, or clothes that are too big for her now (grr). However, I really think there's a limit to how much Liz Claiborne a 35-year-old should have in her wardrobe. Even I turn up my nose at double pleats. I admit that she has some nice things, but I'm afraid she over-estimates the grooviness of her taste. Example: She swears to this day that she saw her Rockport sandals on a model in Vogue.

Alrighty. Thanks for the support guys!

April Fool

So, the deal is that I've now been overweight for more than a decade. When I graduated from high school ('91), I weighed 115 pounds. College graduation ('96), 125 pounds- more, but certainly a respectable weight. After working for about a year, I was at 138 pounds, and I remember thinking, "I should really get this under control now". Ahahahahah! As it stands, I would LOVE to weigh 138 pounds. I actually don't know how much I weigh at the moment. I finally unearthed my scale from a moving box, but the battery is out, so... scary reveal to come. I shudder to think.

Most people start their weight-loss journey at some sort of milestone. New Year's day, birthday, anniversary. I was going to start in January (with Oprah), but have procrastinated as usual, and here we are. April Fool's day- pretty appropriate, actually. I'm blogging this experience in the hope of shaming myself into good behavior. I stole this idea from weight watchers (although their phrasing might be SLIGHTLY different). I think the public weigh-ins are genius, and the bell-ringing for pounds lost is great. I think they should take it a step further, though, and for those who fall off the wagon, maybe sound a grim toll. Better yet, how about a good, hard slap on the face and a, "shame on you". That'd slim you down right quick. Anyway. I'm depending on you all to keep me honest and on the right path. Slap those Oreos out of my hands if you must.

So, this initial post is a shameless call for support and encouragement, but I'm also hoping for any advice you may have. I get the whole eat less/exercise more thing, but any little tricks would be great. As long as it's not that maple syrup/cayenne craziness, I'm willing to try pretty much anything. My day one plan is to not eat between meals or after dinner, and to start walking/jogging tonight. I'm going to strive for normal portions, rather than my usual lumberjack-sized. A jump-start would be great, but ultimately, I need sustainable changes. A life free of chocolate is unrealistic for me, but half of a bag of M&Ms is probably not a great serving size.

So... here goes. Heidi Klum, watch your back.