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.