Charlie and the Laboratory Chicken

Here’s the thing.

Ever since I hit my goal weight, I’ve been running like a chicken with my head cut off. No time to take a breath and enjoy life. Because the kids still have 8 million activities and appointments. Matt and I are trying to finalize some big plans for our family. We are still going through some court related issues that leave my heart spinning. All of this is still happening while I’m supposed to be celebrating this uber huge weight loss.

I’ve not really had time to come to terms with all of it. Because even though it’s a wonderful thing, I’m feeling emotionally vulnerable.

(Not to mention an hour after I announced my weight loss victory, the local news called me and wanted to know if they could talk to me and film in my home. For a recovering recluse, this was a BIG step towards getting over my old “You can’t come inside” habits. Breaking chains, people, even when there’s not enough Xanax in the world. If you didn’t see it, click here and catch it!)

So I’ve been running, dashing and speaking, but had yet to take a moment to celebrate all that’s happened.

Now, yesterday was one of those fart in a can kind of days. And what I mean by that is I was so busy, there wasn’t even time to sniff your own stink. (Admit it. You’ve pookered and waved the bottom air up to see what it smelled like. And sometimes, I bet you even were impressed with yourself. We’ve ALL done it. I’m just stupid enough to admit it. Moving on.) I had 8 tasks to complete in the 2 hours between getting all the kids on the bus and having to work at the middle school for parent volunteer time. INSANITY.

I was rushing from place to place to place to place, trying to make every microsecond count. And finally, I got to my doctor’s office where I had to get some routine blood work done. (Regular checkups, people. It could save your life.)

There I was, sitting in a PACKED laboratory waiting room. And I finally had a moment to breathe. And it kinda scared me. Just the hugeness of it. (That’s what she said.) And I knew I needed to laugh or I would cry from physical and emotional exhaustion. I needed a distraction.

So my friend Christine had linked up this story on my facebook wall from The Bloggess, with a comment of “Charlie Hester...you will laugh your butt off!!! I can see us doing this if we ever went shopping together. Too bad we don't live in the same town! We'd be TROUBLE!” (And THAT, my friends, is how you successfully bait and triple dog dare me to read something.)

For those of my friends who have more delicate sensibilities, I’ll warn you that the Bloggess doesn’t have a cursing filter. For my other friends, (especially Results not Typical Girl and Jia) this post won’t even phase you (in fact, you’ve probably already read it). 

I’m linking it up here if you would care to read it for yourself. You’ve been disclaimed. (But really, the rest of this post won’t make any sense at all if you don’t read it. So maybe just go for it. You can thank me later. Or send me irritated emails that I violated your eyes. It’s really your call.)

Now. There are a few things you need to know about me to understand this post.

A) Matt and I are “catch phrase” junkies. If it’s funny to us, we will repeat it until the day we die. (We quoted lines from the movie Supertroopers in our wedding vows. Me: “I will love you from meow until forever.” Matt, without missing a beat: “Did you just say MEOW?” He didn't even know it was coming. I LOVE THAT MAN SO MUCH! We are THOSE kinds of people.)

B) We are always on the lookout for phrases we can add to our repertoire. Again, if it’s funny, we will repeat it.

C) Matt and I have a fantastic relationship without being unrealistic about the other’s personality. We know we both have “qwerks” and even though they occasionally annoy us, we also find them hysterical about one another. (He makes fun of my fantasticly over exaggerated “Phone-Voice.” I make fun of the fact he drives like Mr. Magoo. Touche.)

D) We love having fun. We would rather have fun than be romantic. That’s just who we are.

E) When I really get to laughing, it’s loud, obnoxious, snorty, and annoying to others who aren’t laughing.

Back to the point of this story. (Assuming it has one.)

Packed lab. 20 + minutes to kill. Triple dog dare. And, this leads me to starting to read the Bloggess for the first time in a packed room of cranky people.

So there I am, sitting in a chair between 2 old gals on one side, and a really old gentleman on the other side. My iphone is out, the blog post is up, and I started to read.

And the laughing started almost immediately. Because Matt and I have had the same *types* of conversations about me spending money. I come home with useless crap from Big Lots ALL. THE. TIME.

At first, my laughing started as the church giggles. (Laughing in inappropriate places at inappropriate times.) As I kept reading her witty banter (especially the part about *giving* a person perspective) I thought I was going to lose it. Church giggles turned into snort laughing as QUIETLY as I could. (which frankly, it’s impossible to snort laugh quietly.)

AND THEN:

I got to the picture of her chicken on the front door. I was GASPING FOR AIR, imagining Matt’s reaction if he answered a knock and saw that beauty blocking the front door. Because as annoyed as he would be, it would be hysterical. TO ME. And whomever was brave enough to help me haul a ginormous metal chicken up my driveway and wait in the bushes with me to see what Matt's response would be.

AND THAT WAS WHEN I READ THE CAPTION UNDERNEATH THE PICTURE OF THE CHICKEN AT THE DOOR.

And I first read it as “knock knock, mother clucker.” And I did a screaming gasp of laughter, because this was going to be a new quote between Matt and I the second I got home and made him read it. And I did the screaming gasp of laughter again (but louder) when I saw that *it did not in fact say clucker*

I WAS GONE. My laugh was echoing through the entire clinic. 95% of the people were shooting me dirty looks, totally annoyed that I was being so inconsiderate and cackling like a fool.

But the other 5%? Those are the people that freaking make my day.

The two old gals sitting on one side of me were chuckling to themselves, and I finally heard one of the ladies say “I can’t stand it anymore.”

Tap tap tap on my shoulder.

Me (trying not to sound like a crazy person): “Ye-hehehehehehehehe. Sorry. Yes?”

Old gal: “Honey, WHAT on earth is so funny?”

Me: “It’s… (giggle) a story… (snort) about a… (wiping tears from my eyes) BIG… (volume control of my voice has now escaped me and I’m now yelling at full throttle) METAL CHICKEN! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!” (at which point I resumed my uncontrollable laughing fit)

Other old gal: “What’d she say? All I heard was metal chicken.”

Random person ALL THE WAY across the room: “We ALL heard about the big metal chicken.”

And that was my very first time reading the Bloggess. And I feel much better now.

The End.

How to tell the world you lost 100 pounds without a single ounce of dignity

Charlie, the Progress Pictures, and the Parking Lot Syndrome

So last night after the kids were gone for the weekend, I had Matt help me take some new bathing suit pictures. It wasn’t nearly as scary as the first time because after doing my measurements from beginning to practically the end, I KNEW I would see a huge difference.

And I wasn’t disappointed.

But for those of you who didn’t get the sneak peak on facebook, or those who have come over from FB and want to see the rest of the side by side pics, you are going to have to wait a minute and read what I’m about to say first before we get to the photos.

 Because of all the places I expected the parking lot syndrome to happen, I wasn’t prepared to have it go on in my living room last night.

What is the parking lot syndrome?

My, am I glad you asked!

Parking Lot Syndrome: When you know exactly where you park your car at the beginning of a shopping trip, but after finishing at the store (usually totally flustered) you walk out to the parking lot and 2 things happen. A) You cannot remember where you parked your car… and B) You have a hard time remembering what your car looks like because you are seeing other cars that look similar in style but aren’t quite right.  When A and B happen, you usually end up walking around the parking lot for 5 minutes looking for ANYTHING in your vehicle that looks familiar to you.

See, all this dieting and personal growth has CHANGED me in ways I’ve never thought possible. At this point in my life, as pleased as I am with the changes on the outside, I am thrilled-to-betsy face-on-the-ground-thankful for the changes that happened in me that no one can see.

Like---

-becoming a recovering agoraphobic who now not only leaves her house on a regular basis, but also lets people come inside and even has spontaneous company without having a panic attack.

 -being a girl who understands that pain is an important part of life. It is OK for us to be hurt, physically and emotionally, and I have learned to embrace pain when it happens.

-learning that my biggest hurdle with any challenge I face has nothing to do with the circumstances around me. It has everything to do with the 6 inches in between my ears. That headspace is the most powerful weapon we own, and it can be used for evil (negative talk, self doubt, discouragement) or for good (positive encouragement and ego boosting).

I promise I am not going to turn this message into a sermon, but I would be remiss without stating once again that this journey didn’t happen because of me. It happened because I surrendered it to God. I promised Him I would do all the outside work (controlling my food, exercising, etc.) and be determined, but HE would have to make the physical changes happen. I know for a fact that if I hadn’t surrendered this issue I could never have done it. I walked into this diet with the mindset of “I cannot do this on my own. I KNOW THAT. So help me, God. As long as You keep showing up and being faithful, I will never give up.”

I’m not saying you have to believe what I do to lose weight. Lots of my friends believe differently than me, and they have also found success in weight loss. But for me, it took that moment of realizing how inadequate I was and being left with no choice but to just relax. By giving it to God, it took all the pressure off of me to not fail or fail. I knew that no matter what happened, I would see results.

And that, my friends, is exactly what brings us to the parking lot syndrome in my living room last night. Because I had been peeking in my “before” pictures about a half hour before we started snapping the updated pics. (Honestly, I was waiting for my bra lines to disappear. That takes a good while. ;)

So I was looking at all my “heaviest” pictures in a bathing suit. I have looked at them lots of times, but I suppose the scope of my past had not really hit me with the magnitude it was about to come down with.

I got into my smaller suit, posed for some pics, checked them on the camera, and deemed they were ok to use. I plugged in the camera’s memory card, and started cropping the pics and adjusting the exposure (to lighten them up a bit so we could see better.) I didn’t change the dimensions (I didn’t stretch them to make myself look skinnier) and then I compared them side by side with the before.

AND THAT WAS WHEN IT HAPPENED. PARKING LOT SYNDROME.

I saw this one first. The backs.

Because I kept thinking that I still looked like the girl on the left. (Went into the store and parked one place.) But looking at the girl on the right, it’s a totally different car we are talking about. (Walked out of the store and thought where the heck is my car?) It was hard to believe that it was really me. I mean, I KNOW it was me, because I was there for both pictures. (And trust me, you don’t ever forget the emotional trauma of those first bathing suit pics. EVER.) But it just didn’t seem like this kind of an enormous change was possible. I knew I’d lost a lot of weight and a lot of inches, but this was crazy.

Then I saw the side pics.

I knew I carried most of my weight on my belly. And as a recovering girdle addict, I know that I still have issues with how my tummy looks, especially with the excess skin I have. But once I saw these pictures next to each other, I realized that I have nothing to be ashamed of. Flappy excess skin or not, I’m a different woman all together. 

Then, finally, the fronts.

Wow. Just wow. It’s not very often my own transformation leaves me speechless, and I think that's because I see myself every single day. I'm used to the changes and don't notice too much of a difference. 

But this one just left me slackjawed and silent. And it also made me cry.

Here’s the thing. When I look at the girl on the left, I don’t just see myself. I see a woman who is broken- emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I see a person who looks so uncomfortable in her own skin that it’s painful. I see aching knees and back and shoulders, constant headaches from poor nutrition, and eyes that are swallowed up by a puffy face. I see a woman who is sick and tired of being sick and tired. It’s not that I see a fat girl. I see a sad girl. I know she’s smiling here, but it’s a forced smile for the sake of the camera.

But the girl on the right?

Effortless smiles. Concentrated joy that is exploding from her posture. Thighs that are forever free of chub-rub.  Shoulders that have had an enormous weight lifted from them. (And I’m not talking from the weight loss, either.) I see a woman who is confident in herself for the first time.

I parked my car, walked into the store, and came out to find my old keys fit a brand new car.

And now, it’s time to start really seeing what this baby can do.