The Headcase gets a Headshot

Headshots. Nothing strikes more fear into this woman than that word. A picture, that is supposed to be the best possible representation of your face, to be plastered on everything that you give away to potential publishers, editors, and agents. Hardly a small matter. And so, our story begins.


My husband took the last round of headshots about 6 years ago. Back before I had wrinkles and bags under my eyes. Before my son learned to talk and tell people at church “I eat danger for breakfast.” Yes, my face has matured over the last few years, and it was time to update the headshot. Especially when preparing for SheSpeaks. You all understand, faithful readers that you are, that the body is transitioning, but I’m not entirely ready to share the true Charlie with the world. With you guys, it’s fine. After all, we have been through a lot together. We are like family. Sort of. Anyhoo, I can show you what I look like because you have seen the BEFORES. Someone else who has no idea what my journey has been like can’t appreciate the less fuller body of one scatterbrained emerging author. So in usual Charlie form, I panicked.


Matt was going to take them, but we no longer have the lighting props that we need to really take a professional quality picture, and by the time he gets off work daylight is fading, causing shadows to emerge. No one likes shadows on her baggy undereyes, which only adds insult to injury. One of my friends and classmates, Theresa, offered to take the headshots for me. She has a side hobby of photographing weddings, so I was in good hands with her.


As for my own hands…not so good. For starters, remember that zit on my chin I talked about in “Charlie the Kid Sticks it to Yoga” on July 5th? Yeah, it is July 23rd that zit is still on my chin. Plus another one is orbiting the mother zit just to the right. Yes, I know that is what photoshop is for. But still, it worries me. The conference is in 6 days and I am still carrying a double chin of the close encounters kind. It is amazing how much makeup one can pile on a chin, to the inch factor. Was it still there? Yes, but it was blended nicely. It almost looked like a beauty mark that was flesh colored.


Then there is the issue of a clean bra. Why a clean bra for a picture you ask? Ah, for the simple fact of something that plagues blessed women everywhere. It was hot and I wasn’t going to risk a case of “Swamp Boob.”


Swamp boob is a condition that is caused by sweaty undersides of your girls that rub against a bra, creating the stories that friction is made of. It leads to rashes, breakouts (yes, zits on your ti…um, boobs) and of course a funky smell that can only be described as GROSS. By wearing a clean bra each and every day, one can avoid swamp boob, and can also keep it at bay by applying deodorant under each one and around the band area of your bra.


So in searching for a clean bra, I realized that I am weeks behind on laundry. It has taken a back seat to writing and homework. The only clean bra was my black “date night push up” that gives me cleavage up to my chin. Ahem. Chins. Granted, I was taking a headshot, but inevitably, the chest area would have to be documented, and looking like a big breasted hooker is not the image one needs to portray when trying to become a Christian author. Oh, well, at least it would draw attention away from my massive zit.


With pushup in hand, I went to the bathroom to apply deodorant to the bra and pit areas. When I started to put it on, it broke, fell out of the container, and all over the bathroom sink. Which had toothpaste glopped in it from the kids, leaving the deodorant crumbles un-usable. My only other option was Speed Stick for men. Considering my level of desperation at that moment, I was counting my blessings that the pictures were not scratch and sniff. Slapping on the speed stick, and feeling like a sexy man, I grabbed the pushup and began the arduous task of getting into my bra.


I am old school when it comes to wrestling the girls in their harness. I begin by turning the bra inside out, and putting the cups on my lower back, hooking it near my belly button. Then I slide it around, cups facing front, and pull it up into the correct position, lifting and tucking and yanking to get the girls settled in. I’m sure if you are a woman, you have used this method at least once in your life. You understand. If you are a man, you have already quit reading by this point, so no further explanation is needed. It was during this process of lifting, tucking and yanking that the unthinkable happened. I snapped a strap.


Not only did I snap a strap, but the strap, which was under a tremendous amount of pressure, snapped with such force that it flew up and hit my already baggy undereye. Which proceeded to water and sting like a “mother scratcher.” (I don’t like to swear. Alternate words are far more fun anyway!) Which made my mascara run like Alice Cooper, which ruined the perfect finish on my blush which ruined my base, which destroyed the house that Jack built. And I was back to square one. With 20 minutes before I was to go meet Theresa.


Trying to thread a needle with one eye watery is next to impossible. So instead of messing with it, I decided to grab the beige “date night push up” that was also clean. Which meant that the outfit I had chosen would no longer work, and I needed to adjust the wardrobe. While applying makeup, I was also ironing my favorite white dress with the little black polka dots. As I smoothed the skirt to iron it, I forgot I had just put on concealer with my finger, and put a lovely spot of Light/Fair on the middle of the skirt. In panic mode, I grabbed the Clorox bleach pen, and hit the spot as fast as I could. Which caused the black polka dots to disappear.


There I was, applying mascara with one hand, and using a Sharpie marker to re-polka dot the dress with the other, and cleavage up to my chins. A fantastic start to my authorial debut.


Over all, Theresa did an amazing job with the pictures, considering what she had to work with. And if you look closely at the final shot, you can see that one eye has a bag under it that is bigger than the other. You can also see the mound on my chin. Flesh colored it is, but a mound none the less. Sigh. I am a mess. A holy mess, but still, a mess of epic porportions.


Who knew that getting a headshot would be such a headtrip?

I have Confidence?

In keeping with the preparations for my big conference in 11 days, I want to continue on a similar vein of thought as the last blog: personal introspection. You see, as I have been blogging and writing and exercising and dieting, this whole time something big has been changing in me. I am still figuring this one out, but I am learning something I never realized before. It is time for me to stop buying in to the “fat chick syndrome,” and I think this in an important step that we all need to do. Perhaps I should explain…


Fat Chick Syndrome: (Noun) (Entirely made up by me, of course) The chronic idea that we are less capable than other women, even though technically we are more. (Sometimes according to the scale- substantially more!) This plagues women of any shape, and is dependent upon who they are standing next to at any particular moment. It dwarfs any compelling attributes a girl might possess (brains, talent, skill, etc.) and zones in on the size of her thighs, buttocks, and post pregnancy belly that never bounced back, leading to instant meltdown of mental capacities and often crying while running to the bathroom to compose one’s self. This syndrome is highly volatile, and when mixed with PMS can be deadly to anyone standing close or within cellular signal range. FCS can lead to loss of dreams and/or hope, and lack of self-esteem. Side effects may include ravenous cravings for chocolate, Twinkies, and ice cream directly from the carton, and could lead to weight gain, which does nothing but only frustrate the problem further.


Now, this is the dilemma. I am supposed to walk into a conference with 575 other women, be myself, and be confident. Mathematically this is utterly impossible. Standing next to a size 4 (who probably ate a pound of bacon for breakfast) immediately causes me to feel that I am less of a woman. So am I less capable because of what I look like?


The idea of body image has been so engrained into our psyches from an early age that it's pathetic. Let’s take a look at the toys we played with as children. Like Barbie. You may have read this before, but if Barbie was a real girl, and not a doll, she would be 5ft9, and have bust-waist-hip measurements of 36-18-33.* On a side note, she would not have enough fat in her body for periods, so there’s a bonus with no strings attached (groan), but over all, this is a ridiculous image that we give girls from the time they are 3. We all have bought into this lie, that Barbie’s are the pretty ones. They can have fat friends, but Barbie gets the dream car, the dream house, the dream guy…you get the idea.


A few years ago, the movie Hairspray came out, and just like every teen sensation movie, dolls were made for the masses. The main character is Tracey Turnblad, who is a heavy set girl like the majority of us. And her doll was manufactured accordingly. As you may expect, these Tracey dolls, plump and plastic, ended up on the clearance rack at your local Walmart. Why? Because nobody plays with the fat girl.


So this is the stereotype we are facing. Even now, 55 pounds smaller, I had a woman, bigger than me, who overheard me talking in an office one day last week. I was sharing about the blog, and made the comment that I was the pied piper of fat chicks everywhere. She immediately looked me up one side and down the other, then asked, “Yeah, but what do you consider fat? You aren’t fat at all!” And her Fat Girl Syndrome kicked in.


Immediately, I whipped out before pictures and smoothed it over, showing her I was once fat myself, and really am mentally still a fat girl, because as long as there is a place called Hollywood, I will always be bigger than someone. And chances are someone will be bigger than me. And we will always struggle with feeling inferior.


I am not going to look at the spiritual side of confidence at the moment. I may save that for another blog entirely, but Isaiah 32:17, Jeremiah 17:7, and especially 2 Corinthians 3:3–5 have wonderful truths about having confidence in the Lord. I hope that if you are curious about them, you will seek these scriptures out and discover the confidence one can have in the Lord.I know full well that I indeed have that confidence in the Lord and His plan for my life. There is no shred of doubt about that.

What I don’t have is confidence in is myself. I have this wonderful self destructive nature that thwarts any plans laid out before me. And I owe it all to Fat Girl Syndrome.


How can one overcome this awful affliction that we so quickly pick up? Inferiority is a complex beast, and we will never please everyone. It’s just not going to happen. However, with some careful observation, we will see that this syndrome gives us a distinct advantage over those we are standing next to.


I don’t know about you, but having been a lifelong fatty, I have really had to work hard on my skills, talents, etc. to overcome the competition. (Please note, the girls I am going to the conference with are not my competition. They are sweet sisters in Christ that I cannot wait to get my hands on and hug and love, just like I do all of you! This is not a game to be played, but real lives and feelings we are talking about) That being said, my confidence can be found in this way. THEY ALL FEEL THE SAME WAY. Every woman feels inferior when surrounded by other girls. It is our nature.


So, instead of shirking away from the fact that we are all scared out of our wits that someone is better than us, I say: LET’S EMBRACE IT! Let’s learn from one another. Instead of ending up in the gossip trap where we tear apart the other’s hair style, outfit choice, or various other outside characteristics, we- as a collective group of women- must commit to building one another up. Being transparent and honest. We need to be real.


Because the reality is that I will not be the most talented girl in the room. I will not be the most funny person there. I won’t be the thinnest or the prettiest. But I will be the only girl named Charlie with a blog about her huge butt and how she is shrinking it. I will be the only one there with a manuscript called “My Thinking Cap Ran out of Batteries” that discusses the implications on my faith when Tim took a carton of ice cream to pre-school in his backpack. No one else can do those things. Fat or not, I’m bringing something besides junk food to the table.


My plan of action is to find a woman who is hiding in the corner at the conference, or running to the bathroom with tears streaming down her face because of Fat Girl Syndrome, and help her feel confident again. I will talk, laugh and pray with anyone that looks like they need a friend or a kind word. I will remember it is only by the grace of God that I have been able to overcome the syndrome myself, and maybe I’ll get to tell my story to a woman who has lost her hope. Whose dreams are slipping through her fingers. Who has given up, just like me a year ago.


Confidence has nothing to do with our size. It has everything to do with our willingness to go the extra mile and show a sister a little compassion. To be a friend. Not a Polly Esther kind of friend, but a real breathing person who takes your hand and reminds you that you aren’t alone.


So beat that, Barbie.


*Sources-
Lord, M.G. Forever Barbie: The Unauthorized Biography of a Real Doll. New York: William Morrow and Company, Inc., 1994.
O’Sickey, Ingeborg Majer. “Barbie Magazine and the Aesthetic Commodification of Girls’ Bodies.” On Fashion. Ed. Shari Benstock and Suzanne Ferriss. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1994.

She Diets and She Speaks

Many of you who follow me on FaceBook know that I have been preparing for my conference called “SheSpeaks.” You may even recall that I wrote a blog entry to try and get a scholarship for this conference (Post entitled Scholarships, Walls, and Tampons- A Very Charlie Message). I didn’t win the scholarship, but was still able to squeak out the registration fee and am leaving for the conference which is being held in North Carolina in a mere 13 days.


SheSpeaks offers me a chance to do what I love doing- hone my writing and speaking skills so I can be more effective when I have the opportunity to reach out to other women. It has been a whirlwind of preparation these past couple of days, and the preparations are far from over, but I wanted to take a few minutes and talk to you about some of the issues I have been grappling with as I get ready to put myself out there in front of speaker evaluators, publishers, and literary agents. This is big stuff, folks, and it is a huge deal for me. Anything that is a huge deal to me means that you get to be a part of it. I am committed to taking you with me on my journey, wherever it leads. And for those of you who just read for diet ideas and help, stick with me. I am going to talk about my faith in this one, but trust me, it is all connected.


So we shall look at this whole thing and see if we can’t work out some of the insecurities that I am facing. Don’t you feel privileged to be in my inner circle? Here we go. Brace yourself for a whole lot of ugly, folks.


I am NOT like other women. This may come as quite a shock to you all, but I am extremely unconventional. (I feel shocked!) I also fall into the category of wacky, unconformist, and well, just plain Charlie. I would like to say that I don’t care what others think about me, but in reality- I do. I have suffered from very low self esteem in the past, and continue to struggle with that even now. To a much lesser degree of course, but even so- I am not the sweet darling little Christian girl who talks about love and rainbows and happy stories about angels. I am the woman who has been saved from hell and herself by the skin of her teeth, who is honest and real about her catastrophic life and decisions. I continue to make God call me His “Little Wild Child.”


For those of you out there who maybe don’t know Christ, or know Him because of the healing blood He poured out, this lack of “religiocity” may be quite comforting. You aren’t going to get lectures from me about the need for Christ in your life. What you will get is a darn good story about the radical changes that Christ can do in your life from a firsthand perspective. And I’ll probably say “crap” at least once during the talk. It’s not going to be a churchy message, but I promise it will be a message you will remember forever, and in your darkest hour, you may recall that I was once in the pit where you are and told you how I got out. That is my prayer.


Now, not every good Christian girl can or will embrace my method of preaching. And that is a huge concern for me. In the past, I would have become the chameleon, the person who morphs her message to appease the church crowd. Tweeked her message to fit in. I would have dressed up the JC Penny collection to look more like I belong to Rodeo Drive.


This is where you all come in.


One of the greatest gifts I have received from our bloggy relationship is that I have learned the power of gut wrenching honesty. The hardest thing I have done lately was to start giving you real numbers about what I weigh, and as you may recall, the number wasn’t under 199. Friends, family, and even old friends from high school read this blog, and it was one of the scariest moves I made. But the reception I received far outweighed what I weigh. I found that you all became closer to me, you related, and you accepted. In fact, after my bold move of being real and transparent, my numbers of readers actually went up. (BTW, here’s a shout of love to my readers in Lexington KY! You all know who you are!!!)


My goal at this conference is not to become who I am not, but to embrace who I am. I am not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, and that is fine with me. That doesn’t mean that I should change anything about me or my message. God didn’t give me another person’s story to tell. He gave me the message of how I was an obstinate girl who ran away while He stayed hot on my trail chasing me down. (What an awesome love story!) I intend to stay true to that story. Maybe it’s a good thing I am NOT like other women. How fun would that be, anyway?


Now, another thing I am stressing over is the fact that I didn’t hit my goal for July yet. I am 183.6 today. I am 3.4 pounds and 14 days away from the end of July, when I wanted to be in the land of the 170s. After reading the last blog, I know my tendency is to drop 9 in 2 weeks and then get stuck. But I have been slacking a little on the exercising lately. I’ve still been walking 5 miles a week, but I have not been going the “extra mile” like I should be. I really need to push myself, but I have been justifying it because I’m so gosh darn busy right now. I need to balance getting ready for this conference and making sure I stay true to the weight loss, which is not a selfish thing at all. Losing weight was something God asked me to do at the beginning of the year.

Many of you have heard this story already, but God asked me to lose the weight because He said “It can’t go where I want to take you. No one will believe that I am King of your life when it looks like you only serve Ben and Jerry’s.” No, God didn’t SPEAK those words out loud, but it was the whisper of my heart. I think this is what’s different about dieting now and why I am finding success. This is about more than fitting into a size 8 for me. It’s about trusting God to work in my life on something I could NEVER EVER do on my own. Learning to let go of what I considered normal (fast food, donuts, cookies) and letting a new normal come over me (fruit, veggies, whole grains) and embracing the adventure of change.


Something I am going to be very careful of is what I eat at the conference, and finding time to exercise. I am taking the staple (Fat Girl Yoga DVD for the mornings) and will see if any of the other girls want to walk at night. (Maybe I can start some satellite OSCBB walking groups and send them out across the country. Coming soon to a city near you!) One of the hilarious parts of this whole trip is that we had the option of putting our blog name under our own for the nametags. Of course, that made me giggle and snort, because having the words Operation Shrink Charlie’s Big Butt below my own is hilarious. And helpful. I’m counting on girls to watch me as I fill my plate at meal time, and question me on my choices. Accountability abounds!


And finally, as you all remember, my goal at 175 is to quit smoking. That has been the plan for 7 months now, and I am almost there. But not yet. Instead of pushing myself to hurry the process along, and quit before I go so I am thoroughly a wreck, I have opted to go as I am, Camel Menthol Lites and all, and enjoy the conference instead of going through nicotine detox while trying to be professional. I will take a patch to cut down on the day time breaks, but at night, this is still who I am. I am praying that these wonderful girls will understand, and support the fact I am working on food first, smokes second. If they don’t, I’m sure they will let me know. But I am open about it, am not going to hide it, and am secretly hoping I will find one other closet smoker in the group. (Horrible, I know, but still…everyone needs a buddy.) (If you are going to the conference and are a secret smoker, email me ;) God isn’t coming down on me about it right now, and I am on tenterhooks that my conference mates won’t either. One major change at a time is more than enough to handle. And when I go back next year, I won’t be smoking. Or fat. Cause I’ll be at goal. And that is way under 175. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it!


SO that’s the stuff on my mind at the moment. A lot to try and chew on, but what else is new? I feel better when I get all my insecurities out in the open, because then I’m not hiding anything. If you are a person who prays, I would like to ask that you pray for me about these things: That I stay true to the person God made me to be and don’t give in to peer pressure of conformity, that I make healthy choices about food and exercise while I am there, that I won’t worry about the smoking for now, and I will be accepted for who I am at the moment and not have to feel like a leper.


On a positive note, I was really freaking about the clothes I would wear to the conference, but not for the reason you might think. We are supposed to dress “business casual” which poses a HUGE problem for me. Uh, all my business clothes are a size 24 or 26. I am much smaller than that now, and am not exaggerating when I say I had NOTHING to wear. And I can’t go in the buff and have all my tattoos showing, now can I? So I looked on a few clearance racks at the mall where a group of us OSCBB Danville girls walk, and would you believe I got 3 outfits for $40! Enough to last me the whole weekend! AND (wait for it) they were all in the Junior sections, and are either a junior XL or a size 14. Everything fits! And they are cute! The whole wardrobe was found in 20 minutes, so don’t think I was obsessing about what I should wear. I just needed something! But the options I found scream “Charlie” and I couldn’t be happier about it! Tonight I’ll have Matt take a current picture of me and let you see one of them. But I was totally excited that it all fell in my lap. What a great God thing to happen to a rock and roll girl like me.


I hope that you have enjoyed delving into another segment of “Charlie’s neurosis.” See, I am just like you! (Well, maybe different in some ways, but remember- all of us, even the skinnys, have issues.) What do you guys struggle with? I’m curious, and frankly, I don’t like feeling alone. Post something you struggle with on the comments. I bet that you aren’t alone either!

Still shrinking and stressing-
Your ole’ pal Charlie

The Weighting Game

OK, after almost 10 months of watching the scale, I once again am stuck. Sure, we could blame horror-moans, cheating, Twinkies, the Cracker Barrel, or a host of other things. But we won’t. I’m not even going to whine! (Well, maybe a little, but I will be subtle about it.) Today, we are going to explore 2 very different takes on plateaus, and how we can overcome them.

First we are going to look at the magical numbers of 4, 5, and 6. Your numbers might be different than mine, but everyone has 3 numbers. No, this isn’t numerology (sorry, John Travolta). These 3 numbers represent a place on the scale that my body hits and wants to stay. Yup, as if my period isn’t enough, I have yet another cycle to endure. The Weight Cycle.

I have no science or medical opinion to back me up on this whatsoever. And I’m not going to claim that I know everything about it. I’m just a 3rd party telling you what I have observed in my own diet life, and I bet you good money (or a lovely Crème Brule) that you have experienced it too. Here is what happens:

I hit 215. I spend the next 3 weeks to a month bouncing up and down between 214 and 216. I finally move past it, and I drop the next 9 pounds in 2 weeks. Then I hit 205. I do the same thing, moving between 204 and 206, struggling for almost a month, and dropping another 9 pounds in 2 weeks. I did the same thing at 195, exact same cycle, and now I am doing it again with 184-186. I saw 184.0 twice this month, then watched it billow back up to 186 point whatever.

I have a couple of choices here. First of all, this is what my body does. Although it is rather frustrating and annoying, I can embrace that my body loses about 10 pounds in 6 weeks. Then I go through the cycle all over again. I write about being stuck when I can’t take it anymore, and about that time I move into the next 10 pounds. I always attributed it to the blog, and that there was some type of mental release that happened and I broke through the plateau.

After a quick conversation from a weight loss guru today (she is a leader of a particular group, but I won’t name which cause this dieter doesn’t play favorites till I get some cash)(but this gal is fantastic!!!) I realized that I go through this every time I hit the numbers of 4, 5 and 6. Honest to goodness, gals, I experienced such a crazy sense of release about it! Maybe these plateaus aren’t due to my own inadequacies as a dieter. This is just another part of the dieting period we talked about a few weeks ago. And as long as I realize that’s what it is, I’ll be ok. I don't have to beat myself up or only eat broccoli for a week to overcome it. I need to ride the natural wave that my body goes through, and wait excitedly for the next 6 weeks to begin!

OK, there’s the first observation of plateaus. Completely rational and biologically sound, proven by the nature of the blogs that I write. (Seriously, feel free to look back and check the dates. It was freaky how I was diet cycling and didn’t even know it!) Now we move into the next phase of getting stuck, and I bet that we can all relate to this one too.

It’s about getting too comfortable. Here’s how it works:

You lose a bunch of weight, and although you aren’t close to your goal, people begin to notice. They tell you how great you look, and you feel fantastic. You feel so good, in fact, that one day of cheating won’t kill you. After all, you have looked in the mirror, and you DO look pretty great! And even after that day of cheating, looking in the mirror doesn’t seem to show any difference, so another day of cheating is just fine. Before you know it, a week of cheating has passed and 5 pounds is back. Well, you will work on it next week, right? But before you do, there are just a few more foods you want to indulge in… can I get an amen?

This is a really tricky place to be, and I admit that I am right there. With 52 pounds gone (yeah, I was only at 186 today. Stupid dieting cycle!), I look a lot different. People notice that something is different, and are amazed and proud that I have shrunk. Which is great! I thrive on the accolades of my family, friends, and random strangers who say “Are you the big butt girl I read about?” I love it!!! But that’s exactly the problem, because looking like I do now makes me feel great. What is tough is remembering that I still have more to go, and need to keep pushing. You can’t get comfortable with where you are.

Now, before you all come at me with pitch forks and torches, let me say something here. It is important to ACCEPT yourself, regardless of where you are. You need to find peace with your life, and if you don’t have that peace let me know. I’ll tell you how I got it. Yet there is a huge difference between acceptance and complacency. Acceptance says “I am here, and it’s ok for now.” Complacency says “I am here, and I’m ok with staying here forever.”

When we get full of all the complements and kudos, feeling comfortable and/or complacent isn’t much of a stretch. I often wondered how some people who lost a good amount of weight put it back on before they finished the weight loss journey. I think this is the reason.

So how do we fight that feeling of “this is good enough” that throws us in a tailspin? It is impossible to control what comes out of other people’s mouths, and you certainly appreciate those compliments that keep you going. On the other hand, you don’t want to smash every kind word into bits, or beat yourself up about not being at goal yet. Where is the balance between continued action and comfort?

It is found in the simple act of acceptance. This is who you are today. Yes, it feels really good to be here, but tomorrow, you will be in a new place. It won’t be like today, because you can keep trying for bigger (or smaller) and better things for your life. You aren’t the same person you were when you were 16, right? (I say thank heavens I’m different!) So why should you think that where you are today is the only place you’ll ever want to be? Even when you do hit your goal, there will be doors opened up to you that were once closed. Life is always changing, because we are always changing. Our Creator planned it that way.

I recently wrote a song about my own weight loss journey, and I think the 2nd verse expresses what I mean quite poetically. It says, “I accept enough to say that this is who I am, and I’m brave enough to say it’s time for a change. Even when I fall it forces me to stop and stretch my legs.” I like that part. It gives my moments of failure purpose, and when I can give them purpose and meaning, they aren’t failures at all!

I hope that you all have enjoyed exploring these plateau pains with me, and I hope that they help in your own journey. I love getting all this mess out in the open and hashing things out with you. It really does help me- more than you all probably realize- and your faithful reading keeps me trucking toward me goal and reaching for the 48 pounds I have yet to go.

So don’t be surprised if you see me in public and say “Hey, you’re looking good” if I reply like this: “Thanks! I feel great. But just you wait till you see me 6 months from now. You’ll really be surprised at how much I’ve changed then!”

The only comfortable thing I’ll be wearing for the next 6 months are my yoga pants.

Charlie the Kid Sticks it to Yoga

I don’t know how I do it. Sometimes it’s like I speak a prophetic word over myself. 2 posts ago I mentioned the idea that a skinny girl worries about the underground zit forming in her chin. While I am far from skinny, I now have that zit. Right in the center of my chin. Nice. Just earlier today, I posted a whiny blog about my cheating nature over the weekend, and closed it by telling you that I “will be working extra hard this week to get back on track. Which is a greater probability for something totally ridiculous will happen to me and ya’ll will get the funny blogs you love so much.” I should never have said that because, wouldn’t you know, that I spoke more truth with that sentence than you could possibly believe. Perhaps I should start from the beginning…

So just a couple of hours after I posted the last blog, my neighbor went on a date with her hubby, and we took on her sweet daughter for the evening. Her name is Gabby, but in this house, we call her Fred. Poor thing started out with a bit of a lisp, and couldn’t pronounce her ‘R’s very well. My husband thought it was so adorable, and he called her Fred just to annoy her and hear her say, “I’m not Fwed!” She has since outgrown the lisp, but the Fred remains.

Matt and Tim (our son) went fishing, while Fred and my daughters, Amy- who is 9, and Natalie, who is 8 like Fred, decided they wanted to do Fat Girl Yoga (a video I recommend every dieting woman purchases. Just My Size Yoga. Seriously, it is amazing!) in the living woom. I mean room. Sorry, Fred. As is the custom in our house when doing Fat Girl Yoga, we lit candles, turned the rest of the lights off, and spread out in our dinky living room. Fred and Natalie were in front, Amy and I scrunched against the couches in the back. And away we went.

The first few stretches went with no problems. Fred had never done the yoga before, but my girls were fantastic at encouraging her (bend your leg like this, Fred. There you go! Great job!) but both Fred and Natalie are rather clumsy. It’s adorable, really, because these are 2 girls that really understand each others’ physical limitations. And when one falls down, the other helps her friend up and doesn’t tease at all. It’s a friendship made in heaven for them. There wasn’t much falling down though, because the first 7 minutes are seated stretching. Hard to fall when you are sitting “Cris-cross Applesauce” on the floor. (For those of you over the age of 10, we are no longer to say Indian style because isn’t P.C. to our Native American brethren.) But once we moved into the next phase of Fat Girl Yoga, which was on our hands and knees, there was much falling down and giggling. And that was partly my fault.

Now you all know that I have issues with, uh, gas, but you may not know that I am the type of mother who seizes any opportunity to embarrass her children. So when everyone was stretching with our butts in the air, I let out this teeny tiny toot. Amy, who is practical, was horrified. Natalie, who is a drama queen, fell on the floor because she was sure that is reeked. She was right. And poor Fred, she fell on the floor because Natalie knocked her over. But when she realized her best friend’s mom had ripped one, she laughed and laughed. Finally, we all got our giggles under control and got back to Yoga-ing. We re-assumed the positions with our hind quarters flying high, and maybe it was the all the stretching previously, or maybe it was the pizza from yesterday causing a napalm reaction within, but I swear the next toot was at least 30 seconds long. Natalie, beyond embarrassed, swore she was adopted and I was not her mother, which is hilarious, because she is EXACTLY like me in every way. Right down to the drama and ability to cry in under 5 seconds flat. Fred’s eyes got as big as dinner plates, and she just wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to laugh, but her friends weren’t laughing. How awkward! Amy said nothing at all, mostly because her nose had been closest to the source, and she ran to wash any air germs off of her face. (I told her to face the other way!) I, of course, was laughing to the point of snorting, which was not the best idea because it really was a foul stinker. But I love it when I can embarrass my kids. I only feel bad that Fred was in the crossfire. I bet she will always remember this day.

We all got back to Yoga, and finished the routine without further interruption. It was over, we were all feeling relaxed and stretched (and I felt de-gassed), and it was time to turn the lights back on. The girls all wanted to blow out the candles, which are on top of entertainment center, along with theatre memorabilia, pictures, and our son Tim’s beloved pet cactuses (cacti?) “6 shooter” and “Ole’ Western.” We got them a month ago, and they are in teeny tiny pots. Ole West hangs out in the corner right next to my favorite Caramel Corn scented candle, which we previously lit for Fat Girl Yoga.

I went to pick up the candle so that the girls could blow it out, and the spikes of Ole West must have stuck to the caramel corn wax when I set it back on the shelf before, because as I picked the candle up, Ole West came along too. Then he started to fall. Out of instinct to save Tim’s precious prickler, I tried to catch it by slamming my arm underneath the cactus against the side of the entertainment center. My depth perception must have been off, because Ole’ Western, still in his humble pot, ended up stabbing the side of my right arm with brute force, leaving 20 or so spines stuck deep my arm while still attached to Ole’ Western.

In a split second (and unwise) decision, my left hand automatically shot over to the right arm, grabbing the cactus to get it off, which caused another 5 of nature’s needles to be inserted into my left fingers. Finally, common sense came back, and I gently moved my right arm and left hand to let the cactus roll off of me. Thankfully it took the spikes with it. Unfortunately, Ole’ Western bit the bullet, and broke in half when he hit the back of the TV. Turns out he was rotten on the inside, which quite frankly explains his erratic and evil behavior. Even so, he is still fighting. He’s lying behind our television, where my darling husband is doing some fishing trying to retrieve the stupid thing, trying to avoid getting stuck himself.

I find it ironic that some of my best and funniest blogs end with a description of me taking 4 advil and having a diet coke. Tonight, I suppose I needed to shake things up, because I had 3 benadryl and some diet lemonade. My arm is sitting on a frozen bag of peas, and the swelling isn’t too bad. But my arm is sooooooo sore!

I had to break the news that I was unable to save Ole Western to Tim. I was preparing myself to have a memorial service complete with Cowboy hats in honor of the cactus that I tried so desperately to save from its doom. I don’t know if I was relieved or annoyed when I told Tim that Ole’ Western bit the dust, and he responded,


“Who’s Ole’ Western?”

Independence Days from the Diet

So it sounded like a good idea at the time, taking one weekend off from my veggies and fruit, and living it up on my plate. After 2 days of not calorie counting and eating whatever I wanted, I was shocked to see 189 on my scale this morning. Yep, that means I am back to losing only 49 pounds. OUCH!

I figure that most of us spent the weekend celebrating the 4th with barbeques, cookouts, and potlucks. (At least those of you readers who are in the States.) And for those of us who are fighting the battle of the bulge, it leads to a sorrowful morning after when we assess the damage on the scale. Here’s the rundown of my weekend.

I started getting lazy on Friday, which was my darling husband’s day off. We splurged a little, and I thought one night wouldn’t hurt so bad. With gusto and resolve, I was determined to be a dieting superstar on the 4th, and show off my new healthy eating skills. I did great on Saturday at lunch, chowing down on fruit salad and a turkey dog. But then I was presented with pizza as an impromptu meal on Saturday evening. Pizza, like French fries and Oreos, is a weakness for me, and instead of asking my sister-in-law if I could raid her fridge for something healthy, I snarfed it down. Since I’d already blown it, I added some potato chips. From that point on, the rest of my food choices resembled something like a dieter’s rap sheet, or the temptation locker on the Biggest Loser. Yep, I kept right on eating.

And this morning, all I could do when I saw 189 was say, “I guess I earned that” and do my best to ignore the leftover peach pie and patriotic cupcakes in the fridge.

Now, we have got to figure out how to survive holidays, because they come around often. When you figure up all the holidays we celebrate in America, there are 10 biggies, not to mention birthdays, anniversaries, vacations, etc…and we celebrate all of them with food!!! And at least 3 of them with candy! So we have got to get a game plan together before we all have a diet busting holiday again! Here are my thoughts. Mind you, I followed NONE of them this weekend, and was a horrible example. But this is how we learn, right?

1. I hate this one. Eat your healthy stuff before an event. Fill yourself up with good food so you aren’t tempted to graze during a party. This one works well if you are going to a shindig that is short and sweet. If it’s going to last longer than 3 hours, don’t count on your low-fat cheese and yogurt to hold you. But it’s a great plan for birthday parties and open-houses.

2. Bring a healthy alternative to share with the group. Forget the veggie plate, make something exquisite that will cause a pile up at the food table! You can look on websites for fantastic appetizers, look like a real Martha Stewart, AND stick to your diet. You can’t lose on this one!

3. PACK YOUR FOOD. I mentioned this in the last posting about my red lunch bag. Unglamourous? Yes, very much so. Unreasonable? Not at all! My husband’s family did a great job of providing a very sensible meal for lunch time. Which was fantastic. But it would have been rude of me to expect the same for supper. Looking back, it should have been second nature to pack some extra nutrition for the day. I was just being blonde I suppose, but I honestly didn’t worry about it. And today, the scale made me pay the price. Packing things high in fiber like nuts, apples, and even my fav, Fiber One granola bars, will keep you feeling fuller longer, and can last you till you get home.

4. In a situation like I was in with pizza, ask if you can order a healthy alternative and pay for it yourself. I could have ordered a small whole grain Hawaiian pizza with less cheese, and it would have been better than a double meat double cheese double my serving pizza. But I didn’t do that either.


I hope that these ideas help. Do you have some of your own that have helped you in sticky wickets like parties and BBQs? Feel free to post them on the comments below, so other people can read how YOU are staying true to your diet. Heaven knows I sure blew it, and will be working extra hard this week to get back on track.

Which is a greater probability for something totally ridiculous will happen to me and ya’ll will get the funny blogs you love so much. Until then, I’ll be working off my 4th of July fluff on the highest incline my treadmill will go, and marching to my own particular brand of freedom!

The Suckage Factor of Dieting

It’s official. Dieting sucks. There’s no way to get around this awful truth. Carrot sticks cannot replace carrot cake. Apple slices cannot replace French fries, no matter how cute the packaging. An hour of aerobics doesn’t feel nearly as good as an hour of watching TV, or taking a nap. Dieting hurts!

And yet- does it hurt as bad as having to shop in a specialty store where they overcharge you for clothing that resembles brightly colored moo-moos? Is it as painful as buying a bra that looks like a pup tent, only to see yourself in the 3 way mirror and discover your back has better cleavage than your front? Is dieting really harder than being fat in a world built for scrawny people?

One of the most important things we fat girls need to understand is the skinny ones have issues too. Trust me, that is one place the scale is equal. All the insecurities that you may feel are shared by the girl wearing a size 2. You are worried about cottage cheese on your rear, they are worried about the underground zit that they feel forming on their chin. You see the belly jelly or muffin top you are sporting under your clothes, they see a crooked tooth or a lazy eye that mascara can’t hide. Your issues have nothing to do with your weight. Not really. It isn’t helped by the extra pounds that you and I have, but if the weight wasn’t there, I guarantee we would find something else to freak out about.

So go with me here for a minute. What if….we are making a bigger deal out of losing weight than it really needs to be? I know, I know, this is the queen of big deals and drama suggesting such a radical notion. I make mountains out of molehills every single day. In fact, 3 days ago, I emailed a friend who I hadn’t talked to for 2 weeks and asked her if she was throwing away our friendship. Her emailed response was “Woman, are you on your period?” I actually was, so I figured I was being overemotional about the whole thing.

Which is exactly what has happened to me on this weight loss journey. 6 months ago, I nearly collapsed at the idea of not eating cookies, and drinking diet soda instead of regular. I never could have imagined bringing my own food to a family function or restaurant. And heaven forbid I could ever get through a mile on the elliptical machine! I was angry, bloated, and after every 10 minutes of exercise, a new undiscovered muscle in my body cramped.

I was on my dieting period.

Because here I am, 6 months later, telling you (and myself) that we can do this. I am losing, shrinking, and haven’t forgotten to laugh along the way, or share it with you. I am enduring a pre-workout before I walk with the official “Operation Shrink Charlie’s Big Butt Walking Group,” which pounds the pavement for over 2 miles. They make fun of me, and I love every jib and jab they throw! And sisters, I don’t care what kinds of dirty looks I get from waitresses when I pull out my bright red lunch bag, start opening all my food from home, and ask them for a glass of water and a plate! (But I ALWAYS tip them like I had eaten a meal there. Dieting is NO excuse to be cheap!) Sure, I had to endure some rough moments there in the beginning. And the middle. And even today, I am trying to smother a craving for ice cream in this blasted heat! But I know what I can accomplish- if I stand determined, eat determined, and exercise determined!

One of the best things about this blog is that it has allowed me to grow into my newfound courage and openness about my weight, and more importantly- out of my old clothes. It’s really awesome when I am able to squeek into a new size, now hitting ones I have never fit into as an adult, and see how well it fits me. But better still is the pair of size 26 shorts that I STILL wear once a week, falling off of me, and reminding me that all the frustration I packed around before is falling off of me to. Dieting sucks. It hurts. Sometimes it feels like pure agony. But so was wearing those shorts last year when they fit me. Now, I hold on to them, keeping them up, reminding me that other women are wearing my old shorts too.

Maybe it’s you. Maybe you can’t breathe in the shorts you are wearing right now. Maybe you are sick and tired of the dieting cycle and want to make a break for it. Maybe you are needing that push to give you hope again that it can work.

Well, consider this your push. It can work. It will work. But it won’t happen if you don’t push, or work, or pour yourself into the dieting adventure just one more time. I love playing the lottery. Yeah, maybe it’s gambling, but I always do stuff I probably shouldn’t be doing. Anyhoo, the tag for the Illinois lottery is “Somebody’s gonna lotto. It might as well be YOU!” I love that saying! You don’t know what you can do if you don’t try. You won’t win the golden ticket if you don’t buy the Willy Wonka chocolate bar! (WAIT! THAT IS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE TO MY MESSSAGE! DON’T BUY A CANDY BAR!)

My point is this. If you are stuck on your dieting period, and are scared to give it another chance, then you are in the right place. Consider this your new home. I’m not going to sell you anything. In fact, I do all of this without making a dime (but am open to suggestions)! My goal is not to receive riches and new cars by extorting you. Nope, I just want to help get you out of those tight shorts you are miserable in and find you something even better to wear. Something that brings out who you really are.

Like with me, for instance. I was always the fat friend. I was the plump bridesmaid. The girl that just needed to lose some weight because she had a really pretty face. Yep. That was me before. Now, I am leading the weight loss band. I am using the inspiration I have found along the way and passing it on to you. I am unafraid to say that dieting is tough, but totally worth it. I am over half way to goal, 48 pounds to go, and am going to take you on my journey as I venture into new territory.

Consider me the Pied Piper of fat chicks everywhere.
I couldn’t be happier about it! So, who's in?

Celebrating the big 5-0!

As usual, I am running late with a big announcement. Seems whenever I am running late, however, Mother Nature is right on time. Sigh. Somedays I can't stand being a girl!

So I hit my halfway mark! 50 pounds! It was an exciting weekend, and Matt and I celebrated in high style. Our anniversary happens to be today, so we used the weekend to celebrate both events, even though we used the weekend before to celebrate our nuptials early. We went to O’Learys (a restaurant with a sneeze guarded salad bar for $7.95), both in our stinky work out clothes, me with no makeup on and hair in an erratic ponytail. It was exciting. We then came home and watched a string of 5 movies over the next 24 hours. Pretty classy stuff that we do here in the armpit of the Midwest!

Now I am on the final countdown of my weight loss journey. I am currently at 187, and have another 49 pounds left. I have gleaned from other successful weight losers that this is when it gets tough, because your body has less to lose. Well, crap. As if the first 50 wasn’t hard enough!!!

I figured that since you all have been with me so far, and rallied around me for my process, I should share some of the goals I have set for the next 50 pounds and some milestones along the way. So here they are, and I hope that you enjoy reading some of them!

Goal for July- Reach the land of 170, I don’t really care if it’s only 179.9, I want to see that number!

Goal at 175- OK, this is a huge one for me. At 175, I have to put down my Camel Menthol lites. Yep, I’m a smoker. Have been for several years. Some of you probably smelled that coming a mile away. Haha. When I started to really diet on Jan 1st, I tried to diet and quit. Jan 2nd I decided it was one or the other. And the diet won, because I couldn’t bend over to tie my shoes. For those of you who are wondering and want to help, these are the rules when I get to 175 and give up my bad habit. 1) I will let you know when it is happening so that you can duck for cover. 2) Please don’t tell me that someone you know died of a smoking induced illness- I watched my grandfather die of COPD 4 years ago. I know what it does. It doesn’t make the process any easier to be depressed too. It makes me want to smoke more. 3) I will be patching it for the first month. If you see me, feel free to do smell checks and a visual confirmation that I am wearing it. 4) If you have never smoked before, please don’t “encourage” me with words like “It smells awful and tastes bad. Why would you want to do that anyway?” If you haven’t lit up before and stuck with it, you have no idea what a beast of a habit it is to get rid of. 5) PRAY PRAY PRAY! Losing the weight was something I found success in because I gave it to God and had others praying for me as well. Quitting smoking will take even more prayer and kind support. 6) Ask me if I cheated and smoked. After I answer, ask me if I was lying to you. I can’t lie twice in a row without crying or looking EXTREMELY GUILTY. I have a bad poker face about it.

Goal for August- Fit into my goal jeans, which are a size 11/12. This is pretty big of me to want, because I can’t comfortably squeeze into a 14 yet. But those jeans will fit me by the end of August. Even if I can’t breathe when I wear them! They will button and zip!

Goal for September- Reach the land of the 160s. I have not been in the 160s for more than a week in my adult life. It’s going to be a huge deal for me. I’ve bounced around in the 170s to the 190’s for years, including college. So for me to consistently stay within that range and keep losing will be beyond my wildest dreams!

Goal for October- To learn to run a mile without having to stop and take a breather.

The rest of the goals we will discuss as it gets closer to time, but here they are without commentary.

Goal for November- To hit the land of 150s.

Goal for December- Stay in the 150’s, and possibly hit the 140’s.

Goal for January 2010- Be in the 140’s and getting close to the end.

Goal for Valentine’s Day 2010- Hit the 100 pound mark and be 138 at which point I will buy a bikini and take a cruise with my husband. Va-va-voom! Unless we take the kids too. Then there won’t be much vooming going on!

So there you have it! This is my weight loss to do list, and it’s pretty exciting! I may have to adjust the time line, if necessary. However, the plan, regardless of how long it takes, is set in stone. Tonight, I will have my husband take current pics of me and get them posted so you can see my progress thus far. But as it stands, I weigh 5 pounds less than I did 3 years ago, when Matt and I got married. I also weigh less than I did in 2005, which is pretty amazing to me. All of this has been a long road, lots of sacrifices, and hard work. But I know you are all watching me, and I promise to do everything I can not to let you down! No magic pills, no anorexic or bulimic tricks. Simply diet, exercise, and determination that just doesn’t quit. I hope that you’ll keep sticking with me as I continue on my journey, and say “I knew her when she was fat!” I know some of my postings are more serious, but it’s all an important part of the process. You get to read the heavy stuff because I am not the only one who has gone through it. Or is going through it. I want you to know that no matter what your own journey looks like, you are never alone!

OK, I’m off to the YMCA to tackle the elliptical machine! Maybe today I can make it 20 minutes on the dumb thing. Who knows, maybe something will happen today that will make for yet another great story!

Charlie's Sweaty Balls and the YMCA

On Monday, May 18th, I wrote you all about the issues I have had with losing weight, how I was losing motivation, and needed to step things up a bit. I posted it at 3:15. By 3:25, my sister in law Nikki’s ring tone (What’s New Pussycat by Tom Jones) was crooning away on my cell.

“Hey, are you really serious about losing your weight and going hardcore?”

I swallowed hard. It was a moment of truth- do I really want this enough to work for it, or do I just SAY I want this?

I replied, “Yes. I want this more than anything.”

Nikki answered back, “Good, because I have an idea.”

Now, let me side step for a moment and tell you a bit about Nikki. She is an Army wife of my middle brother, Jason, and I set them up. My other brother Todd is married to my best friend, Julia, so when Jason became available, I set him up with my other "bestie" since I enjoyed the arrangement so much the first time around. Their first date was the day after Thanksgiving, and by Christmas they were engaged. And they both are happy as larks, besides the occasional deployment. They have 4 kids, Nikki runs a daycare, and she is one of the most resourceful women I have ever met. Seriously. Wanna pull America out of a recession? Let Nikki figure stuff out. Hence, she has earned her nickname “Tricky Nikki” because she is always scheming. Back to her idea.

“So here’s the plan. There is this exercise class I want to take at the YMCA. It sounds really good, and I can do it while Jason is still home and can watch the kids.”

OK, a live exercise class. That could be good!

“Sure, sounds like fun! When is it?”

“Well, that’s the only problem. It’s a bit early.”

“HOW EARLY?” (I am not a morning person at all.)

“Um, uh, don’t freak out, OK? It’s at 5:45. AM.”

I did in fact freak out, but I got over it. It worked out the best because I could go to class, and still get the kids to school on time. Plus, Matt was home getting ready for work, so I didn’t have to worry about where to put the kids. It really was a good fit. Added bonus- Nikki promised that she would call me at 5:30 to make sure I was awake. I need a wake up call. I really am not a morning person.

So we started attending the class. We have yet to make it 3 times a week, but even twice a week is still serious commitment to the two of us. Now, this class is called “Wake Up With Fitness.” It is a cross between step aerobics, calisthenics, and torture. But the funny thing is, I am addicted to this class. And although I have been sore many days, it’s pretty much gone off without a hitch.

Until today.

Our teacher Karen is really skinny, really nice, and I like her a lot, except I am a little concerned about her knowledge. She seems to think that Nikki and I are capable of far more than we really are. OK, maybe Nikki can do it. She’s much smaller than me and exercises all the time, even when she isn’t on a diet. But me? I am uncoordinated, ungraceful, lack any upper body strength, and I can’t see the stupid step for the step aerobics because of my boobs. I have to step in blind faith.

In spite of my physical shortcomings, Karen seems determined to help me lose the inches. After all, that’s what she gets paid to do. And she is earning her money with a student like me. Nikki and I call her “Danville’s Jillian Michaels” (the trainer from Biggest Loser) which is a complement in the highest form, because we NEED her torture, and we are grateful to her for pushing us. We really are.

On Friday, she mixes things up a little. Today, she had us pull out a huge exercise ball, a “band” (you have all seen Billy bands, right? They have handles on both ends, and the middle is what nurses tie on your arm when getting blood drawn), a step, hand weights, and a mat. By the time class started, I was already tired! But with Tricky Nikki faithfully by my side, the class began and we were on our way. I heard someone say “I HATE the bands!” but I was too focused on waking up and trying to give 100% of the 80% energy I had. I make up the other 20% later on with coffee.

So we are stretching, getting our heart rate up, and working our thighs and butts. Which is good, because as you may recall, I am trying to shrink that butt. I’d like it to look pretty when it disappears eventually, and that means toning all the muscle underneath the fries and ice cream I was holding on to. After getting us nice and sweaty, Karen/Jillian had us get the big exercise ball and get our legs/thighs/tummies on them and do pushups on the floor while elevated. This is the first time I have been able to do a decent pushup in years. Normally I boob-bounce right back up after barely heading down. But on the ball, it put serious space between the girls and the floor, and those pushups hurt. And made me even more sweaty. Which made the ball sweaty. Yuck.

Then, she told us to get the bands out. We laced the band under our aerobic step, hooked them on our feet, and a new level of agony began. As we lay on top of the step in a pseudo crunch position, our legs were up in the air (with the bands trying to pull them back down) and we had to kick, cycle, and extend our legs. After the first 10 seconds my legs, especially the tops of my thighs were on fire. Not like, “oh, this is a bit uncomfortable to do” type of heat. It was more like “Sweet Jesus, I am coming home to you momentarily, and I’m gonna need you to carry me through the gate because I can’t walk” kind of fire. Either that or the rubber band in the middle was going to melt when it touched the side of my leg, and I’d have to walk around smelling like burnt rubber. At least the sweat pouring off of me extinguished any sparks.

After hours of this band (probably only 3 minutes, really, but it FELT like hours) my legs were beyond the jello stage. And Karen/Jillian was just getting us warmed up. I was WAY ahead of her.

She had us lay on our mats, and hold the exercise ball between our legs as we did crunches. Normally, I sail through the crunches as well as can be expected, although I am still not able to touch my elbows to my knees, because my tummy is so large. But I’m getting closer as the weeks go by. Today, however, with the ball between our legs, crunches turned into explosions as I tried to keep my already jello-ey legs in the air and work the abs. It hurt worse than labor, and you can’t even scream for drugs. You can either give up, or put on your big girl panites with the control top and push.

So I pushed as hard as I could. Laying in a pool of my own sweat, hanging on to a sweaty ball with my perspiring legs in a half spread eagle (we won’t even discuss the problem of crotch sweat. That is another story entirely), clinging to the ball with all my might and trying to enjoy the view of stars I had before me. I started to lose my grip on the ball, so I squeezed even harder. As hard as I could, in fact. That was when physics stepped in.

Now, have you ever tried to hold onto a beach ball under water? It keeps wanting to rise to the top, so you hold on harder? Eventually, your handle on the circumference will be a little off, and the ball shoots up to the surface.

My legs lost the circumference on the ball above my head. The fact that I had been squeezing the ball with all my might made the situation worse. It shot off like a rocket. I would have been more successful holding a greased pig.

Everything happened in slow motion for the next 10 seconds. I saw the ball rising high above me, and veering to the east ever so slightly, heading straight for Nikki’s head. Perhaps the gallons of sweat covering the ball 30 feet in the air changed its course, or perhaps the hasty prayer of “Dear God NO!” reached my Master’s ears, but the ball fell short of Nikki by mere inches. It then began to roll on the floor, blowing every whichaway because of the industrial floor fans blowing, making a sideways rain of the remains of sweat that hadn’t showered on me while the ball was in flight. Nikki realized what had happened and started to break into fits of giggles.

Now, at this point my legs are still up in the air, too cramped to pull them back down, and I am watching the ball roll toward the front of the room, not too far from Karen/Jillian, who was still working the room like the fitness machine she is. After my ball rolled into her view, she did a quick but discrete look around the gym, saw who had lost her ball, and if I could have read her mind, I bet she was thinking that it’s about time she asked a raise. A big fat raise.

Karen/Jillian then hopped off her own ball, got a drink, and began to set up for the next phase. I think that was perhaps for my benefit. I shamefully rolled over on my side to a sideways L, because the legs refused to come down, and was able to finally pull myself to a sitting position, then almost standing. I limped to retrieve my lost ball, now in the VERY front of the gym where everyone could see me. I wondered if anyone else would notice, till I heard my Tricky Nikki sidekick say in a giggly voice, “I am so glad that happened to you, because I was afraid it was going to happen to me too!” So much for anonymity!

Now sitting at home in the comfort of my computer chair that reclines, and feeling the cooling sensation of advil, I feel a bit better. I’m still going to go back on Monday morning, and will give it all I’ve got. But for right now, I’m quite happy to sit here and massage the legs and the ego. I did learn something important today about friendship and exercise. First of all, misery demands company. I wouldn’t be doing nearly as well without Nikki and her encouragement. Thanks Nik.

And Karen/Jillian? I will say thank you by faithfully attending your class. When I am wearing a bikini for the first time in my adult life, I will sing your praises of how you helped mold my skinny body into shape. But for now, please know that we need you and don't give up on us. On me. I can't do that around the world step you do, but my gratitude for what you are putting me through is being broadcast around the world. And next time, warn me about the bands ahead of time. I might be sick that day.

Over all, I realized that friends who sweat together and band together truly have a ball!

And the Winner is....

Feel free to click on the pic to see it without all the grainyness. I am still pale as heck, and the sunlight is doing me no favors. Still, all in all, I felt like the dress was an absolute winner!

Decidedly Unfabulous

Nothing ever happens in real life like it happens in my mind.


I pictured this Saturday going much differently than it has, in light of the huge day of glamour and hoo-hah I was envisioning. I’ve always said it’s a good thing my mother didn’t name me Grace, because I don’t possess a single ounce of it. And that’s the gospel truth.


I’m the kind of girl that trips as she walks down (or up, for that matter) the stairs when everyone is looking. I am the girl who dribbles coffee on her shirt just moments before an important meeting. I’m the classy type who experiences wardrobe malfunctions in the middle of an important event. I’m the bride who had to have her something borrowed be a tampon an hour before her wedding.


More recently, I am the girl who gets the flu right before her big party she has been dreaming about attending since January. Yep. I have the flu.


Those of you who have been tracking me on facebook know about my dilemma. Tim, our son, started getting sick on Tuesday night. I started feeling really icky Thursday afternoon, which led to quality time between me and a bucket. Then, Friday morning, about 2am, our daughter Natalie decided to join in on bucket time, and I was too sick to care. Then about 5am, Matt started in as well, leaving Amy, our oldest and strongest, running around in our mayhem with a thermometer, being a 9 year old Florence Nightengale. She has yet to fall. But I am pretty sure she'll get it eventually.

And although I am not an advocator if eating disorders in any way shape or form, I will admit that after I tossed my cookies (ok, no cookies, just frozen fruit bars) I ran to the scale to see what would happen. I have to say that I did lose another 2 pounds over the last couple of days (bringing me to a total of 193.2) -painful and not a good way to lose weight. It was, however, my silver lining to the flu. At least it made Matt chuckle as we laid on the bed in agony.


So that brings us to today. Natalie, Matt and I have not eaten today, but we feel better- and I think I can justify going to the big party tonight. After all, the first thing I did when I started the diet was calculate if I lost x amount of pounds per week, by June 6th, I will weigh this much for the party. Yes, Ma’am, I surely did. I have also watched those plans of 3 pounds per week go by the wayside, and have had to come to grips with a painstakingly slow process that my body will adhere to.


But it’s not all bad. I am officially 45 pounds from where I started back in September, which is a little more than a pound a week. So what if it’s going to take me another 6 or 8 months to get to my goal? That means that I’m normal. Not fabulous, like I dream about being. But normal.


The crux of being somewhat unfabulous means I get to attend a party tonight feeling less than great, but better. It means I get to cake on makeup so I don’t look like death warmed over. It also means that I get to pretend like my eye doesn’t look like Matt gave me a right hook. Yep, in the throws of the flu (pun intended), I broke a blood vessel in my eye and am holding an ice pack on the peeper to get the swelling down. I seriously considered going pirate and wearing a patch, but I think it is best if I just go as a normal person, who had a rough week, and let the fabulous parts of me shine through on their own.


Which is exactly what Operation Shrink Charlie’s Big Butt is all about, isn’t it? Learning that we are all able to do something extraordinary even though it feels hum-drum and hard. It’s about learning that even one pound now and then is an achievement to be proud of. It is about being comfortable to say that this is who I am, but being brave enough to say it’s time for a change.


It’s about deciding that unfabulous is way more fun than fabulous could ever be.


I’m going to get ready now, and pictures will follow soon!

The Right to Bare Arms?

For the longest time, since high school actually, I have had a serious complex about my arms. My flabby jiggly arms. The ones that are connected to my round shoulders and barrel chest. I’m built like a linebacker who was endured a surge of estrogen, minus the hair, adding another cup. A little higher, of course. But not much. Stupid gravity…


As I have been losing weight, I have slowly been warming up to my less than graceful upper appendages, but I'm only lukewarm. Which leads me to a huge dilemma.


I have to attend a formal party next Saturday, and it’s like prom for grownups. Well, for the girls anyway. The guys usually show up in a nice shirt and jeans, which makes for an odd combination. Sequins and denim- like a bedazzler gone awry. And because I have to attend this party, which I am very much looking forward to, I must make a decision that could make or break me. Am I small enough yet to expose the upper parts of my arms to the world?


Part of this predicament is completely mute. There are only so many appropriate dresses that will go around the boobs and not make me look like I am aerodynamically incorrect. Not that Matt would mind, but come on, I have eyes, people, and they are hazel! But I also don’t want to look like a nun, pious and lacking any sex appeal whatsoever. So in finding the perfect dress that is a blend of streetwalker and kindergarten teacher, I am forced to make the big decision.


Sleeveless or sweat factory?


Because on one hand, the sleeveless is a light flowy fabric that has the wonderful capacity to breathe. It doesn’t need altering, and really, the dress doesn’t look too bad. IN MY MIND. But what if I get out there and everyone starts hurling on the spot because my less-fat arms are not as fabulous as I thought? What if my arms are the topic of conversation at every table but mine? What if they aren’t ready to make their public debut?


But on the other hand, I sweat like a pig, and that is not an exaggeration in the slightest. I pour out buckets, and as you may remember, the pits are sensitive to deodorant. I only have 2 kinds that really work, and after 2 hours, I still smell (so I suppose they don’t work that well). So if I wear the strapless dress that is a much heavier fabric with the long wrap to cover up arms, I am going to be comfortable with my pigs in a blanket, except for the fact that I can’t lift them up, or heaven forbid wrap my arms around my darling husband’s neck to romance like I want to. Nope, I am going to be in my own invisible straight jacket. Smelling like a linebacker right after practice.


So, I left the decision up to the only thing I could think of that would be impartial. THE SHOES. Yes, I put a most emotional and big decision in the hands (rather on the heels) of the one thing I could count on. I have gorgeous feet, if I do say so myself, and while we have marched into some precarious messes together, I know they will stand on their own and happily choose my path. It was a big step for me.


Before I left to do some serious shoe shopping, I took my measurements for the first time in 3 months. I have been dreading this because the last time I did it, there was not so much change and my nose got out of joint. It was like saying “You are doing all of this really hard work, and I’m throwing you a bone. But you need to work harder.” It has only been a change of 17 pounds since the end of February, and I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe an inch or 2… 5 tops. As I started tracking my numbers on the Excel sheet, I noticed that the auto sum at the bottom was adding up to double digits. By the time I was finished, I was floored to learn that I had lost 18 inches in 3 months! When I added up the total since the first time I measured everything on January 1st, I am happy to report a grand total of 30.75 inches!!! And I am proud to say that 1.5 inches were off those flabby arms I love to hate. Hmmmm….


I got in the van, filled with joy and courage, to fit the outfits with the perfect shoes and decide from there. I walked around 3 stores, tried on about 15 pairs, and got it narrowed down to a few pairs, but wasn’t in love with any of them. I’m sure looked glorious as I was trying on very formal shoes in my bright red sweat pants pulled above the knee, pretending like I was in one of the two dresses, spinning to see if I would fall flat on my shrinking butt.


That was when I saw them, the perfect shoes for the occasion. I loved those patent leather beauties from the moment I laid hazel eyes on them. And they were like stepping into a cloud, fitting me perfectly. (And I didn’t even have to buy an 8 wide! My feet must be getting thinner too!) Then I found the perfect jewelry, on clearance for $3 at Wal-Mart, and got myself a new bra (had to get a dark one) and a girdle. For those of you who have known me long, or been in a play with me, you know that I am all about the lycra, and have been known to wear more than one girdle at a time. Highest amount at one time was 4. But for this special night, I am only wearing 2. Feeling pretty happy about the shrinking body.


So, I am not going to tell you which dress won. You have to guess on the survey over to the left. Yep, I want to know what you guys think. You may be surprised! Only 3 people know which dress I am wearing, and Mom, Sheryl and Julia, you are NOT allowed to vote. I will post a picture of me in the winning dress on Saturday, the 6th, right as I am all dolled up and ready to go to the party, so you all can get the full effect.


By the way, I wanted to let you know about an upcoming Operation Shrink Charlie’s Big Butt special! I am going to do an interview with Mrs. Kelly O’Toole. If you don’t know who she is, then you are missing out on meeting a huge inspiration. She was the person who told me how she lost weight. And, people, weight she lost! Only 175 pounds. Yep, you read right! 175 pounds! Absolutely amazing! We are working on getting it together, and she is excited to share some of her experiences, thoughts and insights with us all. She saw me at a wedding on December 27th, talked to me about what she has done to lose such an incredible amount, and by January 1st, I was on the diet train, where I still am today. You can imagine how excited I am to share her story with you! I promise to keep you posted.


Until then, know that I am working out, eating right, and as always- having fun and dragging you along with me. Now go vote!!!

A Look Back between THEN and WOW

OK, one of the hardest things for me to do is be open about the size of my body. I’ve always found it (my body) to be “inferior” and because of this I learned how to let my personality overcompensate for the fact that I am a fat chick. Not to mention that the blessings in cups tend to make me look like I am eternally preggers because the shirt hangs like an awning from the boobs and is a good 6 feet away from my tummy. God giveth me A LOT of blessings.

Yet in light of my recent success at hitting the land of “Under 200 pounds at last,” (this morning I was at 198.4!) I had to rethink how I feel about my body. It is changing, and I believe there is a good reason why. I started fessing up to the truth about my body. After I admitted to the world what that shameful weight actually was, something inside me really changed. I began embracing what my body was capable of. I began enjoying the little victories instead of saying “but there is still so far to go!” -

I began loving the body that I had hated for so long.

Now, what I am about to do is completely out of character for me. Because of my faith, and my calling to be a preacher, I am a firm believer in modesty, and the idea of me in a swimsuit is earthshaking to me. The idea of publicly displaying an accurate picture of me in a swimsuit on the internet for all to see is ludicrous, almost to the point of plaid. (Spaceballs reference, for those who didn’t understand that last one.)

I want to make something very clear before we move on. I am now a woman of integrity. I am not posting these pics to display a sense of anything except encouragement. Please don’t write me and say you think my posting these pictures is completely inappropriate. One of the largest issues I had in the beginning of the diet was I had no idea what size I really was. I would get a picture taken and think “Man that picture was at a bad angle! I look really fat!” Nope, in reality, I was really fat. It wasn’t until one of my friends told me that she was at 204, when I was sitting at 210 that I finally thought- OK, girl, you are about this size. It was an eye opener for me, and finally gave me something to compare myself to in a realistic way. It was very healthy for me.

My hope in posting the pics I have is that someone can look at them and say “Ok, I am about this size” or “I was about that size when I started.” This is not a sexual or attention gratification thing, and if you see it as either of those things, well, quite frankly, you are wrong. All righty, enough disclaimers. Let’s get to this before I chicken out and post more pictures of men’s feet with red toe polish on them. (that cracks me up everytime!)

So these are pics of me from the beginning of January. I was 225 pounds then, and a size 22/24. I had lost some weight from the previous Oct-Dec, but not much, only 13 pounds. I felt miserable, as you maybe can tell by the look on my face. The poor flowers on this suit weren't supposed to look that big, I assure you. But that was THEN.

And this is WOW. (I mean now!)

I was surprised to say the least. So, one of the most awesome things about taking pictures (disgusting as they may be) is to see the huge difference in the tummy area. Apparently it was not the shirt that made me look pregnant. It was the Ben and Jerry's within.

I know that the wow/now pics aren't great, and I am still 60 pounds from where I want to be. However, I can rejoice that the change thus far has been massive. Because my husband is a photoshop genius, last night he was able to lay the really fat picture under the not-so-fat picture and show the difference between the 2 photos. When I looked at the finished product this morning, I was nothing short of astounded. I could not believe the difference you could see between the pics, just 5 months apart. Can you see the difference?

So while I was busy whining about cheating on donuts and freaking out about not being under 200, my body had an agenda all it's own. It was slowly morphing into a much better version of me than I ever thought possible! I am not getting biggest loser results in 12 weeks. But after seeing these pictures (with white/blue unsunned legs and all) I realized that I am doing what is best for my body. If slow and steady will lead to a healthier me, then I need to stick with what I am doing.

And now, my dear shrinkites (that's my pet name for you all- like a Biblical equivalent of Jebusites or more modern day Mennonites. It was either that or the shrinkonians), it is your turn. You don't have to send me pictures, but I would love to know about your goals, your victories, and your struggles. Trust me on this guys, there is something freeing about admitting out loud where you are on your journey, and telling someone who understands. If you don't think I understand, look again at the pictures from January. I DO UNDERSTAND. Any thing you send me (at oscbb@yahoo.com ) will be kept confidential (unless you specify otherwise) and it will be between you and me only. I'm not asking you to do this because I am nosy, but because I want you to experience the same success that I did when I "confessed" where I was to you. I want you to be liberated from hating your body, and find a peace with your physical state that is in transition.

I want to take you with me to the land of Shrinkage, where skim milk and splenda flows!

It finally happened today! I saw 199.2! I am in shock and awe, and it is an amazing feeling! I promise to write again soon, but you, my dear friends, deserve an update when news is of this magnitude. If I can do it, SO CAN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stuck in the Middle with You!

The only thing I am losing lately is motivation. Yep, I am stalled out again. Although I am stalled out at a lower weight than I was before, and lower than I have been for years, as it were. I am stuck at 200 pounds even.

I have tried everything to get under that not so magical number. Well, I should say I have tried everything that doesn’t require wheat germ, toilets or sweat. I seem to have an aversion to doing that which will make me hurt the next day, including everything but my “Fat Girl Yoga” dvd. Even that has been cast aside because there is not a clean spot in the living room to do it.

So what in the world is holding me back? We discussed this a little in my confessions, but we never got to the real problem, OR solution. (I really could care less about the problem, as I am only interested in how to fix it.) But, my sweet friends, life does not work like that, and I am sure you all know that. We have to figure out the issue before we can move on to smaller and better things. So we are going to muse for a few moments, as I ramble through all my deep dark feelings about being fat, and see if we can’t resolve one or two. My goal in doing this is to not only help myself, but maybe some other dieters out there who have fallen off the wagon. You guys write to me about the same stuff I deal with, and the internet is cheaper than therapy, so I say we do this together! Are you ready? Hang onto your girdles, girls, cause here we go!

Excuse #1- I have been fat all my life, and it’s not going to change.
Ok, coming from a life long fatty, I can relate. I was skinny till I was 8, and got put in a school where I was the underdog. I was miserable, and once I learned to read big thick chapter books, I sat and read while munching on chips. Before I knew what had happened, not only was I the underdog, but I was the FAT underdog. I stayed in this position until…well, I am still in this position, but that is not the point. The point is that we change jobs, get married, get divorced, we even change our hair color! (Heck, I’ve colored my hair for so many years I have no recollection or idea what the real color looks like! Although I’m pretty sure there is grey now. I have children.) So, we make these huge life altering decisions, and they are not made overnight. We have to work for them. When you get a new job, you have applied for it first, made yourself stand out among all the other candidates, interviewed like a pro, and then negotiate your salary before you even get there. If the old job was perfect, you wouldn’t have applied for the new one, right? So your body needs a new job, plain and simple. Yes, it has already been trained to be fat and lazy. Yes, that first day on the job is going to be really hard and scary. But, sweethearts…that new job for your body has way better benefits than the old one. And once you are fully trained, that new job is going to seem really easy. Not to mention that your body will be lengthening its retirement benefits by lowering your cholesterol, shooing away diabetes, and even extending the life and usage of our joints. So you have been fat forever. So what? Today is not forever, my friend. You can’t change yesterday, but you can stand up today with brave face and get to it!

Excuse #2- I am too busy to worry about my diet right now, and don’t have time to exercise. Oh, this one is a fun one. We are all incredibly busy, and no one really has time for anything. I even have neglected this blog for over a month because I am so flipping busy. However, knowing how many of you are at that "BLAH" point (I am too, believe me), I decided to forgo housework today and talk to you. I think when we look at everything as a whole, it seems too involved. We have to count out portions, pack lunches, ignore family and loved ones to make time for exercise, etc. Dieting IS time consuming, I’ll give you that. But it is also about making good healthy choices in the moment. Regular or diet? Diet or water? Fries or salad? Elevator or stairs? Do you see? In the split second that we make decisions like that, we can change our lives drastically, by putting good things in, moving our body, and walking past that office birthday cake. I know that we don’t have hours to put into dieting, but I promise you that you have split seconds to turn your life around.

Excuse #3- This is going to slow for me. I need immediate results, and I am not thrilled about how long this is going to take! Have you ever tried to grow out your bangs? This is the hardest thing a woman can do. You all know that your bangs get to a point where they are not long, but they are not short. They are at that wretched in between stage when you can’t do anything with them. Does everybody know what I am talking about? It takes time to grow them out, no matter what you do. Usually, when mine are growing out and they get to that in between stage, I whack them off even shorter before. Do you know why? Because they get into my eyes and it makes me nuts (nuttier than before, anyway), so off they go! Alright, you are dieting. You have seen some results, but you are still far from a size 6. Just look at it this way. This is the annoying stage when your diet is getting in your eyes. It bothers you, and you really can’t do anything but keep going and say “the heck with it!” If you cut it off now, you will never see how far it is going to go and how awesome it will look when you hit goal. So, put the cupcakes down, and pick the dumb bell up. Start banging out some jumping jacks, and get through this, one step at a time!

Excuse #4- I have too much weight to lose. It’s overwhelming! OK, when this whole dieting adventure started, my waistline could have gotten a senior citizen discount. It was awful. I had one pair of jeans that fit me, and they were a whopping size 26. I fit my 55 inch waist in those puppies, and they were snug. I know what it feels like to have over 100 pounds to lose. I started this journey at 238 pounds, and that was the number I got before I stopped weighing myself. So I know how this feels, like it is just too much to handle. But you have to start somewhere, before you become the subject of a half-ton special on TLC. SO- why not here? Why not today? I have talked about little decisions, and life changing steps that take time. The clock has to begin sometime. Since I started dieting, I have lost 38 pounds, and happily report that my waist is a svelte 38.5 inches. That is 16 and a half inches I have lost on my WAIST! It felt like a lot to begin with, and it was painful to see how far I had to go. But I committed to drive on this trip, and not fly. It’s important that I keep pressing the gas pedal and steer toward Disneyland. I may only be half way there, but that doesn’t mean it’s time to turn around and go home!

Excuse #5- I have gained back all the weight I previously lost, so that means I am a total failure. Dieting again is only going to lead to disappointment and will prove that I can’t do it! First of all, you have proven that you can do this already! You lost it once, you can do it again! Just because you fall down doesn’t mean you get to wallow on the ground in your misery. It means that you got to take a breather, and now you must get back up and run for your goal! Everybody feels like a failure at something. Mine are too many to list, but include dieting, housework, math…I could go on and on! If you are going to be a quitter, be a quitter at something worthwhile- quit allowing yourself to be the fat you. One of the best things I ever did was make my husband change my nickname. He used to call me SB- Sugar Butt. I now make him call me SB- Skinny Butt. The mental reinforcements are key to your success. If you keep telling yourself that this is impossible, then it will be! But if you start telling yourself that you are beautiful (or handsome for you fellas), that you are capable, and your body is changing at this very moment, you are going to trick yourself into being successful! Once it starts, and you see small results, then you will be back on track. Take measurements, grab a friend who is dieting and walk, let someone know what your weight is to hold you accountable! These things will help you in the long run as you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Dieting is not about comfort. It is about allowing you to be the best you that you can be! That is going to take some commitment, and failure will only cling to you as long as you let it. So, get up! Shake it off! And know that I believe in you. We can do this. I know we can!

Excuse #6- Charlie, I don’t need to lose weight! I only read the blog because it is incredibly funny and you are so gosh darn talented! Then I suggest you go home, eat 10 boxes of Twinkies and a bucket of lard every day for the next week, and quit making the rest of us look fat! But keep reading the blog, cause you’ll need it after that lard hits your thighs!

I hope that this helps you fellow calorie counters out there. I want you all to know that no matter what you are facing, you are not alone! You are not fighting this fight by yourself, and I am here to help, however I can!

I want to thank you all for your emails, updates on your own journeys, and your encouraging words through comments on the blog and facebook. Your friendships are vital to my success, and I promise to keep you all in the loop of my own travels in diet land, as I push ahead in the land of “Under 200 pounds at last!” Yep. It’s gonna happen very very very soon, I just know it!

Until then….