Charlie knows Jack, another Charlie, and Meet up Thursday #2

So, we have made it to Thursday again. Whatta week!

Today is meet up day, where we meet new dieting bloggy neighbors and friends... and in my infinite bloggy amazingness, I have YET to get a cool graphic with the embed code on it for the event. Feel free to create and send me one if you understand that HTML crap that I usually pay someone else to do. HTML is lost on me. Kinda like jogging...

My weight? Hold on, gonna go strip and pee one more time (and praying that the late night attack on a box of Pizza Rolls didn't hurt me too bad...) 182.8 and it could have been worse. I was STARVING, and that sounded dee-lish. So I had a little. No harm done, and I'm not freaking out. I'll just work it off today.

Next, I want to tell you a little about a few things before we "meet up" with some stories.

I have been corresponding with a few new bloggers. And you need to go check them out. Cause they are the rare boys out there in the dieting bloggy world. And that is brave. We chicks kinda dominate this racket.

First of all, is Jack Sh*t Gettin' Fit. If you haven't taken the time to check Jack out, and you have a sense of humor, then go look at the MASSIVE following this guy has. He's a big bloggy star. And his site, while often off color, is a riot! He's lost about 80, and that is something to sneeze at. Or nothing to sneeze at. I never got that turn of phrase anyway. So go check him out. He's a hoot!

Next is my new found kindred spirit, Charlie Hills at Back to the Fridge. Charlie found me a few weeks ago in the blogosphere, and it turns out he is an author of a few books. So I ordered one. And I read:

"Why your last diet failed you, and why this book won't help you on your next one"

This book is so funny, I practically peed my pants more involuntarily than I usually do! Go to Lockshire and get it, because this man has got to eat. But don't pay too much for it, cause he doesn't need a lot- he's on a diet. All I have to say about the book is this: This is the book I wanted to write for you all but haven't done yet. Without the issues of Mother Nature, of course. Yeah, folks, it's good. Really really good. And his blog "Back to the Fridge" is great too!

Now, we are moving on to Meet Ups. Today, I have the stories of 3 more women. I have NONE for next week, so please feel free to send them in at oscbb@yahoo.com and put "Meet up Thursday" in the subject line. Include a pic or 2, and use proper grammar so we all sound smart. If we can't be thin, we can be edge-u-mi-cated. Please check out their links and leave them comments of support and all the OSCBB love we share here!

And without further adieu, let's meet some new people!

ANGELA PEA - Keeping the Faith: SKINNY ME Edition (Angela Pea is on the right)

Back To School Night

I’m full of quirks, very opinionated, and I think that everyone should do things my way. Why? Because I am right 102% of the time, and have already thought through whatever it is that needs to be done, and I have already figured out the most efficient way to do it. And I know where the tools are, which is not in the toolbox where they belong.

I’m also very intelligent and well educated. I can carry on a decent conversation, speak comfortably in public, and can write a well-organized grammatically correct paper/article/technical paper without batting an eyelash. I design things, and when I drive around the Metroplex, I see things, BIG things, that I’ve had a hand in bringing to life. Convention Center? Yeah, that was me taking care of all the utilities and that spiffy courtyard with drivable pavers. Nature Center? Me again with the permeable pavement that directs rainwater to the planting areas. Airport? Uh, yeah. I’m responsible for two of those runways, as well as the FedX facility and the ginormous parking apron where your airplane sits in the wintertime for deicing.

So…why do I completely fall apart when faced with Back To School Night? Why am I totally freaked out, yelling at my dear husband on the phone when he calls to tell me that he has some sort of emergency at his office that involves classified information, congressmen and a bazillion dollars worth of fancy airplanes with guns and that I will have to wing it alone?? Why? Why does my otherwise confident and capable self just totally implode?

Because I had to go to Back To School Night and face those other mothers. The mothers who are skinny. The Moms who spend their days at the gym and the tennis court or lounging by the crystal pool in their back yard or at the country club. (Yeah, we still have them around here.) The pampered, adored wives with tans, sporting beautiful nail extensions, perfectly highlighted hair, spiffy clothes and who are driving luxury cars. These are the movers and the shakers, the ones who chair all of the committees, head up the fundraising and who prepare the teacher luncheons. These are women who have the luxury of being able to take care of themselves.

Jealous much? Just a little bit. But now I’m thinking. Why do I think taking care of myself is a luxury? Why do I think that being skinny and pretty equates to happiness? Why do I look at the world with lenses that only focus on the physical beauty and find myself inadequate? Why can’t I appreciate the amazing things I’ve done, the wonderful creation that I am? Because I’m a fool. Because this is a battle that I fight with myself every single day.

Most days I win (lots of prayer and armored with God’s Grace) but every now and then I don’t. Like on Back To School Night.

Angela emails me a lot, I email her back a lot, and I really appreciate her honesty and willingness to hold me accountable. I know I can count on my Angela Pea! She's GREAT!

Next up is Lauren at Life of LT!!!! (She's adorable!)

My story? Interesting you should ask. Because, well, it's been a roller coaster to say the least. My weight, like my life, goes up and down and twists and turns. I'm a classic case of having always been overweight and always, always struggled/struggling with it. And as a result I've always had self-esteem issues. All of the women in my family are overweight. All of us are emotional eaters. My mom used to joke about overeaters anonymous - I thought this was a fake group. Not so. It wasn't until my counselor suggested I attend a meeting that I realized these were real life people. Emotional eating is a real life problem. And for me, I literally eat for every emotion I feel! They follow the 12 steps of AA. However, I just didn't get much out of the meetings. It's like everything I've tried has failed. Well really, it's me that hasn't stuck to any program. And here I am, about to turn 27, and I have spent all of my twenties overweight. Isn't this supposed to be a fun part of my life?

And here's what I blame it on (over the course of the past 6 years):
Major, major financial problems.
Moving 6 times
The unexpected death of my mother
My grandfather's death a year later
Hubby's multiple job loss
Family drama
Stress
Infertility
The demons in my head telling me I'm not good enough to be any better. Ok, now that just sounds like I need an exorcism. Just couldn't find a better way to put it!
I thought for sure that my self esteem issues would change once I became an adult, but frankly, it's only gotten worse. I find that I hate meeting new people for fear of what they would think of me because I'm overweight. This is soooo not my personality - I've always been a people person. But lately, there's just too much anxiety. My hubby is overweight too and I really get anxious when we go out together - like people are saying "look at that fat family", etc. I feel like my family judges me. My coworkers. My church. I feel like it makes me less marketable as a photographer. So, so many issues. And deep down I know about 85% of it is all in my head.
Why do I do this?
I constantly fight with myself on this.
Before we know it, I'll never leave the house.
And I desperately do not want to get to that point.

Steps to Freedom:

So lately, I've really been trying to re-organize my life to ensure that I pave the way for change. And a few major meltdowns later, I feel like I'm on the right track. I've found that cutting things out a little at a time seems to work the best so far. I'm a week and a half into a no sugar diet. I'm 3 days into no fried foods. And I don't really miss any of it. I'm also exercising - at a slow pace to start, but at least I'm moving! And in addition to all that, I am completely inspired by your blog and the relief that there is someone else out there struggling with my very same struggles.

There are so many things I want for this life. I feel trapped by my weight - like it's a ball and chain. It's time to loosen the chains and break free. It's time for a new tomorrow.

-- Lauren T

"I will give thanks to the LORD because of his righteousness and will sing praise to the name of the LORD Most High" ~Psalm 7:17

And finally, the woman who got me to give up Domino's bread bowl pastas (which was no small feat, and required serious tough love), the one and only:

LISA B. - no weight loss blog, but anyone who wants to follow my journey on FB can send a friend request with "OSCBB / WW" in the friend request message http://www.facebook.com/megaptera1969

I hit the big 4-0 in Dec 2009, and with my being vertically challenged at 5 feet and NO inches, I have been packing an extra 50-70+ lbs of weight over the healthy weight range for my height for almost my entire adult life.

I had a near fatal car accident in July 2008 which was life changing in itself, and hitting forty really made me realize, if I don't choose to make a change to get healthy now, I put myself at increased risk of heart attack, high blood pressure, diabetes, higher health insurance premiums, and so much more.

My parents are in their 70s, go to the gym regularly, look like they are in their 50s, and are still out water skiing, snow skiing, and traveling the world. I want to feel and look that good when I am in my 70s, so what was I going to do to change my future?

I have NEVER had will power before, but I never felt a need to really change my life before. I felt fine with my body the way it was, as it had always been that way. I had done Weight Watchers for a time in my 20s or 30s, but I had never set or gotten to goal weight. I think the lowest I ever achieved was somewhere in the 150s.

The monthly pass program is such a better deal. Weight Watchers used to cost $15 a week just for weigh ins and weekly meetings which would be $780 a year. Now, they offer a $39.95 monthly pass, so for only $480 a year, I get the weekly weigh ins and meetings, and I get access to their online tools which allow me to track every bite I eat and drink and every minute of activity I get in a day. There is also a huge database of online recipes and community message boards and online challenges.

I really wasn't eating foods that were bad for me too often before starting Weight Watchers, but I was eating portions that were far too large. With the WW system of calculating points, it is so easy to know before a meal how many points I can eat and what the foods are worth in points so I know how much to consume in advance.

I used to enjoy an occasional Dairy Queen chocolate chip cookie dough blizzard when I was on road trips, but now that I am aware the CCCD blizzard is more points than I should eat in an entire day, I have zero desire to eat one. I find alternatives to satisfy my CCCD craving, such as the Weight Watchers cookie dough sundae cup which is only 3 points. I can handle that and fulfill my CCCD cravings.

I am still very bad about making and following a commitment for additional exercise, but so far, I have been losing just by watching and tracking every single bite. It feels so good, and while I am still not obsessed with my looks, I love being able to fit into clothes that used to be too tight.

My motivation and will power don't really falter because I know with each pound I lose, I am becoming healthier and reducing my risk for so many diseases. I never use the word DIET because that implies so many negatives: (1) a temporary change, (2) restriction from many foods, and (3) the possibility of putting the weight back on once "goal" is reached. This is a permanent lifestyle change for me.

I put all of my weight loss journey out for public consumption on Facebook to share my weekly weigh in results, my before measurements and pictures, and progress pictures along the way. I am highly motivated having the weekly accountability to my online network. People have cheered my losses and offered words of advice to get through the weeks where I have done everything right but still gained weight.

I am grateful for blogs like Charlie's where those of us on this journey can relate to the ups and downs of the commitment to making a life long change, and increase our support network to help us along the way. If you are on this path, congratulations for having the courage to make a positive change in your life! If you are still contemplating whether to start your journey, there is no time like the present. You can do it, and you are not alone. We are here to help you reach for your goals!

I hope you have enjoyed meeting all the wonderful people that I have gotten to know. Want to be included in next week's edition of Meet Up Thursdays? Then send me your stories at oscbb@yahoo.com 'cause we can't WAIT to meet you!!!!!

This IS My Body...

As promised. My self expose.

The most painful 10 minutes were filming it. Or so I thought, until I spent an hour and a half editing it. That was even worse. (And you can thank me for cutting some of the really gross parts. Especially when I showed how my belly could swallow the freshly plucked bellybutton. That I left out with you in mind.)

Why did I do it?

For a couple of reasons.

A) I want every woman (and the few brave men that have stuck it out through the Diva Cup posts) out there struggling with weight to know that you are NORMAL. You are NEVER ALONE in this fight. Don't like your body? Neither do I. But most of all, I don't like that my fears and my emotions have held me back for so long.

B) I think we sometimes don't have a concept of what our bodies really look like in motion. And movement makes all the difference. I personally needed a reality check.

C) Flipping that switch. Remember?

So- there's no nudity, but you will see A LOT of the real me.

Kinda freaking out, because sometimes I wonder if I take this whole "Honesty in Dieting" policy too far.

Wondering through the process of video taping myself if this is going to be a disaster.

Wishing that I was showing you my "I reached my goal" video instead of my "stuck in limbo and desperate to change" video.

But this is my body. For everything it is, for everything it's not...

It's mine to have and mine to change. It's time to be brave and show the world that me and my body are ready for some hard work.

This IS my body.

Products I Want... or think I want!

So here we are, and it’s Tuesday already. What have I done?

Watched my portions. (Save an incident with pecans yesterday afternoon)

Moved around a little.

Caught another mouse.

Took the kids swimming.

Chickened out of filming the expose, due to the immediate need to pluck my bellybutton. SIGH…


Gained 2 pounds. (REALLY?? REALLY!!!!)


Sometimes, I really hate dieting. Othertimes (when I actually lose weight) I like it.

So, watching the season finale pt. 1 of “Dance Your A$$ Off” I saw 2 things I want.

The official DYAO Exercise DVD.


An EXERSPY.

Have you seen these little boogers yet? An arm band that basically tattles on you. It says how many calories you have burned, what you need to do to hit your goal, and probably tells the world if you cheated. I wonder if it beeps as you are lifting the oreo to your mouth? Anyway, I think I might need one of these. Just to be my Jimminy Cricket. Cause I can’t step on it to break it like I crush insects and my own goals. It’s too expensive.

Sometimes, I look at the products out there and just laugh. The shake weight (which I own), deal a meal, the ab glider, that ab shocking belt… then other times I look at the new technology out there and get excited. Things like the exerspy and BodyBugg.

Have any of you out there tried a great product that you love? (No diet pills, please.) Wanna share about it? I'm listening!

I'll leave the light on for ya'...

I won't deny the truth. The dieting switch has been off for a while. A PAINFULLY long time, as a matter of fact. Not hiding it, but certainly not enjoying talking about it.

And since it appears that I am not going to be a Hilton Hotel for a baby this month, I may as well diet. (I retook a test this morning. I had one last test to burn through, anyway. I was quite startled, in my first morning stupor, to hear it beep. I did not realize it was digital. I looked, and found I wasn't pregnant. However, my pee was a balmy 98.4 degrees...)

And thus, we start YET ANOTHER DAY ONE. But this time, I'm pulling out all the stops.

I'm not even kidding about that.

For starters, I got myself a new goal dress. I picked one that was void of Lycra, stretchy nylon, and the likes. I want no mercy. The last dress I got was a cute skull dress. And it stretched. It wasn't pretty, but it fit. THIS TIME, I got something fitted and tiny. In a size 10. I would have gone smaller, but I have to stuff my blessings in a cup somewhere. And size 6 dresses are not created with the saggy boobed slightly middle aged woman in mind. So I figured a 10 would keep me plenty occupied for the time being.

Next, tonight I am filming an expose on my actual body. No nudity, as I still have a shred of modesty and a few brain cells left. But I need to grasp what my body is. I need to see what I have to work on. (The obvious being tummy, arms, waist) But the truth is, I have no idea what they actually look like. My mirror lies to me. (The scale does not.) I am not going to do this out of poor self body image. It is only out of poor self image. Because I know what I can do if I set my mind to it. And while pictures are shockingly truthful a lot of times, a video- that captures jiggles and wiggles and flops- that should trip my trigger. And FAST. I might even attempt to put on the goal dress. It will make it that much more dramatic when it fits! (Shooting for Christmas)

Hanging around at 180, which is pretty good. I am aching to see 179 again. Then I will only be 10 pounds away from all I have gained over the last year. Funny how it takes forever to lose and no time at all to put back on!

Finally, I had a fruit fiesta at the produce section of Meijers. I happened to be in another town today, and got some of the fruits I love that our local stores don't carry. I am bound and determined to stay "clean" this week. And I'm going to do it one day at a time. One bite at a time. I'll be blogging every day this week, just for the accountability, since the YMCA pool is out of commission, and there will be no water aerobics. However, I have a crapton of exercise videos to keep me busy, a treadmill (somewhere under clothes mountain), and a washer and dryer that are one flight below me as we speak. I can bust through some calories just staying home. Or having a nervous breakdown about the upcoming expose tonight. Fear makes me sweat, and sweat is classified as working out. (In my book anyway!)

So there's the scoop. I am manually flipping my diet switch. I'm going to push it until it clicks, and I get the final leg of my journey done. I will do everything in my blogging power to help your switch flip too. Cause I don't like doing things alone. I have dieting codependency.

What things have flipped your switch? What do you think it WOULD take to get you motivated again?

Mousetrap

In order for you to understand the utter hilarity of this story, you MUST make sure you have read about the day Tim's fish died. It's not that I am being bossy, but it makes all the difference to appreciate this story you are about to read.

Now, do you remember that game from back in the 80's, Mousetrap?

You had to get all the pieces working in just the right way or you didn't catch the mouse. Let's just say that my house had a major throw back to the "Mousetrap" last night.

I am terrified of old fashioned mousetraps- the snappy kind. I'm petrified ever since one of them almost broke my fingers when the kids and I first moved into a house we affectionately called "The Diamond House." (There were plywood diamonds as a decorative detail on the front door.) I decided at the time, having children who were 3, 2, and 1 that conventional mousetraps were unsafe- even for Mama. So my Grandpa Bush introduced me to the wonders of sticky traps.

Non toxic and with no moving parts, I learned that sticky traps (or glue traps as some of you may call them) were wonderful at catching 4 legged vermin. I caught mouse after mouse, and my grandpa would dutifully come over every couple of days and put the caught mice into a bucket of water. (The man was a farmer. He had no love for rodents that ate his corn crops. No compassion, either. Now his dogs- that's a different story. They ate steak.)

While I no longer adhere (GROAN) to the bucket of water drowning method, since I am married, I simply let Matt take the glue trap with mouse attached outside and he deals with it. I don't ask, Matt doesn't tell.

So after the mouse hiding under my skillet last week, I knew there was a little critter in the kitchen. I had tried to pinpoint where Mousey was coming and going from. And yesterday afternoon I put 2 sticky traps in the places I figured, made sure they were small enough openings that Puppy (our cat) couldn't get to them, and waited.

I didn't have to wait too long...

About 11pm, Matt and I heard a HUGE ruckus in the kitchen. Such noise that at first we thought someone had broken in to our house. Matt, as the official "Noise Checker-outer" in our house, summoned his courage and peeked around the corner of the kitchen to see what was going on. (We are all still a little gun shy about strange noises since our night in the woods. I think coyotes are busting into the city to exact their revenge on us for screaming so much that night and scaring off any potential meals they would have had.)

He started laughing the second he saw what was making the ruckus, and reported back "It's just Pup. She's... wait... what IS that?"

At that moment, Puppy went bonkers. She dashed off to her litter box, knocked over her food bowl, and came tearing into the low lit living room. And in the dim light, I saw that somehow she had managed to get the glue trap stuck on her paw.

Matt, snickering to himself, started grabbing at Puppy to try and remove the trap. I, being the loving wife that I am, turned on the main light in the living room. And that was when Matt gave a hearty little shout. The trap he was reaching for on Puppy's paw also had a mouse attached to it. Fat little sucker, too.

Then came the Trap Tango- the delicate dance of a trap, a man, and a cat- with a mouse in the middle. Mousey could still move it's head a little, and was trying to gnaw the dickens out of Matt's fingers. And Matt was doing his best do get the stuck trap off poor Pup.

After 10 minutes of failed attempts, we decided that if we could hold the trap, we could cut Puppy's fur from the glue and remove her from her predicament. So that's what we did. I grabbed the trap and pulled it down as far as I could, and Matt delicately cut the fur, trying not to hurt Pup.

We finally got the trap off, and then of course Matt is making googley eyes at the mouse. He's a sucker for animals. I- on the other hand- lean towards the Grandpa Bush stand towards animals. I have killed many a mouse in my day. But if Matt wanted to dig little Mousey out of the glue without killing it first, he had the prerogative. He stepped outside with the trap for a few minutes and then came back inside. He looked a little green in the face, so I didn't ask. I was worried about getting the glue off of Puppy. Because she had begun to lick the glue on her paw, and how had a beard of glue on her chin. Her paw was also stuck to it.

I was gently trying to coax Puppy to let me try and remove the glue, and Puppy didn't trust me at all. It was obvious in her green eyes. She was MAD MAD PISSED MAD. And when she gets like this, it's game over. She will bite your fingers off if she has the chance. So I gave up and just watched her.

Matt took the enlightened man's approach. He googled. And he discovered that if you take peanut butter and rub it on the fur, the glue will come off. So he got the peanut butter, and I- knowing how MAD MAD PISSED MAD Puppy was, I suited up like a Sumo wrestler. I put a sweat shirt over my pajamas, then a bathrobe over my sweat shirt, then Matt's heaviest winter coat over that. I also found the matching gloves in the pocket. They are too big for me, but I had to deal with putting the peanut butter on Puppy anyway. I gave the gloves to Matt, gave him a towel, and we caught Puppy. He wrapped her up like a feisty burrito, and we began the Operation Peanut Butter.

I had the good sense to put my camera on record for this event. Enjoy.

Meetup Thursday #1

I probably should get a cool graphic thingy that links to my blog stating this is a portion of “Meetup Thursdays” like a proper blogger, but I didn’t think of that till just now. So we will just pretend for today and I’ll try to whip up something for next week.


And I am pleased to present to you the personal stories of our first 3 women. Remember, these are real women, just like us. Make your comments kind, and love the stuffings out of them just like you do with me!!! I'm just going to let each of these tales speak for themselves. And 2 of today’s girls have blogs, so check those out too!

Introducing…

Stephanie:

I am 20 years old and currently weigh around 100kg (depending on the day).









All my life I have struggled with constant taunts and remarks from so called friends, family and random people. Through primary school starting from grade 3 I started to gain weight, I hadnt changed the way I was eating but still seemed to get bigger. Most of the other kids were cruel (as we all know kids say some nasty things). I was called many a name and those names have followed me all the way into adulthood. It wasn’t just the children it was teachers too (the only teacher I liked called me a fatso and tried to make up for it with a merit award), friends parents (wouldn’t let me play with their children in case they ended up like me) and even family. My own father would call me fat. It hurt like crazy, I became depressed, lacked the confidence i needed to go out in public and didn’t spend time with anyone.

I thought going to high school might be a little different, but it didn’t change except the taunts got nastier. I was in a shell, depressed and never wanted to come out of my comfort zone. I tried going to university but was put down by adults (I thought it would have changed their attitudes). I quit going after I was sitting alone in the hallway on the phone to my bf (who has been extremely supportive through thick and thin) when another student walked past and said "hey baby can I have your number" and when I turned to see who it was he made the remark of "ew what a f—kn’ fat dog don’t look at me". It hurt so much that someone I didn’t even know could make a comment about me. I sank into a deeper depression and become suicidal.

Now at the age of 20 it still hurts me inside. I have no confidence to wear different clothes because I’m afraid of what people will say to me. I can’t look at photos that I am in because I am disgusted at what I see. I feel thin in my head but look huge in photos. It makes me feel sick. My self confidence has been shot down so many times I just don’t know how to get back up again. People will still make comments to this day about my weight. I have struggled through more diets than I can count. I have tried pills, shakes, Jenny Craig and just plain old exercise and no fatty food. Nothing is helping, I’ve been told my next option is to have lap banding. I am hoping I can improve on my confidence and make myself a better person.

That’s my story if it made any sense.Thanks for letting me share.

Up next is Lee-Bird. (Her blog is Prayer Gifts)



(I have actually MET Lee in person, last year at a conference. See? I'm strengthening actual relationships here!!!)




School is back in full swing for me. In fact, my students had a big social studies test today and will have a huge math midterm tomorrow.As a special education teacher, I find myself a tad secluded on testing days, for many of my students require small group testing and other accommodations.

Today, sequestered in the media center computer lab, I facilitated testing for students sharing their newfound knowledge of the U.S. Constitution. We the people...should have studied harder!Between telling about a dozen kids what the word "impacted" means and reminding ornery boys that they had no reason to be messing with the computer keyboards, I noticed an almost life-size poster of Amare Stoudemire tacked onto the door of the lab.

A star player for the Phoenix Suns, the poster advertises Amare's dependence on milk to keep him in tip-top, ball-dunkin' shape.The poster includes a handprint, actual size, that dwarfs the hands of curious junior highers who take the time to hold their hands up against it.At the bottom of the glossy picture is a shoeprint of Amare's size-17 basketball shoes. Do you think he has ever tripped over those monsters?

Now here is where the ugly truth comes in...The poster graciously shares Amare's "dimensions."

Amare Stoudemire: Height: 6'10", Weight: 245 pounds

Sigh.....blush....groan

Lee: Height: 5'6.5", Weight 243 pounds

I WEIGH ALMOST AS MUCH AS A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE MORE THAN A FOOT TALLER THAN ME!!!!

I remember having a similar rude revelation when I was nine months pregnant with my first son, Garrett, and heard some football player's "dimensions" on TV...it was bad then, but it's WAY WORSE now! My last baby was born almost 11 years ago, and I weigh the same as I did when I delivered my first baby.

Something MUST be done, and I am the one who has to do it!I MUST get this weight off. No more excuses and no more procrastination.I would be debt-free if I still had all the money I've invested in diet books, diet pills, and check-out stand magazines promising my belly fat will melt away while I sleep. I don't need another diet book.

I need to cut back on the CRAP food and get active.I need to drastically decrease my consumption of empty liquid calories and increase my water intake. I need to deny my spoiled-rotten cravings and make better choices for myself for my good and for God's glory.

Help me out, bloggy friends...by praying for me and by giving me your best tips to making positive health choices. For now, I'm taking my Amare-sized body upstairs to bed!



And finally for this week- bloggy designer extraordinaire- Jessica: (and Jessica, I totally apologize because I couldn't figure out how to get your other adorable picture onto piece o' crap Blogger. Feel free to send it in another email with just the pic and I will add it.)

My name is Jessica, I’m 19 years old, and I’m a foodaholic.

There has never been a time in my life where I have been thin. And to make matters worse, my two younger sisters are tall, athletic young women who have never struggled with their weight. Growing up, I was always so embarrassed and ashamed of myself for being the “fat sister.” Friends and relatives would rave about my sisters’ athletic abilities, only to pause and look at me to say “…and you’re the artistic one!” That’s not a consolation prize.

I entered high school at age 14 weighing about 160 at 5’2”. Because of the insecurities I had about my weight, I isolated myself from social situations whenever possible and threw myself many a pity party where I would eat my feelings instead of dealing with them. Because of this routine, I packed on a whopping 30 lbs in high school – the worst part is I was only vaguely aware of it happening. It wasn’t until I compared my school photos side-by-side that I came to the shocking and horrifying realization of just how out of control my weight had gotten.

It took a photo from a family vacation the summer of my junior year to hit rock bottom.

Yeah, I’m the one looking uncomfortable in my own skin. When I saw this photo, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.


My senior year, I decided to do something about it. I joined Weight Watchers. I fought a battle of epic proportions with the scale, riding an emotional roller coaster as the number bounced up and down each week. And after 8 months, I went from weighing 190 to 162. I was getting compliments regularly about how great I looked and my friends noticed a big change in the way I carried myself.


At that point, I had little to no gut to speak of, a much thinner face, and proof that I actually had a neck and collar bone. I had maybe 25 more pounds to lose, but I was definitely feeling good about myself.

…Then came my downfall: the !@#$ing holidays. Not only did I fall off the wagon, I catapulted myself off of it. Each week at weigh-in, I became more and more disgusted with myself as the number on the scale crept ever higher. I stopped going all together when I hit 167.

Fast forward through a year’s worth of “oh, I’ll start dieting again on Monday. I’ll start on the 1st of the month. After my vacation.” You name the excuse to put it off, and I used it.

That would bring us to present day. I procrastinated myself all the way to 190 – right back where I started. I could kick myself for not only quitting when I had made so much progress, but putting it all back on just as quickly as it came off.

In an attempt to keep myself accountable, I started a blog back in April at The Skinny on my Weight-loss at 177 lbs. Did that stop me from putting on 13 lbs in the following 4 months? No. Is it even possible to put on 13 lbs in 4 months? Apparently.

Luckily, I’m slowly on the decline. My highest weight recently was 190.6. I’ve gotten down to 185, and I spend a LOT of time in between.

Looking back I could kick myself for throwing my whole diet out the window when I was up a measly 5 lbs, when I had already lost nearly 30. But I did learn a life lesson from it: I will inevitably struggle with my weight my whole life, and I will be that much stronger having learned to deal with this issue so early on.

Despite my frustrations along the way, however big they may seem at the time, I refuse to let myself give up again. I have to keep pressing forward - day by day; little by little. There will be many blunders along the way, and I’m sure some days I will fall flat on my ass. The only thing to do will be to pick myself up and keep on trekkin.’

I am officially rejoining Weight Watchers this week, so this self evaluation could not come at a better time. I can’t promise you I’ll get better at blogging, but I promise to update you on my successes and failures every once and a while along the way.

The best of luck to those of you trekkin’ along with me! Your stories inspire me to do better.



What strikes me the most about each of these girls is that I can relate to something within each of their stories. There is a chord that rings true in every word they say. I hope these stories unite us in a new way as companions on this journey to lose the fat, and that we all form new friendships today!

Charlie meets Charlie

First of all, I want to thank you all for the avalanche of comments, emails and facebook messages that made my inbox explode. The support found here is beyond words. Thank you all for your tender letters and prayers. Even though it wasn’t a bonafide loss, but rather a major disappointment- your concern and compassion was extraordinary. Again, thank you.

Next, I have got to share something very very very diety with you. Today, my mailman delivered an impulse purchase from my Amazon cart. (Stupid one-click buying) It’s a book by Australian born author Shauna Reid. “The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl.”

To be frank with you all, as I pulled it out of the packaging and took my first look at it I was quite shocked to see it was a beefy 400 pages. I started to read at 2pm. By 8:30pm I had finished the book and was composing a letter to Shauna in my head. Also, I was resisting the urge to go back through the book with a highlighter and color the pertinent parts.

This book spans the entire length of her 350 pound to 175 pound journey, and it is nothing short of remarkable, inspiring, and downright funny. She is quick with the profanities, abundant with the word “crap” (which secures her place in my heart as kindred spirit/hero) and her honesty is gut wrenching- pun intended. And I felt as though I was looking through my own personal journal if I had been born on the other side of the world.

No matter where we are from, the language of the fat chick is universal. We shudder at the same things (airplane seats, café chairs, full length mirrors) and use the same excuses (I’m too fat to …fill in your blank…). We also struggle to see ourselves for who we really are behind and underneath the fat. My goodness, how my head nodded in agreement over and over again while reading her book. So much that my neck has a kink.

And it got me to thinking (which we all know means some wacky illustration is brewing).

What things in my life have I avoided doing because I thought I was too fat?

Not just the little things, like wearing a bikini. You would have to be half off your rocker to WANT to prance around in the little bits of floss they call a bikini these days. I’m talking about the big stuff. The stuff that when I think about it I snicker because it’s so ridiculous to even THINK it, let alone try it for real.

I want to be in a movie. And not as the fat friend.

I want to get married again (same husband) in a stunning dress that makes Matt faint.

I want to sit in the box seats at the Opera and not fear for the lives of those sitting under the box.

I want to get up on a stage and talk to women about life, faith, motherhood, and dieting without being afraid that they can see my backfat rolls from the nosebleed sections.

I want to learn the tango.

I want to be a real published author who isn’t afraid of rejection.

After reading Shauna’s book, I realized something brazen that I had never considered before. I use my current bodyshape as reasons not to reach out for my crazy dreams. But it’s not the fat that is holding me back.

It’s the ME that is underneath the blubber.

I stop myself short of achieving lots of things. I don’t give my best to dieting because I know eventually the new found courage will wear off and I’ll be diving into a package of double stuffed oreos and eating all 3 rows. WHY do I condemn myself before I have even tried?

I don’t dance because I consider myself clumsy and uncoordinated. That has nothing to do with being plump. I will still trip over my own feet when I am skinny. And the contestants on Dance Your a$$ off seem to not care about their size. WHY don’t I dance?

Just because I am a big girl doesn’t mean that I don’t have something encouraging and funny to say to 1000 women. To make gals laugh and feel better. And lots of them have fat rolls too. WHY don’t I speak?

Matt is completely and utterly smitten with me. (No idea why, but I’ll take it.) And I am over the moon for him. WHY do I assume I can’t take his breath away just as I am?

I’m not trying to fill this post with a bunch of psycho babble and introspective crap. My point is that I have blamed the fat all along, when it was Charlie inside who had the real problems.
Real insecurities, paralyzing fears, more phobias than a 4th year psychology textbook.

So what would happen if I stopped blaming the fat for my shortcomings and cowboyed up to the table? What would happen then?

If I stopped acting like the fat was the root of all my problems, could I start being the person I know is fighting to get out?

Can I stop obsessing about the scale? Can I stop the mental self flagellation everytime I eat a bowl of ice cream? Can I live life like it was meant to be lived if I just start living it?

Maybe it was this brush with being knocked up that has changed my perspective on things.

Maybe I realize that disappointments are never going to end- regardless of how positive I am about them- so perhaps the best thing is to put yourself out there for the world to see. They can love me or leave me. And having met the world, they will most likely do a little of both. But I can know that I experienced ever joy and every sorrow there was to experience. And that sounds like a refreshing change. I need to stop fearing the unknowns and start experiencing them.

Here’s my point. I spend hours obsessing about this blog. I hide behind my computer screen and spout out nuggets of wisdom, tell funny stories, and pour my heart out. But when it comes to interacting with others, I don’t do so good on the face to face stuff. I love the virtual relationships I have formed with many of you! These relationships mean so much! But if I met you face to face, I am sorry to say that I am NOTHING like my online persona. I get nervous. I get tongue tied. My jokes are hit and miss, with a 40% average of being worth even saying. Here on my computer, I can obsess about how each word sounds, how the sentence reads, what my message becomes. You can’t do that in real life. Not unless you memorize a script.

And I want to change. With all my heart. I want to be as outgoing as I sound. I want to talk to women face to face and learn their stories. While I can’t rack up frequent flyer miles seeing each one of you, I want to know more about you. So here’s the plan.

MEET UP THURSDAYS

Every Thursday, I will post the stories of 3 women (if I even get that many stories). I want you to share about your struggles with dieting, with being confident, with being yourself- whatever the reason is you keep reading this blog. If you have a personal blog, I will link it. All I ask is that you send a picture of yourself with your story. (Please, though, send the story in with good grammar!) It doesn’t have to be a long piece, but it must be sincere. You don’t have to admit your weight or anything, but I will tell you there is a freedom in doing so- it’s like telling the biggest secret you have ever had to keep. But no pressure. This is going to be a first come, first serve kind of thing. So type fast!

Send your stories and pics to my email – oscbb@yahoo.com and in the subject line put “MEET UP THURSDAYS” so I know it’s something you want shared with my readers. Ooooh, this is making me giddy with excitement! Not to mention nervous as heck- nervous that no one sends in their stories and I will be left with a blogpost to write on Thursday.

So there it is: My feeble attempt to reach out from behind the computer screen and socialize. I’m changing things up in my life. I’m going to start living. And I’m dragging you with me. Cause that’s how I roll.

Speaking of rolls, I am at 182.6- not bad considering I have been moping on the couch since last Thursday! But tomorrow, it’s back to water aerobics and healthy eating. No more pizza and ice cream this week. I’m going to be too busy becoming the woman I’m supposed to be. I can’t wait to meet myself!

AND…I can’t wait to hear your stories!

The TEST

Before I begin this blog post, I would like to state that I am NOT a Christian Blogger. I am a blogger who happens to be a Christian. I did not start this blog to witness to the lost, or to pour out my spiritual beliefs onto unsuspecting readers who thought they were going to read about a fat girl on a diet. That being said, this post is going to deal with my faith in Jesus Christ a LOT, and for good reason. My hope is that no matter what you believe about God, the universe and spiritual things, that you will read this post through to the end- if for no other reason than you want to know what I am dealing with. It is with great humility as a believer that I share this story with you. I am not trying to minister or witness in any manner. This is simply an important story about who I am that needs to be told. Thank you for reading this post.

Wednesday evening I took note that Mother Nature was running very behind schedule. Since I track all of this with my Iphone app “Period Tracker,” I am more on top of my bodily issues than ever. Feeling rather hopeful, I took a pregnancy test about 11pm. It was negative, so I threw it away and went to bed.

To some of you who know my story, this may seem foolish. My tubes have been tied now for over 8 years. For those of you who are new readers, this was not a choice I made for myself. I actually canceled the surgery twice, but my now ex thought it was what I had to do. I was forced into this surgery, being held captive with the threats of not being allowed to see my family anymore. It devastated me 8 years ago, just as much as it devastates me now. And since Matt and I got together, I have prayed and prayed that the surgery would miraculously reverse itself, my fallopian tubes would grow back together, and I would be able to have a child without having surgery to reverse it. And even though Matt and I have taken steps toward having the reversal surgery in the near future, I prayed with all my heart that God would heal me for a decision I did not make for myself.

On Thursday morning, I got the kids off to school, got Matt off to work, and began to get ready for my day. Even though I have been fighting a sinus infection, I knew I wanted to go to water aerobics and work out. So I got my swim suit and towels packed, which were in the bathroom. And while I was in the bathroom, I noticed my forgotten negative pregnancy test in the trash can.

Only it didn’t say negative. It said positive.

The ONLY reason I even looked at it again was because when I was pregnant with Natalie (the 9 year old) I had issues with home pregnancy tests. They kept saying negative. Until 3 or 4 hours later, and then would turn positive. Having this experience, I realized something. I could really be pregnant! This is it! It was starting to look like God had FINALLY answered my prayers!

I got on the phone and called Matt. And knowing that this could be a fluke, I worded the conversation very carefully. “I can’t say that this is for real, but my test turned positive. It says that I am pregnant.”

Of course, he was delighted, but it was a guarded happiness. We both have thought I might be pregnant in the past (random symptoms, late periods), only to find out shortly afterwords with a test that I wasn’t pregnant at all.

But seeing that positive sign on my stick o’ pee, well, it filled my heart with such incredible praise for God that my joy was uncontainable!

I called Julia at work, because she is a prayer warrior and prays for me all the time. (She’s been my best friend for 20 years. She knows I need prayer constantly!) As I shared with her about the positive test, we marveled at the power God has over our lives. I was filled with such fiery faith that I could do so little but repeat over and over, “I knew it! Everyone thought I was crazy for thinking that I could get pregnant, but God heard my prayers and saw my faith! I never stopped believing, and look!”

I made a few other calls to my circle of friends, and then headed out to water aerobics. I am pretty sure that the folks who saw me there were aware of the glow I had. I couldn’t stop smiling, and felt this amazing confidence in who God is rising up in me.

All in all, it was the best morning of being pregnant I have ever had.

I went to help Margaret the Saint at school for a few hours, and was still glowing. But as I was getting ready to leave, I made a pit stop at the bathroom.

And I noticed I was spotting.

Quickly I assured myself “This is implantation bleeding!” Racing home, I discovered that it was not implantation bleeding. It was normal monthly bleeding.

I was NOT pregnant.

I didn’t have time to fall to pieces, because the kids were almost home. I kept asking God to make it stop, don’t let me lose this! In all the months before, we had NEVER had a positive test. And I was sure that God was rewarding me for never thinking it was impossible. I never gave up hope that He would heal me, so surely He finally had.

But the bleeding continued, and pretty soon there was no denying that there would be no baby. Not this month. And I left Matt a voicemail stating that. To say that it broke my heart would be an understatement. It crushed me. I wanted to fall into pieces and cry and scream. But there were still 3 children to tend too, so I had to hold broken self together and get snack, help with homework, and be the kind of Mom who shows grace under fire.

Matt came home, and we were both pretty quiet. He fixed dinner for the kids, and I zoned out for a while. The kids had to go to VBS, and I needed some time to cry. So I offered to take them. I do all my best crying out to Jesus alone in the car. I dropped them off at church, went to Kmart and walked around for a while waiting for the dam to break, but tears wouldn’t come. I went home and immersed myself in my Bible. Normally, I go to the Psalms when I am hurting this badly. But this time, I went to 2 Timothy. And this is what I read from chapter 1.

“4 Recalling your tears, I long to see you, so that I may be filled with joy. 5 I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also. 6 For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. 7 For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. ---
12 That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day.”

So the question was this: Was it wrong for me to be so upset (and angry) with God at that moment? Because I was. I was angry. I was mad because we had a positive test that turned out to be negative. We were so close, and yet discovered that we were just as far away as we were last month.

Pretty soon, the time came to go back to church and pick up the kids. And I got in the van and turned on my ipod. And I heard a song I had written a few months back. It’s a song called “Hannah’s Heart.” I wrote it about my frustration with my infertility. But I had no idea how prophetic that song would become. Listen….

After hearing the first verse, I became a puddle of tears. I began to cry like I wanted to cry when Gma had died, but couldn’t. I poured out my sorrows vicariously through that song.

Was this experience emotionally devastating for me? YES. A hundred times over, YES.

But will it make me any less hopeful? NO. A million times over, NO.

And here’s why. If I had given up on the diet every time I experienced a setback, I would still be 237 pounds. Probably more. Instead, I used that hurt of my failure to push me towards success. And when the pounds eventually started falling off, the success tasted even sweeter because I had tasted the bitterness of failure.

If Jesus stopped loving me the first time I sinned, I would have been given over to my evil nature the afternoon after I was baptized as a believer. But He constantly picked me up, brushed me off, and cleansed me again and again.

I don’t doubt that I will become pregnant. Not for one second. In fact, this has done nothing but bolster my belief that it IS possible. Just not today. God chose for today to let me go through this experience of tasting the bitterness. And I know that when it does happen, (and it will) we will be all the more blessed because here on earth, every sign pointed to its improbability. Therefore it could only be by the scarred hands of my Savior that it could come to pass. And it will be even more of a miracle. And that will be my testimony. How it looked impossible, but HE did it anyway.

I know some of you are dealing with infertility too. Or maybe you are desperately trying to lose weight and beginning to feel like it’s impossible.

It’s not. It feels that way, I know. But there is nothing we can’t do when we call upon the Name of the Lord and let our hearts dwell in His house. We are more than conquerors. We are given the keys to the Kingdom. We are rewarded for our faith. Especially when we are faced with the mountains of impossibility and we believe anyway.

I hope that the story of what I went through this past couple of days encourages you. While it still hurts my heart, I know this was a life lesson God didn’t want me to miss.

For those of you who aren’t believers, I know this all sounds crazy. But I have been through far too much with Him to think that life should ever be ordinary.

Please, don’t give up on yourself or your journey. Seek the extraordinary. Attempt the impossible. Look deep within yourself and keep trying to win over your struggles and the things that seem impossible. And when you get to the deepest part of you that you never knew was there, I pray that He meets you there- showing He was fighting right alongside you the entire time.

A Fishy Game of Clue: The Big Bang and Boom Theory

First of all, I am down to 181.6 as of this morning! I think I really am back on track this time. I’m working out, eating right, and all that jazz. It’s coming off slowly, but it’s back to coming off. If I can keep an average loss of 1.5 pounds a week, I could be at 138 in 30 weeks!!! (That’s only a 7 months. I can do 7 months.) (I WILL DO 7 MONTHS!)

Second of all, I did not go to water aerobics today because I am having major sinus issues again. Our weed pollen count is through the roof here in central Illinois, and it’s driving my nose crazy. I can’t go anywhere without my trusty roll of toilet paper. Cause I’m too cheap to buy tissues.

And finally, Mother Nature has yet to hit. Of course, the one month my purse is packed and ready for her, she’s running late. What a beast she is! Until then, I am dealing with residual water retention and frantic checking of panties for her arrival. (And random keys…)

OK, so on Monday night we discovered that our 8 year old son Tim had lost his pet fish. Needless to say, the actual fish outlived the excitement and promise of responsibility of said fish at time of purchase. In otherwords, Tim usually forgot he had a fish and mom fed it and cleaned the tank.

I had moved “Sonny the Beta” and his small tank into the kitchen on Monday morning so I could give him or her fresh water. Again. Betas are nasty little fish. Their water gets mucky so fast! Anyhoo, when I went to clean the tank later that day, “Sonny” had gone belly up. I put him in a Tupperware container with some water to dump him into the toilet for his sailor’s burial without flushing those stupid teeny tiny rocks in our commode.

I went into the kids’ room and told Tim his fish had croaked. Of course, I said it a lot more sympathetic than that, because Tim takes death pretty hard. I rubbed his back as I told him, waiting for the waterworks to start flowing and the hysterics to hit of replacing Sonny immediately.

Instead, Tim wanted to see the fish body and poke at it. To make sure he was really dead and not sleeping. We went to the kitchen and looked in the plastic container. And Tim poked. And he looked.

I asked him if he wanted to flush Sonny or bury it. (Eitherway, I was already planning on having a fishy funeral. We once buried a fish outside in the frozen ground. It’s our family’s grieving process, I guess) Instead, Tim requested that we wait till morning just in case the fish comes around and starts swimming again. I told him that wasn’t likely, but that was fine. And I kept the lid off the Tupperware so that the dead fish wouldn’t suffocate. Just in case he had taken up a new hobby of swimming upside down.

The kids went to VBS, I went walking with Tricky Nikki, and Matt spent the evening on the computer. And the whole family went to bed.

But I woke up at 3am with a ferocious headache. So I grabbed some sinus medicine from the bathroom and went into the kitchen to get a drink. I didn’t think about turning on the lights, because I could see well enough.

What I couldn’t see was that Puppy (our family cat) had knocked over the “possibly living but most definitely dead” fish’s Tupperware container off the counter and on the floor. And as I stepped with my bare feet into the kitchen, I slipped and fell on my kiester.

BIG BANG AND BOOM.

I stood up quickly and flipped on the kitchen light, looked at the water all over the floor and figured Puppy had made a sushi meal out of Sonny. I wiped up the floor and then realized my foot was still wet. I lifted my foot to wipe it off.

And I found Sonny.

Squished on the bottom of my foot.

And in-between my toes a little.

Which made my headache worse.

And I kinda wanted to throw up.

So there I am, sitting in my nightgown on the kitchen floor, wiping fish guts off my foot at 3am. And trying to figure out how to tell Tim I had completely decimated his “possibly living but most definitely dead” fish and not have him think there was fishy murder afoot. (Groan)

I had wiped my foot clean, but once you step on a dead fish and have it pop like a zit under the weight of you, you realize the desperate need for antibacterial soap. So I headed over to the sink to grab the washcloth and some soap.

And that was when the mouse came running up from the bottom of the kitchen sink.

And I screamed. Not because I am scared of mice, but because the situation had surprised me. All of a sudden, walking through the house with residual dead fish guts to the bathroom didn’t seem like a bad idea. So I heeled it to the bathroom and cleaned up.

I think I have figured out what happened. This is exactly like the game of Clue.

The family went to bed. Puppy went into the kitchen and heard a mouse. She jumped on the counter to catch the mouse, (because otherwise she knows she is dead meat if I catch her on my counter) and the mouse hid under my skillet in the sink, which was waiting to go in the dishwasher. Meanwhile, Puppy was probably pacing on the counter, trying to figure out how to get to the mouse, and knocked Sonny and his/her Tupperware container on the floor. Which knowing Puppy, probably scared the living daylights out of her. To which she hopped down off the counter and ran to our bedroom to hide. On top of me. Which woke me up, and made me realize that I had a headache. To which I went into the kitchen to get a drink and stepped on the “possibly living but most definitely dead” Sonny with a big bang and a boom. Meanwhile the mouse was still shaking under my skillet, and realized that if it didn’t get out of there soon, the sleepy looking blonde monster was going to find it and kill it. To which it hopped out of the sink and ran for better cover and made the sleepy blonde monster scream.


I don’t make this stuff up, people. Truth is fishier than fiction.

All's quiet on the home front....

So I skipped water aerobics this morning. I had a valid reason, though.

I fell back asleep this morning after getting the kids on the bus. I was sitting in my chair matching socks, and I woke up and it was noon. I figured since I didn’t get to take a birthday nap yesterday (yes, yesterday was my birthday. I turned 25. AGAIN.) I was counting this one as a gift. Plus, I had NO BIRTHDAY CAKE, nor cupcakes, or cake batter or icing. That is a first. I did, however, have a big bowl of broccoli. (BTW- thank you all for your b-day wishes on Facebook. I appreciated all of them!)

I also am a little hesitant to go bouncing in the water. Aunt Flow should be here any day, and while I am completely open to writing about my humiliation on the blog, starting my period in the pool was one blog post I’m not willing to risk. Mostly because I ADORE water aerobics. And I want to be welcomed with open arms. Not with fear and trembling.

So the weekend went fairly well. I did bounce back up a little bit (back to 185) however, I indulged with egg salad and a birthday bread bowl. I am back on track today, and as soon as Mother Nature drops off her gift, I will start sliding down. Because I feel fantastic!

My body is starting to tighten up again. It had gotten really flabby over the last year, and just after a few weeks of water aerobics I can feel the difference. I can’t see it yet, but I can feel muscles aching that haven’t ached for a long while. And I can feel the cottage cheese on my rear moving closer together. That’s a good thing.

Just to update you all on a few other points of interest:

1. Still no word about the Crystal Light commercial contest on Poptent. Hopefully there will be an update sometime this week. I’m doing my best to be patient. And we all know how patient I am about stuff like this.

2. I am getting my volunteer hours in at the kids’ school. Each family is required to get 26 hours in per year, and I am already at 9.5 hours. So there is something productive!

3. Matt and I are working on getting our credit cleaned up so we can buy a house in the next few months. We have fallen in love with one, and we are doing our best to figure out how to get it. You may also recall about the Diet Credit Report post I wrote a while back. I had my metabolism tested a few weeks ago, and I learned that my body burns about 2000 calories per day if I moderately exercise for 30 minutes. So as long as I stay in the 1400 zone (not counting veggies unless they are starchy), I will lose weight. Unfortunately, I struggle with 5 days of the week being satisfied with 800-900 calories. It’s not because I am starving myself, but because my metabolism is so slow. I just don’t get terribly hungry most days. My goal for this week is to eat breakfast every day. That is hard, because normally I fill up on coffee until noon. I think this is a good way to start changing the way my body handles calories.

I feel like this post is nothing but information slapped together. Sorry, gang! I have nothing exciting to tell you at this time. No hiking trips gone awry, no big news, no humiliation at the Y- just a simple quiet weekend with nothing exciting.

Although Margaret the Saint and Dan the Man did give me an emergency fanny pack for the next time we go out into the woods for my birthday… that was pretty funny! And I got to hang out with my bestie on Saturday while Matt and Tim were on a fishing trip in Indiana. Basically, I had a normal, low key weekend. Sorry if you were hoping for a big hoopla or something ridiculous. I-for one- found it to be a relief!

So how did your weekends go? Anything exciting or amusing happen to you?

Oh-Key-DOH!-Key

I use the word mental in this post several times. I know, it’s overkill, but half of my issues are all in my head. So it works. My apologies to any thesaurus lovers out there.

It all started because Tim had been playing with my combination lock I usually take to the YMCA.

I have been attending water exercising and water aerobics as faithfully as I can for the past 2 weeks. (Which equates to 5 times out of 10. Pretty good for me.) And the water aerobics have been really pushing me. I’m sore, but I keep going back. I love them. And I will go as often as I can.

But back to the lock. I couldn’t find my regular one for the locker. So I borrowed one from the Y. (which is free- you just give them your Y card and they hold that as collateral until you return the lock.) It was a regular Master Lock that comes with a key. Not a big deal.

But it soon became a big deal.

I got my locker all situated, put the borrowed lock on and secured my purse (which has nothing valuable in it, except for emergency tampons, which always seem to come out of the wrapper between one period to the next. What’s up with that?) and then had to figure out what to do with the key. Lots of times, the YMCA’s keys have one of those stretchy curly-Q bands on them so you can wear it on your wrist. This one didn’t. It was just a key. So I did what I always do with small stuff that I need to carry on my person.

I shoved the key into the bra like area of my swim suit.

I showered up, and headed out to water aerobics.

Admittedly, the teacher who leads the water aerobics is a “Jillian Michaels” in her own right. Not that she’s mean like Jillian… on the contrary. She’s smiley and nice. But she has a job to do, and that job is to whip my fat butt into shape. She is REALLY good at her job. She’s an Aqua Jillian.

So we start out by water walking, which is not tough, but you have to weave and bob around people because the class is packed. There are lots of the senior set that attend the class, because the water keeps them from wrecking their joints. I love listening to the older folks as they talk and discuss things- the weather, the pool temperature, the weather, the pool temperature- you hear the same topics coming up again and again.

There is also a group of teachers that attend 4 days a week. Some are retired, some aren’t- and I have to say they are hysterical. I like to gravitate towards them, but they are all tall gals, so they stay near the deep end. I am short with natural flotation devices, so I have to stay in the shallows or I don’t get a good workout. But any chance I have to listen in on their candid conversations, I do. Because I hear gems like this:

“I count carbs. I count them as they go right into my mouth.”

(While discussing the carb count of tortillas on wraps and suggesting using lettuce as the wrap device) “Lettuce was NEVER meant to be bread.”

“After a few months of this class, one day you will flex your arm and actually see a muscle!”

I’m telling you, these gals are a hoot.

So I enjoy the company, I enjoy the workout, and water aerobics are definitely my new exercise of choice.

Back to Aqua Jillian and the key.

We have gotten through our water walking, and we all grab our “noodles.” For those of you who don’t swim, this is a picture of noodles.

And we use the noodles for resistance training. Noodles- like hope and breasts- float and pop up to the surface. So we push them down in various fashions to work our arms, legs, and Aqua Jillian has even figured out a way to get sneaky sit ups with them. Ingenuous. Painful, but ingenuous.

We start our noodle workout and the water is splashing everywhere. Add to the splashing water that every time I go up and down, the under ridge of my boobs slap the water. They get knocked around pretty good during the workout. I am forever splashing myself in the face.

About half way through the workout, when my arms are good and worn out, it’s time to trade in the long noodles for the ones that are cut into foot long pieces. We do individual arm workouts with those. As I grab the short noodles, I did a quick pat of the chest area to make sure the key was still in place.

It was not.

In fact, I couldn’t locate the key.

Assuming it had fallen out while I was busy splashing around, I headed back to the place I had been before in the water and began doing a silent search with my foot. Feeling around on the bottom for the missing key, and scanning the water whenever 30 people weren’t splashing around, which makes the bottom hard to see.

With no key in sight (or on foot) I figured out that maybe the key had gone someplace else in my swim suit. Sometimes things fall to the under regions of my long gravity ravaged mammaries, and I find them later when I remove my bra. But the swim suit goes from my neck to my legs, so I figured it was somewhere in the torso region.

Meanwhile, Aqua Jillian is still working us with our short noodles. Bicep curls and chest flies and stuff like that. The whole time I am mentally scanning my body to feel if the key is in there.

By the end of the class my arms hurt, my abs hurt, and I felt thoroughly worked over. And the teacher group hangs out after and chit chat in the water while the old ladies shower. There are only 8 showers in the locker room, and 29 ladies in the class. So you stand a chance at getting a shower if you wait about 20 minutes.

So the teachers are talking, and I am half listening. Under the water, I look like I am rubbing my tummy and my breasts. BECAUSE I AM STILL LOOKING FOR MY KEY.

Finally I give up, and after scanning the pool floor one last time, I admit defeat and get out of the pool. Mentally I am preparing myself for walking home in nothing but a swimsuit and towel, and then realizing that I can even get into my house without my keys, which were in my purse in the locker that now had no key… well, it was going to be an interesting morning if nothing else.

As I am climbing up the ladder to get out and face my impending doom, something sharp and pointy sticks me right in the goody patch.

THE KEY!!!

I raced into the shower (because I can’t go digging in my crotchal region in public) and whipped off my swim suit. And there was the key, which had slid into the little 3 inch tan panty lining that all swimsuits have.

Giggling because this is the kind of stuff that only seems to happen to me, I work the key out of the lining, and decide that it would be kind of me to wash it off. I probably spent 10 minutes scrubbing the key in the shower. Because I am considerate.

I got dried off and dressed, and headed upstairs to the main desk. Sheepishly, I handed the girl my lock and key, and asked for my Y card back. At least it was better than when the boobs demagnetized my hotel key, but secretly humiliating none the less.

And as I walked to my crappy van, I laughed some more. Because I never thought that my feminine parts would hold the key to anything but unlocking Mother Nature’s wrath.

As soon as Tim came home from school, I had him locate my lock (which does NOT require a key) and put it in my workout bag.

So that was a KEY lesson learned!

(BTW, Weight is at 182. Getting better!)

Risky Business

So what does a woman back on track with her dieting look like?

Kinda like this…

Bitten up on her face with mosquito bites, dark circles under her eyes, and a look of exhaustion.

Isn’t it beautiful?

Something is drastically different within me. I can’t explain it, per se, but there has been some sort of cocoon that has opened up in my dieting life.

I am pretty sure that it has to do with experiencing sheer terror during our recent “accidental camping trip,” but it seemed to seal the deal for me. It didn’t start the change, and yet it sure made things a lot more clear in my head.

Here’s the deal. One week ago, I was terrified of being thin. I know, it sounds crazy. But I was. I was scared of dealing with something new and unknown in my life. Most of you know that I have never been smaller than 162 or 163, and that was just for a couple of days. The majority of my life, I have been hanging out in the 170+ club. Lots of times, the 200+ club. But never the 160- club. That club scared me out of my wits.

For me, and lots of you too- we like to complain about our fat, but we hide behind it. We hide inside it. It keeps us from taking risks. It makes sure we don’t set out to do something crazy. It protects us. It hinders us, but we let it.

So after fighting lots of invisible foes in the forest, I realized something. Being scared of being skinny is all in my head.

Sure, this is logical to ALL of us, including myself. It seems like such a simple thing to overcome. But it hasn’t been. This blog bears testament to that fact. I would get close to that land of 160, then I ballooned back up. Why? Because I WAS AFRAID.

If you aren’t a fat chick, or have never been one, you won’t understand this. The rest of us feel this fear every day. Dieting opens us up for failure. It’s easier to shove oreos in your mouth than to risk dieting, then blowing it, and falling flat on your face. I know that. I felt that too.

But not anymore.

I am currently hanging out at 183, a new personal best for the months of July and August, and I am pushing myself. I am no longer making excuses, and I am taking risks. (Just not in the wilderness) Today my legs HURT. I could barely walk when I woke up. But I made myself go and do water aerobics. And then I made myself swim a few extra laps. And tonight, I am going to make my family do Fat Girl Yoga before bedtime. Why?

Because that night in the woods, I faced my fears head on. And when the morning came, things weren’t nearly as scary as they seemed. In fact, although that night was the most traumatic night I have had in 7 years, that night showed me I have NOTHING to be afraid of.

Being skinny will be a change. But I won’t be worse off for it. In fact, I will walk out of the dieting wilderness and see the dawn of a new life breaking. It will be amazing! And I just know that I will have much more strength- physically, mentally, and emotionally- when it happens. I will know that I faced my imaginary foes when it was dark, and I couldn’t see what was coming at me. I will fight my way through until the path ends, and I am free from this chubby body.

I don’t care if it means that people see my cottage cheesy thighs while doing water aerobics. Or if my boobs slap the water like Shamu’s tail at Sea World. It doesn’t matter if I don’t feel like pushing myself. It’s gonna happen. Because the only thing I have been afraid of is myself. And that’s not going to cut it any longer.

I’m counting calories, fat, and fiber. I’m biting and writing. I’m sweating and swearing. But I’m tired of the way things have been for the last year. I’m tired of being in dieting limbo. I wanna see the end of the road. I want to see the sun rise of a new life.

It’s a risky business, folks. And I am finally ready to risk it all. And share my business with you along the way.

My goal for the next week is to get back into the 170s. And it’s GOING to happen. Cause I am ready to start doing what I know is right, and that means the weight is going to fall off of me. It always does if I apply myself. And I’m looking forward to hitting some huge milestones very soon. And getting back into my skinny jeans. And having those become my fat jeans.

I have no idea how to end this blog post, except to say that every encouraging word means the world to me. You readers make this journey so much better. Those of you who share, who nag (but I need the accountability, so keep it up!) who just let me know I made you laugh- every one of you keeps me inspired. And so, I shall close with this:

Thank you. I can’t do this without you.

Charlie and the Not-so Happy Trails

I am not exploiting my family’s trauma for a blog post. I want to make that very clear before we begin. However, as we were driving on our way home, we were cracking jokes about it. By the time we all were safe in our crappy little house, we were really laughing about it. Apparently this family has learned to laugh through the rough times. I have never been so proud of my little guy and gals. Or my heroic husband. So now, we shall begin our story.

BTW- This is a long one. You might want to get a cup of coffee and go pee first.

It started off as a last minute idea to take a family walk. We were all ready to have some well deserved family time, and taking a walk together seemed like such a quaint idea. I will also let you know that my family has long made fun of me for constantly carrying my iPhone with me. Making jokes like “It’s not a part of the family, Mom. Put it down.”

We decided as we were driving together that we should go to our county park and do a quick trail, at Tim's insistance. This is something we have done before, and most of the trails only take about a half hour to an hour. It was 7pm by the time we got there, and we found an unmarked trail and started off on our journey.

At first, it was really fun! We were all getting exercise, talking and laughing together, and decided this should be our new Sunday night routine. The trail kept getting longer, and we kept following the arrows. Pretty soon, we realized the sun was setting, so we started booking it. I have never power walked a trail until last night, but I was holding hands of kids and keeping their legs moving. And secretly trying to code to Matt that I was getting worried. The whole time I was writing the blog post in my head (as those of us who are serious bloggers do) about how dieting is like a trail that you aren’t sure where the end is, and you have to keep pressing on until you find the end. That is NOT where this blog is going today.

Pretty soon the trail got MIGHTY dark. I couldn’t see the trail anymore. It was at this point that my sweet little mini-me (Natalie) took the lead. I have never- in the entire almost 10 years she has been alive- seen such courage from my little lioness. She grabbed my hand and said “C’mon. I can still see the trail. We can do this.” And she led us a little further along. For the next 30 minutes, she was directing our family where to step, where not to step, and leading us through the darkness. Usually she is scared of her own shadow. Not during the time she was the head honcho, though. That girl had not one ounce of fear in her. I gained a new respect for her. She’s going to be ok out there in the world.

But pretty soon, it got too dark for her to see too. And she said, “Daddy, can you still see? I can’t tell where the trail is now.” He bravely took the lead, we all made a human chain and pressed on as long as we could. Matt said, “Honey, does your cell have reception out here?” “Yes, it does, but it’s in the car. We were having ‘FAMILY TIME,’ remember? I didn’t bring it with me!”

We had no phone, no flash lights, no water bottles, no clock or watch, and soon we would discover we had no guts, either.

Now, I had this crazy notion in my head that pretty soon, the park employees would see our car parked there after hours and know something was up. That they would come looking for us. So that is exactly what I told the kids. The park rangers would come find us. If not, God would keep us safe. No question about that.

As we sat down to finally rest, because it was too dark to fumble through the woods any longer, Matt said he would try to find water. He promised he would stay where we could hear him. The kids and I sat down in the pitch dark, grabbed hands, and prayed our tired little butts off. This part of the evening, still being confident that the local rangers would find us, I was confident that we were safe. So we prayed, and I shared with the kids that I pray for the friends they make, their future spouses, and everything about them. It was a fantastic time to tell them how much I love each and every one of them, and that I appreciate who they are as people. Not just as our kids, but as humans. That part of the night was amazing.

Pretty soon Matt ventured back, saying he couldn’t find water, and we would have to think of other things.

So we started telling stories. Matt told the kids that he had accidently eaten a bowl of ants on Saturday, to which they laughed uncontrollably. (And yes, he did. Everyone makes fun of me for putting boxes of cereal into containers. It’s to keep the ants out. One box didn’t make it in the containers like it was supposed to, and the ants got to it. Matt ate half a bowl before he noticed they were crawling over his peanut butter crunch.) With everyone in such high spirits, we decided to lay down on the poison ivy infested forest floor and wait for dawn.

Now, there a few fears I have. I hate being in wide open spaces, I am scared of dogs of any breed that I don’t know, and I am scared of ghosty stuff. I don’t watch horror movies. One time Matt told me that “The Blair Witch Project” wasn’t scary. So I watched it. And he then had to hold my hand as I peed in the bathroom cause I was so freaked out.

So with my fear of wide open spaces, fear of unknown dogs, and ghosts, we were supposed to fall asleep on the ground, covered with spiders and sticks up our rears and possible coyotes. When it is pitch black in the forest, you can hear every sound the creatures make. Raccoons climbing up trees, deer rubbing antlers on tree trunks, rabbits hopping around- every sound made us jump. I seriously thought at one point that I was going to have a heart attack. The kids were praying for Jesus to return, for the park rangers to rescue us, and for us to get home because they were scared. It’s hard to put on a brave face for your kids when you are terrified out of your wits. But Matt and I did our best. Each of us laid on the outside, with the kids huddled together in the middle, so anything that might eat us would get to mom and daddy first. No coyote was going to drag away one of our babies.

We couldn’t sleep. We were cold, thirsty and scared. And it was DARK. You couldn’t really see your own hand in front of your face. Barely. And the moon made freaky shadows onto the ground. Natalie mentioned that one shadow looked like a body without a head. It did, and I told her she was scaring her brother. Nope. She was scaring her mom. I peed my pants a little.

So we laid there, and pretty soon we heard the inevitable pack of nearby coyotes. Howling. Running. Plotting to eat us alive. We all got worried then, and each of us (except for Matt) was crying as quietly as we could, so as not to attract coyotes closer.

Pretty soon, we must have all fallen asleep. I don’t know for how long, but I awoke to the sound of footsteps going right in front of my head, and Natalie saying “MOMMY!!!”

So I started screaming. And Natalie started screaming. And then the whole family, including Matt, got on our feet and began screaming. For a full solid minute at least until we gained our composure.

We realized that we were super jumpy and it was probably just a rabbit or a coon or a possum meandering through the woods. And with all of our screaming, we were certain we had either scared it off or sent it into little woodland creature heaven.

Pretty soon, we were all standing in a circle, our backs to the middle so everyone could watch for something creeping through the woods, with Mama and Daddy holding all three kids at once.

And that was right when my stomach growled really really loud.

And Natalie started screaming. And everyone started screaming. And I was worried that something was really attacking us.

Now, I have never seen Matt jump into action quite like this before. He was 5 places all at once. He was behind us, in front of us and on all sides within split seconds. He was screaming and throwing his life and body in front of our unseen attacker on all sides.

Which happened to be my growling stomach.

The kids saw him protecting them, and I saw him protecting us, and he officially became our hero of the night. Pretty soon, we all figured out what had happened, stopped screaming (again), and calmed down. It was then decided that as soon as my stomach growled again, I was to softly say “tummy- it’s my tummy” so that no one started screaming again. We also had our 5th family prayer circle. This time facing outwards and keeping our eyes open.

The worst part was we had no clock to tell us what time it was. For all we knew, it was barely midnight. It was the longest night of our lives.

But pretty soon, the light began to change, and we could almost see the trail again. It was close enough for us, and we began walking again. As we walked, the trail began to open up from a narrow passage to a wide path, and the dawn began to break. Right as we got to a spot where we could clearly see the lake, we saw the sun rising. It was gorgeous. And we saw it together as a family, still holding hands. Confident that we had faced utter darkness and unknown foes together, the dawn was here, and we didn’t wind up as coyote food. We kept walking for another hour, crossed the dam, and pretty soon we saw asphalt. Sweet civilized asphalt. I have never been so relieved.

By the time we found our car, we must have walked at least 12 miles. And checking my phone (which was in the glove box) we saw it was 6:02am. We piled in and drove out of there headed to our sweet little house. I called the kids in from school, and then called my mom. It happens to be her birthday.

Happy birthday, Margaret the Saint. Your kids and grand kids didn’t get eaten by coyotes.

We got home, Matt fixed hot chocolate for the kids, and I helped them with showers, scrubbing any part of them that came into contact with poison ivy. They were something akin to the shower scene from the movie “Silkwood.” But no one complained. I washed backs and made sure the kids got every bit of their body that was exposed washed off. So far, no one seems to be breaking out from the ivy. Thank heavens.

I gave everyone in the house (including mom and daddy) a Benadryl, made oatmeal for all the kids (which Tim didn’t eat. He tried…. by the way, his shirt says "Every great idea I have gets me in trouble" and it couldn't be more ironic.)



and we went to bed about 8am. I lost 3 pounds yesterday (I think from the constant shaking with terror) and we are all fine with hating nature.

Matt asked me before we fell asleep, “So, do you really think we should do this every Sunday night?”

I cannot repeat my response, but let’s just leave it as being in the negative. From now on, THIS FAMILY is hiking at the mall.

I’m leaving the coyotes for the wolves.

Hump day report

Things are improving.

185.2

BETTER. Not great, but better.

I am back hardcore with the food aspect of dieting, and last night finally kahonaed up and did Fat Girl Yoga with Amy (our 10 year old). This morning we could both feel it in our arms and back- Amy informed me she had squeezed her kidneys too hard.

I did too, darling. My kidneys are screaming.

So this morning I am heading off to Old Lady Water Aerobics. I fully intend to have my butt kicked by the blue hairs. That is what happens when you go in with youth and pride. You get your rear served to you by someone 50 years your senior. But at this point, with my knees and back messed up and a tad bit achy, water aerobics is my best option.

AND- I have a new swim suit. I FINALLY found one built for a girl with a long saggy boobylicious build. It has a mesh lining that covers me to my neck. Nothing will be floating to the surface in this baby. I'll post pictures later. Maybe. If I find the courage to show you how untoned I have become.

Seriously, go a few months without exercising and your nice firm muscles turn into moosh. It's pathetic. That's ok, though. I'm working on it. I don't mind being mooshey if I'm in transition. And I can feel it this time. I'm gonna lick this thing.

Food went well yesterday. I found a new application for my Iphone that allows me to see exactly what I am eating. And the calorie intake. And the fat intake. Scary. The cool thing is I can upload it so you all can see my food log at the end of the week. (Just in case you are nosey like me. I like to see what other people eat.) I'm planning to upload it all on Saturday night.

So today, the short list is water aerobics, a quick trip to walgreens to get more gummy vitamins, and clean in my room a bit more. Cause I love my husband. He's awesome. And he would like a bedroom where you don't have to scavenger hunt for t-shirts and socks. I think he should have it.

So- how are things on your hump day?

Phasing the Truth

(Photo by my 16 year old nephew Tyler. I love this picture. Feels like where I have been for a year!)

Phase one: Get really motivated, start a weight loss blog, and lose a crap ton of weight.

Phase two: Get unmotivated, bounce back up to 186.8 and hang out within a 15 pound spread for a year. A FLIPPING YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Phase three: Look at a really crappy picture of yourself, realize how bloated you feel, recognize that your knees hurt again, and get your fat butt back on the dieting wagon.
Guess which phase I’m in?

If you guessed three, you’d be right. The truth is I’m tired of thinking about, writing about, and dealing with the diet. I’m so sick of it, I just want to finish this. Get it over with. Make myself get down and dirty with the diet and just do it.

So what does that mean?

That means OBSESSION with all things diet. Making up with Jillian. Eating Smart Ones. Drinking Crystal Lite Pure Fitness. Indulging on Quaker Pure Delights Raspberry Mocha Café Bars instead of Butterfingers. (Holy cow, have you tried those yet? 2 weight watcher points per bar, and they are delectable!) Eating FACON (pronounced Fake-un) sandwiches.

Yeah, I said Facon.

Cause in order for me to maintain any semblance of control over my diet, I need to skip the bacon. I KNOW what eat this, not that says. But I know my body. It craves more than just one strip of bacon. So I tried these last night for the first time.

The review is mixed.

They do NOT replace bacon in my book. However, once I am in a state of utter desperation for something “bad” in my diet (and we all know it happens) these are not the worst case scenario. I read an online review about the facon, and it made me laugh pretty hard. Cause it’s all true. Yet these strips of smokey chemical madness only have 1 weight watcher point per serving. So they stay on the short list. Plus, Facon is very fun to say. Facon facon facon.

Last night, while talking with my BFF Julia, she encouraged me to start writing everything I eat. My friend Tanya did too. Julia even challenged me to put it all here on the blog. (She understands that I behave when publicly open to humiliation) And although I am all about full disclosure here on the blog, there is no way I can commit to writing down on OSCBB things as I eat them. I’m not nearly that disciplined.

What I can do is find creative ways to keep you informed about my eating habits. So here’s what I will do. If I cheat- I’m putting it on the blog. If you don’t hear anything, I’m in the clear. But if I tell you I’ve eaten something rotten, or go over on my points for the day, you will hear about it. Pinkie swear.

SO that’s where I am. Starting over. From the new square one. No more painful challenges I watch sail by me. No 2 pound goals per week. I’m just sticking with the Weight Watchers program. 23 points per day, with an extra 35 a week to binge on, and finding ways to get activity points in. Tricky Nikki and Lee Ann and Theresa are going to help hold me accountable. I am not starting up the walking group again, but we are going to find times to get together and walk. My friend Kara is going to be at the YMCA more too, so I can meet her there some mornings. It’s all a good thing.

186.8 feels awful to say. It looks worse in the mirror. Especially when some of the final contestants on “Dance your a$$ off” weigh less than me now. Yikes. How the mighty have fallen.

That’s ok, though. I’m determined to stay on track till Christmas. Hardcore weight watching. It’s about time to dance to the finish line. I’ve been dragging my two left feet for far too long anyway.

Mother Daughter Mug Shot

It started with a prophetic facebook status.

“My life is a series of misadventures.”

And this statement rang true today, loud and clear.

Sticky too.

Amy (our oldest daughter) and I made a quick run to Elder-Beerman, the local upscale department store, to get her a white cami shirt. The girl is blossoming this summer and it’s sending Matt and I into parental conniptions. But she is enjoying these leaps and bounds into adulthood, and we have no choice but to let her grow up as much as we can stand.

Amy is one of those kids who follows the rules. All the time. You tell her to do something a certain way, she goes through every step. Because of this , she is probably the most reliable kid in the world. She is working this summer on losing her baby fat, and when I suggest that she needs to give up the chips and have a salad, she does it every time. How I raised a child with that much willpower, I will never know.

So we were in the van, discussing where to get the cami, and we saw that Elder-Beerman was having a yellow dot sale. Everything is marked on sale, and you get an additional 60% off the sale price. We thought that would be a great place to start.

Within 3 minutes she found what she needed, but it was Mama who lingered, enjoying alone time with my budding daughter. It reminded me of all the trips Margaret the Saint and I made to the exact same store years ago. Although Amy is nothing like me, so there wasn’t any fighting or tears or begging with this Mother and Daughter Duo.

I found a clearance shirt too, and happily we headed up to the counter to bring our shopping journey to an end. However there was no tag on my shirt, so one of the associates headed off to find another one like it. Setting my coffee mug on the counter (I don’t go anywhere without my coffee before 3pm) I started telling her I had looked for another one like it, and couldn’t find one, so I didn’t know the price.

She asked what area of the store we found the shirt, and I circled around to point to a corner.
As I was circling around, with my hand gracefully extended to act the part of a hoyty-toyty shopper in a department store, that was when Amy and I got the most interesting science lesson.

When a coffee mug is precariously placed on a 4 foot high counter, and it gets knocked over, the 32 ounce travel mug does not simply fall to the floor. In fact, it bounces on the floor, the lid pops off, and 32 ounces of coffee immediately explodes onto the floor.

Thankfully, we were not near clothes. It hit tile floor.

Unfortunately, it does splash on your blossoming and highly emberassable 10 year old daughter, and she stands there looking like her mother has just committed a hainus crime of prision sentence proportions.

So there we are, standing in the middle of a seemingly posh department store, in a puddle of French vanilla humiliation. We couldn’t run. You can’t run on wet tile. Plus we still wanted our shirts. As associate number 1 scurried off to look for a twin for my unmarked shirt, associate number 2 had to stand there with us and try to make conversation for the next 5 minutes.

Customer number 1 (obviously not my daughter and I) was giving me the stink eye. You could tell she was glad it wasn’t her, and moved seamlessly from utter sympathy – “were you drinking hot chocolate, dear?” “No, it was French vanilla coffee. I don’t go anywhere without it.” “Perhaps there are some places you should consider leaving it at home.”- to full on condemnation.

I was left wondering how much longer the janitorial staff was going to take to the scene of our crime, and Amy was still standing there with her jaw hanging on the floor.

And I started to laugh. And the associate number 2 began to giggle. Customer one did not see the humor in our predicament.

Meanwhile, customers 2 through 7 lined up behind us. (of course. My shame is never private.) And none of them seemed to get the joke either. I could feel their eyes drilling holes in the back of my head as they stood in line for the worst checkout in the county.

Amy finally began to laugh herself, making comments about how she can’t take her mom anywhere (she’s right) and telling herself that at least she was getting a shirt out of the deal.

Associate number 1 finally returned, announcing that she couldn’t find another shirt like the one I had, and rang up another shirt in its place. We stood around for a minute after we checked out, waiting for the clean up crew. I have no idea why we did that, it just seemed like the right thing to do. I was hoping my daughter would get some sort of morality lesson out of this. Maybe “we clean up our own messes” or “you stay till the job is finished.” However, with no mop or paper towels to help us, all we could do was LOOK at our mess. MY MESS.

Amy grinned and said “I told you to leave it in the van.”

I could hear customers 2 through 7 snicker that I had been schooled by my 10 year old daughter, and I decided that the moral lesson was over.

Walking out, Amy giggled and said, “You better buy what you want now, Mom. I don’t think we will be allowed back in here ever again.”

I looked at my daughter and said, “We will just add this store to the list, honey.”

(Big Lots, Big R, Elder-Beerman)