Dieting through Disappointment

Well, I have to tell you that this has been one of the highest AND lowest weeks of my diet so far. I did something miraculous early on Monday- I actually weighed 175.6 and was 3 pounds less than Matt.

Then, the Olive Garden happened.

My Mom, Margaret the saint, had the best of intentions as she took me and the 3 kids on Tuesday afternoon to the Garden, and I didn’t over do it at all. Or so I thought, till I weighed myself later on that day.

180.

Ug! Right back up there where I don’t need to be. And it seemed to hold me there for the rest of this week. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get back down to that 175 I had been aching for.
I know you all love me to pieces, and that is the only reason why I am about to share the next statement.

Prepare for Ugly Truths ahead.

I struggle with the thought of diet pills.

Whether it’s Dexatrim, Slimquick, or even the pills I got last year off the internet in desperation, I want so badly to take them.

But I don’t.

I dream that I will take a week’s worth of capsules and be past this plateau that keeps haunting me.

But I won’t.

Maybe it’s the commercials I see every day for a quick answer. Maybe it’s just lazyness and the fact that walking leaves me sore every night. Or maybe it’s just that I am sick of broccoli.

But I resist, every day.

I made a commitment in the beginning that if I was going to do this crazy diet thing, just one more time, I would do it only by my own sheer will. (And the help of God, cause I couldn’t have done it without Him.) But that means no pills, no gimmicks, no cheating by way of science or nutrition. No surgeries, no throwing up (although to be honest, I’ve had to fight that urge too, especially after a particularly crap meal), no starving myself.

That means facing food and exercise head on, and not ever taking a short cut. (I admit, the colon cleanse was interesting, but I really don’t consider that a dieting ploy. That’s just good health, people.)

So today, as I looked at the scale in disgust after walking 18 miles so far this week with no response from the scale, I once again had to fight the urge… “It sure would be easy if I could just take some pills.”

Yep. It sure would be. It would be great if I could just down some drugs and move on with the weight loss. It would be great if I could bypass all the self-doubt and disappointment I face every day as I struggle through this rough time of being stuck. If I could just throw it up, if I could just not eat at all…these are the things I am beginning to really fight.

At this point in the game, I wonder how much more I can lose. And I really want to know. But am I willing to do it with the assistance of chemicals and completely resign to my “need it now” attitude?

No. I won’t. Because the questions would remain: “Could I have done it all on my own? Would it feel better knowing I had done it without taking the short cut? If I hadn’t given in, what could I have accomplished?”

I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer here, but I think that we need to talk about the raw emotional truths that everyone goes through. I know I am not the first person to struggle with these thoughts, and I want to know that this is an open forum to discuss these things.

So, although I am disappointed with the end of the week’s results on the scale, I’m going to continue to push through this, keep walking, and most of all-

I’m going to keep believing that I can do this. I can achieve this weight loss if I work hard, stay motivated through the rough times, and keep walking forward.

What are some struggles you guys are having with dieting? How do you keep yourselves from getting discouraged? What gets you through the disappointment?

The Adventures of Stop It and Quit It

(Hillary reminded me that this month is breast cancer awareness month. Sure, OK, we will go with that as the reason for this post!)

Well, my last post caused quite a stir, and I had no intention of doing that. It was the mere mention of my right breast, Quit It, that caused the ruckus. Not the boob part. You every day readers are used to my rantings and ravings about the boobs. It was the fact I have named her that seemed to get the giggles.


So, today, in honor of my friend Hillary and her Mr. Linky blog hop (I had no idea what that was either till I looked it up.) I was challenged to post something really crazy. That’s the theme of the blog hop today. So crazy you are gonna get. After all, you regular readers know that your old pal Charlie here is the queen of crazy. I wear my crown proudly.


And in my humble estimation, there is nothing crazier than a man’s fascination with boobs. After all, as women we have lost our allure of the idea of a boob. It serves as 3 basic functions in a woman’s life.


Those functions are as follows-

1. A source of humiliation in high school. They are either too big or too small. Or maybe they are too pointy. Whatever your problem was, you figured out exactly what it was in high school. Am I right?


2. A source of nourishment for those of us with natural born children.


3. Something resembling cat toys for the men in our life.


Yep, that’s about it. Sure there are temporary functions for the girls- purse, napkin, leaky faucet, etc., but pretty much the 3 above mentioned jobs are the mainstay role of our girls.
What weirds me out is every man in the world (with a lick of horrormoans left in him, anyway) seems to be drawn without reproach to the mounds of droopy flesh- I mean God given gifts on our chest. They stare, stalk, and even once in a while manage the courage to reach out and touch them. Hence the names of my breasts.


I spent the majority of high school career was smacking the eager hands of young boys, crying out “Stop it! Quit it!” until they knocked it off. The names just stuck.


Recently, Stop It and Quit It took a trip south. Partly because of the weight I have lost, partly because of breastfeeding 3 greedy babies, but mostly due to gravity. Gravity is a cruel mistress, as many of you know. My boobs once pointed to Canada. Now, they are kissing South America. And striving for Antarctica. Which would be my feet. They ARE always cold. Coincidence? I think not.


Yet my sweet husband seems to be endlessly entertained by Stop It and Quit It. In fact, lately, with the emergence of my slightly new and improved body, he has a new hobby. Everytime he passes me going from one room to another, he has to touch one. Just for a second. If the kids are in the room, it’s just a “bump” into one. But if the kids are in bed, heaven help me, I get mauled to death by happy hands and a dumb grin on his face.


Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for the attention. But sometimes, it just gets annoying. You know? I have things to do, and if I am carrying a laundry basket of clothes to my scary basement, I really don’t want to take 2 minutes to let him play. I am seriously considering carrying around a set of pink water balloons and telling him, “I’m going shopping. Have fun!” He would never notice I was gone.


But to be honest, I love my boobs and would be lost without them. I wouldn’t know how to dress, or how to flirt with my fella. I’d spend a lot more money on pedicures if I could actually see my toes in their absence, I suppose. I just wish they didn’t look like a leg of a pair of suntan panty hose with a cantelope shoved in the bottom. If they just looked me in the eyes once again, I’d be happy.


In summary, and to be honest, I can’t remember if I have shared this story on the blog before or not, I had one of those great “my kid just kicked me in the teeth with reality” moments.

I had clean laundry in the living room, and Tim, who was 6 at the time, was sitting watching TV in there. So I streaked, topless, to the clean clothes basket. Tim didn’t give me a second glance. Until I went back in the bedroom with a clean bra and shirt and began dressing. He called from the living room, “Hey, Mom? Why did God give women long boobs?”


Sometimes, you just can’t argue with the truth.

On the Heels of a Hipster

Well, it’s nice to report some exciting news here at the Big Butt home office. First of all, after a long week, I was able to clock in 24 miles for 7 days. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself! Apparently, now that I am lighter, I need more concentrated exercise to get the pounds off.


Which leads me to exciting thing #2. We got a membership back to the YMCA! The Executive Director was on my plea for a membership like a hawk, and we got things worked out so my family can afford it. Mostly. We will figure it all out, but it is certainly much more affordable.


Onto exciting thing 3. Yesterday, I walked an amazing 7 miles! It was awesome, and when I got home I was stinky and thrilled. (For some reason, Matt asked me to shower before a congratulatory hug. I wonder why?) The walk itself went very smooth. Except when I had to pee on mile 2 ½. I figured I would be able to hold it until I got to the mall, but that didn’t happen. So I had to find somewhere to pee quickly. My choices were Wendy’s, a liquor store (and they don’t have a public bathroom, just in case you need to pee and are in the area), Dairy Queen (Please shout in unison “EVIL!”) and FINALLY, when I was about to burst- Subway. The only store in a 3 mile radius that doesn’t serve fries. Yeah, I am that susceptible to fast food. I admit it. It’s an addiction. Other than that, the walk was great, and I even managed to jog about every 10 blocks or so.


Then we got to go to a real grown up party. My husband worked on an indie film called “Revolting” and last night was the premiere of the “rough cut.” There were still a few things that had to be added, and over all, the film was incredibly funny.


(A special kudo to the star of the film Bill. You were freaking awesome, my friend. I thought your subtleties were amazing, and I was snorting with laughter. Which was awkward, since we were sitting next to each other. Thank heavens you realized I was laughing and not trying to play off a cold! Now get caught up Project Runway, you slacker!)


(By the way, if ANY pictures of me surface from the party- I was sober, I was posing, and there was absolutely no hanky panky going on. I am a woman who enjoys being silly, and if you see the pictures, my husband and his buddy Eric were goofing off. They were both uh, not so sober, and it was cracking me up. So I played along, for the fun of it. I’m not uptight, so you can’t be either!)


But in my vanity, I re-wore the shoes from last weekend. The blistery shoes, as you may recall. Even though the blisters were gone, I have to admit that I should never have worn the dumb things. Fabulous as I looked, they weren’t worth the pain. Especially after that long walk.


So today all my grandiose plans to get whipped into shape were thwarted by a bum hip. I must have pushed it out of alignment with all the heel action I had going last night. And taking advantage of a less than slightly schnokered Matt. Hee hee…


The majority of my day was spent in a mental game of chess with myself. Should I walk? Should I stay home with a heating pad on my hip? Should I try a mile on the treadmill? Should I reheat the left over Chinese food in the fridge? Unfortunately, that last one won, so I ate horribly fattening food to compensate for the hip. I ought to know better by now.


Which is frustrating, because this morning, I saw 176.4 AGAIN on the scale. I am still officially off the plateau, but even so, I shouldn’t be touching Pork Lo Mein with a 10 foot chop stick, and I know it. I need to stay away from it.


I finally, after eating a good portion of the left over Chinese, decided I should try to do a Yoga DVD. Which made my hip feel better. Dang it. Now I feel obligated to walk.


Finally, last order of business from the Big Butt office, is that tonight, I am altering my navy bathing suit AGAIN! Seems that the body has really started shifting, and my right breast, commonly known as “Quit it” since high school, decided to shift right out of the dumb suit while swimming at the Y on Friday. The life guard- young, cute, and probably 19, got a show. Quit it was floating out on the water like a life raft 3 feet long. He couldn’t miss it. It’s his job to stare at the water, and stare he did. Till I shot him a look like “Will you please turn your head?” He did, but slowly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of shock or horror. It’s funny, I know. You all laugh at my escapades, but I have to live through them!!!


So let me know what your plans are for this week. What are you going to do to get healthy? What changes are you going to make to improve your life this week? What will you attempt to do?


And check back later this week to find out the winner of the Sentsy contest. I’ll be picking the winner sometime this week.


As for the moment, I’m going to jump on the treadmill before the hip starts hurting again. Work off a little more tonight. Cause it says it in Hewey Lewis and the News song-
It’s Hip to be Sore!

Little pig, little pig, let me in!

Tonight I was doing the usual check yourself out in the mirror game. I love watching the body change as it goes from fat to less fat. And I noticed that the chin has gone through some dramatic transitions.

Here’s me (with no makeup on and feeling quite pathetic) in January of this year.



Now, here’s me, on October 7th, looking somewhat different. Albeit still no makeup.

I was so surprised at what has happened over the last 10 months! I actually had a jaw line under there! Who knew?

Until, I realized on the first picture taken tonight (not shown here) that a long black hair had mysteriously grown on my chin. Like a proud whisker attempting to get other hairs to join in the fun and drive me to madness.

Now, I have accepted the fact that I am getting older. No problem. I am more than a year past my 20’s, and it’s all right.

(Brace yourself. Unfiltered Charlie thoughts to follow. You have been warned.)

But why is it that now I have to add insult to injury with random pubic hairs on my chin?

At least I understand the path they take. It starts on the goodie patch. The constituents residing there take a vote.

“All in favor of turning white and seeing how bad she freaks out tomorrow morning, say aye!”

92% are in favor.

“All those opposed, say nay!”

And the poor 8% who are unyielding to change are sent abroad.

Abroad being my belly button. Which is where they stay until they can find a more permanent place to reside. Or I get the tweezers out while I’m on the pot and pluck them out. (DO NOT EVER SHAVE YOUR BELLYBUTTON. EVER.)

(DID I MENTION NOT EVER?)

Once they realize that the belly button is no longer the safe haven it once was, they start to migrate up, maintaining their dark mysterious appearance. They also straighten up along the way. I have found them on my shoulders, my tummy, and even once on my boob. But they are all migrating solo, and once I find each brave little lonely hair, the tweezers attack.

Finally, 4 lucky ones wind up on my face. I have 2 that persistently grow front and center on my chin every 3-4 weeks, in the exact same spot, like a Howard Johnson for wayward hairs. Yeah, apparently I left the light on.

The other 2 are placed exactly where I cannot see them or notice them until I am somewhere in the sunshine. It also seems to always be in a crowded area filled with people I know. Now, one is directly on the left side of my face. What I can’t understand is how did I apply my makeup without noticing that inch long rouge? Did it grow immediately after I walked away from the mirror that morning? Was there something in my Oil of Olay that resembles Miracle Grow?

The other one is about 3 inches below the hair on the left side of my face. I’m actually happy about this, because 10 months ago, it was on my face/double plus chin. Lately, it grows on the underside of my chin/neck. So I’m not going to gripe about that one. It’s fun to see how far onto my neck the dumb thing grows now.

But the worst part of all is that these hairs, wherever they land, are impossible to pull out with your fingers. You can’t yank on them, because they are jammed in the follicle with the body’s equivalent of super glue. The only way to attack these pesky boogers is with a tweezer, which I never seem to have with me at the moment of discovery. I keep telling myself to leave a set in the car, so when the sunshine hits and that black beauty starts sparkling on the side of my face like a diamond, I can remove it before anyone else notices. But that hasn’t happened yet. SO instead, I pull and yank and claw at the thing until I have a huge red spot on the spot that further highlights the location of said pube on the face.

All of this to tell you that I retook the pictures of my chin tonight, once the hair was plucked out. I just wanted you to know, in case it has happened to you, that you are not alone. I wanted to let you in on my secret.

‘Bout the hair on my chinny chin chin.

Busting at the seams

Well, it’s about time I shared some good weight news with you all, huh?


This morning, after 2 months of my crybaby dieting, I FINALLY busted through the plateau I have been on since the beginning of August.


Yep, I reached the magical number of 176.4, and I gotta tell you- it feels fantastic!


In spite of yet another Butter Burger from Steak ‘n Shake, a piece of birthday cake, an entire can of French Fried Onions, and a whole mess of other crap foods in the last 7 days, I managed to pull myself out of my slump by the boot straps and work through it.


But I’ll be honest with you. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.


In fact, I was trying to figure out a way to gracefully bow out of the blog, because I was feeling like a horrible example for you all to watch. I was almost ready to chuck it all, when I made one last final ditch effort to change the scale. And that effort was exactly what I needed.


What in the world did I do?


Besides going back to food journaling (if I bite it, I write it. Food choices look much more shocking on paper) I started pushing myself after walking group to walk home from the mall, giving me an additional 2.8 miles after we cruise through 2.5 miles at the mall.


Yeah, I forced myself to walk 5.3 miles 3 times a week. And you know what? It was just the kick in the stretchy pants this girl needed. Now, I don’t recommend that you do the same, as poor Lee Ann and Kara discovered last night. I’m sure after our jaunt home that they are hurting like holy heck this morning. Sweet kids. Advil makes it all better, I promise!


But for me, I needed to give that extra push to get things moving. Plus now I can say that I am officially at a 62 pound loss. And still going. Because now that I have hit that number, ain’t nothing gonna stop me now. I feel totally refreshed and restored. (Well, more like re-sored. I hurt a bit too.)


So the Lotte Berk experiment was a total bust. And the couch to 5K didn’t work out either. I’m just not a runner. It doesn’t feel good to me, and after weeks of hanging on to the frail skills I had for week one, I finally gave up.


But walking- that is something I can do. And I enjoy it. A lot. I even enjoyed going a full 6 miles!


So instead of giving myself a ridiculous goal that I can’t do and don’t enjoy, I am going to stick with walking. In fact, I am going to try to get in 100 miles of walking in the month of October.


Which I know, sounds like one of my crazy hairbrained Lucy schemes. But walking is easy. And if I can plow out 5 miles 5 times a week, then I can do it. And I already have 11.3 miles under my belt. Which means I am over one tenth of the way there.


On the days when I don’t feel like walking (like today, when it’s cold and rainy outside) I will just hop on the treadmill and do it one mile at a time. There’s nothing that says it has to be in one big swoop. It’s kinda like the scale. You can’t expect to drop 10 pounds over night. You have to do it one pound at a time. Sometimes one ounce at a time. And other days, you just can't give up, no matter what the scale says.


So that’s the word, bird. I’m on my way to the land of 160’s. And I can’t wait to get there.


It’s nice to be busting at the seams because of shrinkage instead of the alternative!

Blisters

It all started with my favorite pair of shoes. I love these dumb things, and I only wear them on special occasions. And my nephew’s 3rd birthday bash was just such an occasion.

It also meant that I was going to have to get a different outfit. I am slowly slipping out of the clothes I have, and I needed something with style. Fashion bug had this great deal that you could get clothes for $4, and that is most definitely in my price range. And I just happen to find a pair of jeans that made me look long and lean, and a vest to match. I had this cute black and white stripe shirt that I had purchased a month back at Family Dollar for $2 that would be perfect under the vest. But the jeans were a touch too long, because they didn’t have the petite length I needed. So I had to wear heels or the whole long and lean look would be bunched together at my ankles. And if I’m wearing black and white, then my favorite homemade decoupaged shoes were the only choice that would be the wow statement I was looking for.

As I put the finishing touches on getting dressed before our 2 hour car ride, I ran into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. That was when Matt, with a goofy grin and one eyebrow raised for emphasis, hit me with these words.

“Wow, babe, you look thinner today than the day I met you.”

OK, now most of you know that I am a woman of passion. I get passionate about all kinds of things. But those words were enough to stop this girl dead in her high heeled tracks and made me want to grab him by the face and kiss him into eternity. But we didn’t have time for that, because we had long car trip ahead of us and had to get on the road. Those words would make me sqirm in my seat the entire day.

We got to Indianapolis without a hitch. I haven’t seen a lot of Matt’s family for a good amount of time, which meant that I had lost weight since last time we got together. The heels I was wearing (plus the girdle holding in my tummy) reminded me to stand up straight and proud. Matt and I were flirty all day, coyly holding hands under the table and stealing away in other rooms to sneak kisses. C’mon, people, he told me I looked thinner than he had ever seen me. What would you expect me to do? Ignore a comment like that and act like normal married people? Heck no, the gloves were off, and were dancing the romance dance all day long.

The adorable nephew was highly overstimulated during his party, as any 3 year old hopped up on birthday cake, sugar and chaos will be, and he was beyond funny. He even loved Matt’s gag present to him- a framed picture of the little guy’s “favorite” uncle- my sweet Matt. Here’s the picture. It made the fella dance up and down and scream “Unka Gee, Unka Gee!” (which is what he fondly calls Matt.)

And the entire day was a blast. Until I realized that the shoes weren’t having as much fun as the rest of us were. In fact, the shoes, which I never dared wear for such a long stretch, were complaining by rubbing the balls of my feet, just under the toes.

Have you ever heard the old saying that if you have big problems you want to forget about then put on a pair of shoes that are too tight? Well, that saying couldn’t be more true. By 5 o’clock, my 7th hour into wearing my black and white beauties, my feet were screaming. And no amount of flirting with my husband could make me forget it.

So I started hinting around to Matt that we should be taking off soon. All I could think about was getting those shoes off before I blistered the part of my foot that was so involved in walking 5 miles during exercise time. But Matt, thoroughly having fun talking (yeah, he’s a talker) seemed to not hear me. So I started giving him “the look.”

The look is an art form, to say the least. All of you wives know what the look is, but it also progresses drastically as the husband doesn’t get it. Let me explain.

Charlie’s Look 1- Hey, babe, we probably need to head out to the van soon. It’s about that time for us to go.

Matt’s rebuttal look to Look 1- Aren’t we having fun?

Charlie’s Look 2- Seriously, sweets, we should go soon.

Matt’s Look 2- Ah, this sure is great that we can sit and talk for hours! There’s still so much to say!

Charlie’s Look 3- Matt, my feet hurt and I want to go home!

Matt’s Look 3- I’m sure you are trying to tell me something, but I don’t get it. I’ll keep talking and start another very interesting part of the conversation that wild horses couldn’t drag me out of.

Charlie’s Look 4- Dang it, man, my feet are blistering. I need to take my shoes off so we can go, because if I take them off in the house, I’ll have to walk out in the cold rain barefoot because once they are off they won’t go back on without really hurting me!

Matt’s Look 4- Isn’t this fun?

Charlie’s Look 5- Listen, buster, you aren’t going to reap the rewards of all our flirting if you get a hernia because you have to carry me into the house because my feet fell off in the van. Let’s move.

Matt’s look 5- Charlie, you look weird. Is there something in your eye? Are your contacts drying up?

Charlie’s Look 6- I am going to start crying like a baby if we don’t leave in the next 10 minutes.

Matt’s Look 6- Wait a minute. I've seen that look on you before. Is something wrong?

Charlie’s Look 7- Yes, something is wrong! I WANNA GO HOME!

Matt’s Look 7- Oh, you want to go home? Ok, we will leave in the next hour or so.

Charlie’s Look 8- I can’t stand to be here another hour. I love your family to death, and they are wonderful, but my feet hurt and we need to go NOW!

Matt’s Look 8- Isn’t this fun?

At this point, I realized that non-verbal communication was getting us nowhere. I finally said out loud, “Hey, babe, we really should get a move on. The kids will need to eat soon, and it’s time.”

Once we were finally in the van, 45 minutes later, Matt said, “Hey, what was that all about?”

“Well, my feet hurt, and we have a long drive ahead of us, and I was hoping to walk tonight, and your sister is pregnant and I’m sure she is getting tired because they had a lot to do before the party and we really needed to get out of there so they could wind things down and get some rest. Plus your nephew was getting really sleepy and he missed his afternoon nap and was running on empty.”

Matt looked at me with a sideways glance and said, “Oh, I didn’t think of that. OK, then, we are on our way!”

Apparently, I need to work on my looks. Sitting in the van, I removed my beautiful shoes to reveal a HUGE blister on the side of my foot, right where I try to avoid getting corns, and rubbed the spot with a gentle hand. The sound of the windshield wipers swooshing as the rain outside poured down was comforting.

Matt, being the loving husband he is, said “Well, we better hurry home if you are going to get your 5 mile walk in.”

As I swatted him in the arm, the van swerved to the left a little.

Today, the morning after, the foot is better, but my tennis shoes still not fitting right. The 5 mile walk may be painful tomorrow night.

The price we pay for beauty, huh?

Persuased to Perfection

Who is it, exactly, decided that we have to be perfect? That every woman has to be the same kind of thin? That every week you diet you must lose weight or you are doing something wrong?

Whoever it was, I would love to wring their neck.

I have decided today to buck the perfection trap. I am standing firmly against the idea that you must have your hair just so, that makeup has to be applied, and that when you do something it has to be right on.

I am not a piano player, as you will shortly experience. I play chords. That's it. And for today, I'm OK with the ability I currently possess.

I started walking 5 miles 3 times a week. And this week, I didn't lose weight. I'm 178 at the moment. And I'm OK with the fact that I am hanging in there even though I don't see results right this second.

I didn't feel like putting on makeup today. And you know what? I am fine with you seeing my face without the fake eyelashes and concealer. I also didn't fix my hair before this. I'm a mess. And this mess is just fine with bangs that don't stay where they are supposed to.

I look goofy when I sing and play piano. I hesitate when I can't find the chords on the keyboard that is laying on my bed. In fact, I have to start over just when I was getting started. (That is SOOOOOO much like my dieting life!) But the song itself speaks louder than my mistakes.

This song, which I shared the lyrics to earlier this week, is from the deepest parts of my heart. It's to encourage us to take the small steps when it doesn't seem like we are going anywhere. It reminds us to keep working for the things we want, even though those things seem far out of our reach. It tells me to not demand perfection all the time, but to travel on the hard roads that will benefit me better than a quick fix.

I wish I could give you a perfected version of this song, but that would totally defeat the purpose of what I am trying to say. So- you get the real, imperfect, not fancy me playing the best I can and singing from the most personal places that I have. And while it looks like I am staring directly at the camera for part of this song, I am simply keeping my eyes on my music. Cause I suck at remembering what chords to play.

You deserve honesty, and this is as raw as the truth can get. But the point is that we keep moving forward in spite of our lack of perfection.

It almost feels freeing to post this as is, screw ups and all.

Maybe next time, I'll show you all how bad my stretch marks are on my tummy... if there's a chance it will help me accept my imperfections there, count me in!

Girl Power is found in your purse

Mother Nature- my foe. Stuck once again cleaning up the mess she has made, doomed to endure it for the next 6 days. No fun at all. You can read my letter to Mother Nature if you happen to miss her gift on my birthday, but if you are up to speed, then please, read on.

I have been on a kick of talking about sabotage lately, and I will continue with that later. But for today, in order to take my mind off the cramps that are making my ears ring, I am going to discuss girl power.


GP is a wonderful gift 40 weeks out of the year. The other 12, it’s wretched. Let’s do some math.


I started my frequent monthly periods at 12. I am now 32. 20x12= 240 weeks of my life that I have been bleeding. That’s a little over 4 years. SO FAR. Now, I did get pregnant for 3 years straight, but the 8 weeks of bleeding after each birth makes up for the time I missed while preggers. That’s also averaging out the months when I have had more than one period, and the time I tried the shot form of birth control and had a 40 day flood.

So, let’s say that I spend $10 dollars on pads and tampons for every period. 240 periods times 10 bucks a pop is $2400, not to mention bleach, ammonia, and stain sticks. And replacing underwear that has been bleached out one too many times and falls apart when I peel off the Always pad, like cotton confetti in the mall bathroom. Yep, it’s happened.

$2400 for a week long party for the next 20 years, complete with decorations, and a special invitation to those around us about a week before hand, warning them that this will be more of a pity party than anything.

What a waste of money. Seriously.

Girl Power is highly overrated.

I know that this has nothing to do with dieting at first glance, but maybe it has more to do with dieting than we think. After all, as women, we prepare for our periods. We make sure our purses are stocked with a portable pharmacy. We have pantyliners, pads, pads with wings, light flow tampons, regular flow tampons, and “I’ve given birth to 3 kids” big around as a tuna can tampons. We carry Midol, Advil, Aleve, and bottles of water to suck those pills down. We have those nifty heat pads that don’t need a cord, wet wipes, and some of us who have had exploding panties in the bathroom are even smart enough to carry around an extra pair in a Ziploc baggie.


SO what do we carry in our purse that help us diet in sticky situations?

Let’s figure out how to stock our purse like a portable grocery store and help us be successful when we are out and about.

1. Sugar free gum.

Ladies, this is our first line of defense when it comes to food. It helps us get the sensation of eating, gives us flavor, and helps curb those cravings. (Especially if it’s cinnamon, right Amy and Lee Ann? Hahahaha) I keep sweet fruity kinds, spicy kinds, and even the weird flavors in my purse at all times. No matter what I think I might be hungry for, I have a flavor to match.

2. Fiber One Bars.

I know these are more expensive than Nutrigrain cereal bars or granola bars, but there is a reason I like these for the purse. First of all, they are packed with fiber, which will hold off hunger longer than the granola versions. Second of all, any food that is in my purse has got to stand up to some fierce beatings. My purse is knocked around, sat on, squished, and laid flat during the course of any given day. The Fiber One Bars are tough little cookies. They don’t melt or fall apart or get squashed to the point of squeezing out of the wrapper. And they are deelish!!!!

3. Del Monte fruit 100 calorie fruit cans.
I know, taking a can in your purse sounds bulky, but so is carrying around a big can on your backside. Trust me on this. Fruit is my life blood these days. I eat it whenever I can. (get it? Can? I’m so punny!) Just make sure you keep a plastic spoon or fork in your purse to go with it. And don’t worry about a can opener. The fantastic folks at Del Monte made sure to put a lid that can be opened with your hands, just like a can of soda.

4. I would mention that you should always have a bottle of water in there too, but you already have it to suck down your midol….

So there you have it. Everything you need to get yourself through a trip to the mall. Period or not, your purse is important. It can keep you from having wild calorie attacks in the food court. It can save you from needing to walk an extra mile on the treadmill. Because this way, you will always be prepared:

When purse comes to shoving food in your mouth.

Looks like Sabotage

Imagine it. You are out with your fella, and a gorgeous woman with a plunging neckline and surgically altered blessings walks by. What happens next?

Well, if your husband is breathing, he looks. He stops, if only for a brief moment, and thinks to himself silently, “Wow. What a great pair of owls she’s got!”

Most of us will do the usual smack-him-hard-in-the-stomach move and pull him on. But guys can’t really help it. They are visually stimulated by what comes into their line of sight, and their body reacts involuntarily to the sights. Chances are they won’t act on the thoughts (not like a hot woman would be interested in your man, especially if she knew what his farts smelled like or that ne never takes out the trash without a serious nagging session) but the chemical reaction is inevitable that he will look.

Now, what is it that separates women from men? We have better impulse control, right? If we look, it’s only to get ideas on how to dress our man better, right? Or is it possible that women are just as visually stimulated as men are? I think we definitely are, but perhaps not toward the opposite sex.

Tell me something, what happens when you see this?

Or this???

Stimulated now? Are those salivary glands active? Can you feel the need to run out and get a big old hunk of milk chocolate happy?

Yeah, me too. In fact, I lingered too long searching on Google Images to find chocolate pictures to show you. My big breasted temptation is a triple tempered chocolate concoction that has been blended and creamed until gooey perfection. I admit it. I had a 25 minute drool fest.

The fact is that we are influenced greatly by the visual cues we get when it comes to food. Have you ever noticed the fast food commercials that drone on and on when it is almost dinner time? What about that Taco Bell owns the TV stations after 10pm because they are open late for a fifthmeal? Or have you ever thought about the hundreds of thousands of dollars that are spent for food plating on magazine covers? Each morsel is placed “just so” in the hopes of selling their rag and you putting that same dish on your hips. If you think that you are above visual stimulation when it comes to food, I dare you to watch just one cake show on Food Network. Go ahead, I triple dog dare ya.

My personal favorite is Ace of Cakes. Sure, there may be some cake artists out there who are technically perfect, but I love the idea that power tools were used in the making of my confections and that they are filled with character and were surrounded by movie and kung foo references while they were made. Not to mention that Mary Alice is too cool for school. That girl cracks me up! In fact, when I hit goal and have a huge party, I often dream about having them make my big butt logo girl as a cake for the occasion, except that she is holding a silver platter of fresh cut veggies for me to eat instead of pigging out on the cake. OK, who am I kidding? I would never pass up Charm City Cake, especially if it was made for me. I suppose a carrot cake wouldn’t be so bad…the only saving grace for me is that they are in Baltimore, and I am way outside their delivery area. But you have to admit, that would make an awesome “I lost 100 pounds celebration” cake, wouldn’t it?

Sorry, I digress. But there is something about seeing cake that makes my tummy feel all gooey inside. Also in the make me gooey category are fries covered in cheese and bacon, and any hunk of meat that is smothered in grilled onions. (Oh, a must add to the list is the Wisconsin Buttery Burger at Steak N Shake. DO NOT ORDER THIS BURGER. It is divine beyond words, and you will never want to eat another burger ever again. I’m just trying to save you a week on the treadmill.)

Did you ever sing the song in Sunday School… “Oh, be careful little eyes what you see?” I have to tell you, there is no better diet philosophy we could hang on to. Our eyes like to lie to us. They focus on the calorie laden plate, and ignore the cottage cheese. On our thighs. In fact, our eyes are fantastic at making us see illusions. And I thought I would bring a few of them out in the open so we can bring the truth to light.

Illusion #1. What is on your plate is a serving size.
Heaven help me, this is the toughest lesson to learn. I keep thinking that somehow, the restaurant will magically give me only what I need on my plate. These servings are not for us striving for weight loss. A good rule of thumb is that your veggie portion should be bigger than your meat portion. Always try to eat the veggies first. And order a box to come with your main course. Sure, it looks tacky, but who cares? Thunder thighs in skinny leg jeans looks more tacky. Trust me. Don’t make me show you a picture of my first attempt at skinny leg jeans. It’s not pretty. I’m not suggesting that you bring a food scale to your favorite diner, but if you faithfully start using proper portions at home and get a feel for the amounts you should be eating, you won’t be deceived when you are out and about on the town.

Illusion #2. Those food commercials have no effect on you.
Lies, lies, lies! I have no craving for a half pound burrito until I see the commercial. And I don’t even like the Bell anymore! I never think about dipping my fruit in chocolate until I see an ad for those edible bouquets. And it is ludicrous to imagine that anything you purchase while still seated in your car with the window rolled down is healthy. I don’t care if you are ordering a salad. By the time you put on the croutons, dressing, cheese, nuts and frilly add-ins, etc., you might as well get out of your car and walk home to burn it off. But we are convinced by the genius spin of the high paid marketing departments that we can make healthy options at fast food joints. Let me be clear- we can make HEALTHIER options, but you are still doing better to bite the bullet and eat at home where you won’t be tempted by french fries that jumped ship in the bottom of the bag. As for those commercials? It would behoove you to get up and stretch your legs during the commercial breaks. Maybe go in another room and drink 8 ounces of water, or try to jog in place until the show comes back on. Anything but sit there and be influenced by those fast food commercials!

Illusion #3. If it says Low Fat, Fat Free, Reduced Fat, Reduced Calorie, High Protein, High Fiber, or any other diet buzz words, it MUST be good for you and you can eat all you want of it.
This is a really tough one to decipher. There are many benefits of going with some reduced whatever products. You can do well with shaving off calories and grams of fat from your diet. However, that is only if you keep with the recommended serving size. How many of you have consumed more than just one 100 calorie pack in a sitting? (Charlie is sheepishly raising her hand) By doing this, we defeat the purpose of the pack. In fact, we would have saved money by just buying the Oreos, because 20 servings of regular Oreos are the same price as 6 servings of the wafer thin imitations. Now, let’s look at salad dressings. Reduced fat dressings- at least the ones in my fridge- still can contain up to 8 grams of fat per tablespoon. Scary, isn’t it? If you have to have the taste of ranch, even the reduced fat kind, put it on the side. Then dip your fork in the dressing and get a bit on the tines of your fork before attacking the lettuce. It’s amazing how little you use this way! We are a nation of excess, and we have got to retrain our eyes to really look at labels before we dig in. Label reading is key.

I hope that you all will take a second look at what your eyes are taking in and the illusions we have talked about here. My goal is to give you keys to make changes that can last you a life time, not just while you are “on a diet.”
And keep those entries coming in for the Sentsy Giveaway! I love seeing everyone get involved and looking at how different your tastes are. It makes me wonder what your homes look like. Personally, I love they symphony warmer, and the white do it yourself one with the skull rub ons. Cause I’m rock and roll like that. You have till Thursday night to get your entries in!!!

Smells like Sabotage

Old business first. My weigh in was this morning, and I lost 2.6 pounds this week. Yee haw!

And the winner of the basket of goodies give away is... (does anyone remember that?) Lee Ann from Danville! (I’ll be getting with you later, Lee Ann, to work out the details!) Here is an excerpt from her winning letter:
“Recently, I reconnected with an old friend …Turns out I'm not alone with the expanding housewife syndrome. She has been on a weight loss journey lately and has lost around 60 pounds!! She has motivated me to get serious again. I've been eating better and doing something I never thought I'd do...walk. She has a walking group here where we live and she actually got me to move. I have to tell you, that task takes someone special. But with her kind words, encouragement, and seeing her success, I have decided I can do this. I've just been going at it around a month and a half now, but I've lost around 10 pounds.
So I would like to share with you my friend and her success. I hope that with her honest blogging about her journey, she can motivate you too. She's a great writer, and has a fantastic sense of humor. I wish you could all meet her in person, because she really is one of the most awesome people. I think that once you start reading the blog that you will be able to recognize that just from her words.”

Congrats Lee Ann. Your letter was killer. And lots of folks came to me through your words. Thanks.

On to new business.

This is something I have been wanting to write about for a while. But I didn’t want it to sound like the scary teasers for the evening news, like “200 Chemicals under your sink that will kill you as you sleep!”

But what I am about to share is a matter that us diet girls need to explore in depth.

Is it possible that we are sabotaging ourselves and our diets and don’t even know it?

I say yes! Yes, yes, yes!

There are lots of “triggers” I have discovered in my own life that drive me to eat. Some of them may just be because I am slightly off kilter and a bit weird, but I think that a lot of these triggers are universal. And maybe we need to pay attention.

I don’t know how many of you understand the process of taste. Most of us know it goes in our mouths, then tastes deelish, then goes straight to our hips.

But there is a great process involved in how we taste our food, and we should nose it. I mean know it. This little definition is part of a transcript from a one of my favorite shows, “Good Eats” on Food Network. Alton Brown explains the science of food along with how to cook it. And I learn something every time. Here’s his take on tasting.

“Although our brains tell us that our mouths do the tasting, the truth is, the taste buds (points to tongue and says, “riayt heayr”) are blunt instruments compared to the apparatus up here. (Points to his nose.) Now, if you could travel up into your nasal cavity and fight past the hairs and all the other protective barriers, (shakes green slime off his hand), um, you would eventually find several tiny patches of exposed nerve ending which are actually the only parts of the human brain exposed to open air. Now aroma molecules travel up from the mouth and lock on to these nerve endings which kind of examine their shape, and then send the “intel” off to the brain. Now this is analyzed, of course, along with the more general data from the mouth and a flavor profile is formed. If you don’t believe that this works, just pinch your nose, and taste the peach, and then let go. See? Your nose, knows.”

So, we taste with our noses more than our mouths. I usually thought that if I tasted a morsel, that would spell disaster. But I never considered what could happen if I smelled things. Once I started paying attention in my house, I was amazed at what I discovered.

So let’s go through a few of the lessons I learned, find out what they are and how to change them. You may be surprised once you see what can affect your eating habits!

1. When you shop in the grocery store.
I don’t know about you, but from about 5am to 9am, our local stores are extra busy making donuts, rolls, and yummy breakfast stuff that can really blow your diet. Then, from 10am to about 8pm, they are roasting and frying chickens in the deli. All of these things can make a girl impulse buy food and eat it in the car. Or take it home for her family. (Even if she buys jelly donuts and her family only likes cinnamon rolls. Are you picking up what I am putting down?) Seriously consider when you are doing your grocery shopping and make sure that you shop on a full stomach, and don’t linger in delis and bakeries. If you think about it, unless you are having something sliced, there is nothing in the mega-mart deli that is good for you. If possible, the best time to go is about 11pm. That’s when the store smells of floor wax and cleaner. That sure doesn’t make me hungry, how about you?

2. Eau de Charlie
It amazes me how many of our products are filled with bubble gum, vanilla and cherry flavors. Everything from lip gloss and perfumes to bubble bath and body washes. When you surround your brain with these tantalizing scents, you mentally drool. And that tricks your brain into thinking you are hungry. That is self-sabotage. Look for mint and floral scents in your personal products. Need chapstick? Skip the cherry kind and get the plain. Yeah, it’s yucky. But it also won’t make you hungry. Body wash need replacing? Skip the Mango or Pomegranate washes and find an orchid or ocean breeze smell. The you won’t get a whiff of yummy goodness every time your arm comes close to your nose.

3. CANDLES
Girlies, let me tell you. This is a tough one. I am a candle- uh, freak…Yankee Candle has stayed strongly above the economy because of my neurotic need to keep the house smelling like freshly baked apple pie and a blossoming cherry tree. But what I found is that not only do I get the munchies when I am burning the smellerific candles, but when I blow them out, the smell of smoldering wick brings back many memories of birthday cake. (Yes, I associate the blowing out of candles with cake. Told you I’m weird.) Which leads to random cupcake purchases as I go to the grocery store at 11pm. In order to combat this whole vicious cycle and still keep your home smelling great, I think that we need to explore wickless options…

Ladies, I would like to introduce you to Maria, my super swell cousin and avid commenter on my blog. She is known as “M.” (Look through the comments. She’s just as crazy as me.) Maria is the modern woman’s Martha Steward (yes, I spelled it wrong because Maria has a servent's heart like you wouldn't believe!) She runs a tight ship with 3 boys and a husband, does ALL the family laundry in 2 days (I still don’t know how she pulls that one off), keeps a great sense of humor, and She has just become a “Scentsy” consultant. This product is AWESOME!!!! They offer bricks of scents that you put in warmers, no flame required. Their scents, while often based around food, have a certain aroma that keeps them from being overly perfumy, and even their Baked Apple Pie scent is one doesn’t make my stomach growl, while still being extremely pleasant. To help someone get a fresh start on their candle collection, I am going to give away a complete “Scentsy System” which includes 3 Scentsy Bars of your choice and a full size Scentsy warmer! It’s a $45 value!

So you wanna know how you can win. There have to be rules, because I don't want to go to jail for fraud. So here they are!

A. You MUST go to Maria’s website at www.scentsy.com/mariahoupt and browse around. Tell me which full size warmer you would purchase and what 3 scents sound most appealing to you in the comment section below. Make sure you include your email address if you don’t have a blogger account that will allow me to access your email. This will make sure you that if you win you get what you want and I have a way to get it to you.

Between NOW and Thursday October 1st:

b. Every comment you post on my blog gets you 1 entry into the contest. (Current, as in today, and new posts only please)

c. If you become a follower, that entitles you to 2 entries!

d. If you link my blog to your blog, that entitles you to 3 entries!


e. Send a personal email to 5 friends at a time telling them about my blog, you get 5 entries for the giveaway! (just CC my email on the letter to keep it ligit.)



I hope that you all have fun with this giveaway. Make sure you invite your friends to join in too! And good luck to you all!!!

She Stole My Heart and My Cat!

Does anyone know what movie the title of this post is from? I'll give you a hint. Think Haggas.

Today seems to be a thieving kind of day. My friend Hillary over at http://www.theothermama.com/ stole an idea from one of her favorite blogs on how to make a decorative chalkboard with a second hand tray. My friend Mary over at http://www.givinguponperfect.com/ stole a cue from another blog about it being the 7oth anniversary of the Wizard of Oz. (OK, it was actually from her post on Tuesday, but it fits my point better if I pretend it was today.) Therefore, I am going to do some stealing of my own. At least talking about it.

It's kinda funny, because I was debating about writing on this particular topic anyway. Mostly because it incriminates my family. Not in a going to prison kind of way, but more like a "my husband better have a good sense of humor" sort of way. Because it all starts with him.

Matt has been working out. A LOT. In fact, 3 times a week he stays late at work to hit the gym. Which is great. Unfortunately, he also read a book that told him in order to build the muscly bod he is striving for, he has to up his calories and grams of protein. In fact, he has to consume as many grams of protein as he weighs. Which is 177. With shoes. It's funny that when I weigh myself it is always first thing in the morning, buck naked, after I have peed and tried to poo, and before I take even a sip of water. He weighs in the middle of the evening, with shoes on, and hopefully jeans and a brick in his pocket. We weighed the same for a while that way, but now I am a couple of pounds over him again. I'm working on it though and am doing good with getting back in the habit of logging my food. If I nibble it, I scribble it. In a few weeks, I'll be back to being under him. (I better not expand on how happy I will be to be under him. You all might think I mean something else. And I most likely do.)

OK, back to hungry Matt. Poor guy. His food consumption has become something of an issue in the house. Mostly because he can't just eat anything. It has to be healthy stuff. No empty calories. And that means the stuff that I can eat while doing Weight Watchers, he can too. He just quadruples the serving. And then I have no food left.

Let's just compare for a moment:

Charlie's breakfast- a banana, coffee, and a bowl of Quaker Oats high fiber oatmeal with a splash of fat free milk.

Matt's breakfast- 2 bananas, a double serving of MY oatmeal, 3 cups of fat free milk mixed with scoops of nasty protein powder and 4 tablespoons of peanut butter, and some cottage cheese.
And a gallon of coffee with a cup of my fat free french vanilla creamer that this dieter cannot live without.

Charlie's mid morning snack- some water.

Matt's mid morning snack- chicken breast (yes, a whole one) with a salad loaded with my low fat dressing and tomatoes and a cup of shredded cheese.

Charlie's lunch- 2 cups of spinach leaves, with spray on dressing that is 1 WW point for 30 sprays (and it takes that much too) and cut up grapes for sweetness in the salad. Also 4 slices of shaved ham and an orange. And an ice cold glass of water.

Matt's lunch- Brace yourselves. This is gross. 4 eggs scrambled with cheese, MIXED with a cup or two of cottage cheese and a can of tuna. (I know, it turns my stomach every time he makes it. But he can't get enough of the stuff.) 2 more cups of milk to drink with more yucky protein powder.

Charlie's mid day snack- a handful of raw nuts and a bag of 94% fat free slightly butter flavored Styrofoam. I mean popcorn. And an apple. Oh yeah, and a glass of water. It isn't even ice cold at this point. I just have to wash the Styrofoam down.

Matt's mid day snack- lean ground beef, mixed up with cheese and a few more veggies, a cup of clam chowder soup, and a Pepsi. (You think I don't taste the sugar in your mouth when you kiss me, Matt???)

Charlie's Supper- a Smart One frozen entree, some salad with...no, there's no low fat dressing left. OK, skip the salad. At least I can put some cheese on some broccoli...no, there's none of the cheese left either. I can at least have a glass of milk...nope, that's gone too. Between Matt and the kids, they drink over a gallon a day. I don't get a chance to get any. Screw it. I'm eating a snack size pack of Doritos. At least I still have diet 7up in the house!

Matt's supper- The last Smart One entree in the freezer, a bag of frozen broccoli with 8 servings of butter (because there is no cheese. He reminds me to buy more) and a HUGE glass of the rest of Charlie's diet 7up (even though he still has part of the Pepsi he brought home from work in the fridge.) And cookies. Any cookies (which are all the expensive healthier kinds) that are designated for school lunches, this man consumes.

It's no wonder they know me by name at the local grocery store! I'm forever running there at 9pm to get all the stuff we are out of. And I never have diet food left. There is some kind of psychology that must explain the phenomenon- if it looks like there is a lot of it, it must be fine to eat. ALL OF IT.

That being said, I am seriously considering buying a second refrigerator, putting in in our scary basement, and putting all my diet food in there. AND PAD LOCKING IT. Not to keep me out, but Matt and the kids. I can't afford to keep feeding people like this. And I also can't afford to not have healthy food. I just know how it is supposed to be portioned properly. Not to mention that if the food is in my basement, I will get extra exercise going up and down the steps every time I want to graze.

But I must admit, Matt is starting to bulk up, and his arms are beginning to swell with the muscles of Popeye. So maybe I ought to just shut up and deal with it. Keep running to the grocery store. By the time I hit goal, we will both be much improved people with great bodies!

And as for the weight...I wish I could tell you I was doing fabulous and dropping pounds like crazy. Once again, however, my body responds to slow change. Sunday morning, after the Japanese restaurant and a cocktail or two, I was at 182.8 which felt awful. I was down to 180.4 this morning. Better, but still not in the land of 170's. Yuck. Which is why signing up for the WW again was necessary. I'm following the plan 100% again, and that means I just need to be patient and let it start falling off me, one pound at a time. Ug. I am going to have the blog going forever at this rate!!! But it could be worse. I could have given up by now. And that would be way worse.

All rightie. To the grocery store! Tally Ho!

Pain, Pain, Go Away

I don’t know why pain is so relative. I can go many days without thinking about homeless people. Or starving nations. Or hurting folks who need a hand.


Then suddenly, you see someone you know in the throws of devastation, and suddenly, everything comes flooding into your thoughts. You look at the world with uncovered eyes. Your ears perk up and you hear what people are truly saying. Your heart breaks with them, and it makes you remember that being a human is a wonderful thing, and how lucky you are.


One thing that writing this blog has shown me is that we all have wounds. Deep wounds. It just happens as a part of life. You have someone betray you at work. You are going to lose a special friend and there’s nothing you can do. Your children make bad decisions and face consequences that you wish just go away. Your eating is out of control and now you need to lose triple digits to get healthy. Sometimes, people, life just sucks, and there’s no way around it.


What do you do when life gives you a wake up call into reality and you have pain?


Somehow, we have to face the pain and turn it into something beautiful. We have to press ahead, even though “up ahead” is pitch black.


The good news is, we should always be a flash light for one another. That’s the saving grace of crappy situations. We can help one another. Whether it’s a well timed word, slipping of money into someone’s hands, or just taking a moment to listen- WE ARE OUR OWN BEST SUPPORT.


That being said, I have a dear friend who decided it was finally time to get on the weight loss wagon. And she is terrified of it. I completely understand, too. I was exactly where she was 9 months ago. This dieting is scary business, and we all know it. We have to refocus our lives, change our priorities, and learn to move from living to eat into eating to live. It’s tough.


Last night, about 1 am, I woke up with a song on my heart. Many of you may not know this, but music is my one real passion. I’m not good enough to take on American Idol or anything, but I can carry a pretty decent tune in my bucket. Anyhoo, this friend was on my heart, and her song came to life within me. I thought I’d share the lyrics tonight, considering I know many of you out there are hurting so much. I think I will let the song speak for itself.


It’s called “The Stone Around My Neck.”


"The road up ahead seems to stretch out for miles
And morale is decidedly low.
I’ve been in this place one too many times
And I’m scared to head where I should go.
I’ve been the token for all that is broken
And I gave up on me a long time ago.
Yet hope springs again though my courage is thin,
Do I dare to just go with this flow?

I’ll just take one little step, get one foot off the ground
Get one foot in front of the other,
Just make one small move that could turn your life around,
One little step. Now take another.


Looking behind the past leads you astray
And tells you that you won’t succeed.
But the past is the past and it cannot outlast
A future you dream you’ll achieve-
Cause I’ve seen the fire that fuels you desire
To blaze into trails so unknown.
Let this conviction conquer all these afflictions.
Tap into the strength that you’ve shown.

Just take one little step, get one foot off the ground
Get one foot in front of the other,
Just make one small move that could turn your life around,
One little step. Now take another.

The pendulum’s swinging between the extremes
Of failure or victory sweet-
You don’t think life’s tipping the scales in your favor-
But it is…if you’ll just move your feet…


Just take one little step, get one foot off the ground
Get one foot in front of the other,
Just make one small move that could turn your life around,
One little step. Now take another."

The time has come...

It isn't pretty. Not at all.

Last night's little trip into Japanese cuisine land left me with an extra 3 pounds. Which means that I am back up to 182 and some change.

Don't get me wrong...it was totally worth it. I fully believe that you must still have a life while dieting. You need to make exceptions to the rules sometimes in order to not go crazy or feel deprived. My rule of thumb is that things like celebrations and parties are reason to indulge a little.


Being bored is NOT an excuse to indulge.

As you all are completely aware, I have been struggling with the same 5 pounds for a month and a half now. Probably longer if I stop and count it up. Which I won't. Not today. Maybe once I hit 170 I can look back with fond memories of how I fought valiantly for over 6 or 7 weeks and finally beat that stubborn plateau. Till then, the proof is in the low fat sugar free pudding.

Now, I am still doing good with the measurements. I am comfortably into size 12 pants, and my goal jeans are able to be zipped while I'm in an upright position. That is progress.

And although I don't believe that health is all about your weight, I am really sick and tired of seeing 178-182. Mostly because I know that I am better than that. I am able to achieve much more than I have given myself credit for. I can beat this. Which means one thing.

It's time for an all out assault against fat. Kids, Charlie is at war.

So what does that mean, exactly? It means that I need extreme accountability. So I signed back up for Weight Watchers online. It had to be done. I don't journal my food unless I am using the online tools. I can eat 24 points a day, which means no more high fat- low fiber- crap food for this girl. Back to healthy fruits and veggies, lean meats, and water. Lots and lots of water.

Part 2 of my war against fat is finding a way to really work out again. Not just the Lotte Berk either. But really pushing myself. Which means I need Jillian again.

You may recall in the post "Charlie's sweaty balls and the YMCA" that my Jillian Michaels is the teacher of the "Wake Up with Fitness" class at the Danville Family YMCA. She was the best thing that ever happened to my diet. When Tricky Nikki and I were attending her class, I was really cruising on the weight loss and shrinkage. But when our financial scholarship for the membership ran out, we weren't able to afford a membership there. Matt and I are trying really hard to get out of debt, and with only his income supporting our family of 5, it's just not something we can swing. But like many of you have encountered for yourselves, we are just over the limit of getting help. It really sucks being mostly broke.

So I emailed a plea letter to the director, asking him to sponsor my family. It's risky, because he may not even notice the letter in his inbox. But if there was ever a girl in need of a Y membership, it's this girl. Hopefully he will take pity on my situation, and see all the good I have done so far. Not just to make myself healthier, but helping others out there who needed a nudge. Or a shove.

I don't want to stay where I am. I want to keep losing. I want a healthy body mass index. I want the scale to be my friend, instead of the evil arch enemy of my mornings. I want to keep walking in the right direction towards my goal!!!

Speaking of stepping, I forgot to post a picture of the shoes that I painted for last night's outfit. I am doing that now, for those of you who are curious. I have an obsession for altering shoes. This is the second pair I have conquered, and I keep finding new ways to make them new and fresh. Anyhoo, I hope you like them!

An Animal on the Prowl

Maybe my horrormoans are raging, but the idea of sexy has been on my mind a lot this week. And since you shrinkites took away some fun ideas about how to incorporate sexy into your life, I thought I might show you firsthand how I am implementing sexy into tonight’s festivities. We are going to a high class Japanese restaurant in our neighboring town of Champaign, to help Tricky Nikki and my brother celebrate their 5th anniversary. Congrats you two. (Jason, don’t knock her up this weekend. Tricky Nikki has been pregnant and/or breastfeeding for the last 4 years. And she's tired of gaining and losing that 30 pounds of baby weight. She looks super hot now, so I know it will be tempting. But resist, dear brother, resist!)

The last time we all went out like this, it was the celebration of their 1st anniversary. We went out to dinner, then hit a few of the old stomping grounds from when Nik and I were both single. And it was a very fun night. We danced, had a few cocktails, and generally recaptured the essence of our youthful selves before the ravages of pregnancy and adulthood stole our misguided thunder. The boys (Matt and my brother, who was home on leave from Iraq) bet Nikki and I that we couldn’t consume numerous amounts of Jello concoctions, and we showed them that we were winners. While I don’t remember much after that, I know that the boys (who were stone cold sober) have had great fun teasing us for the last 4 years about our antics that night. (Including a very wobbly version of the Electric Slide. Hey, it was all the rage in 1996, and the Midwest is 2-5 years behind the trend, which means that in 1998, we were ahead of the curve!)

While tonight I have no intention of getting ripped off my butt like before, I am excited to do a few things tonight. One of those things is trying Japanese cuisine. This will be a first for me, because I am a sturdy Midwestern girl through and through. Meat, potatoes and salad with a roll suit me just fine. While I don’t have a torrid love affair with gravy as some people in my family do, there are some wonderful aspects of midwest simplicity that can’t be beat. So tonight I will be stepping out of my usual comfort zone, and trying something new. I have no clue what to order, but I’ll figure something out.

Next on the list is expanding my style wings. Fashion is extremely important when you are in transition between fat and sexy, especially on a celebratory night like tonight. I found a rocking sale and scored a dress for $7. Yes, $7 people. I was ecstatic! But I didn’t have any shoes to match the dress, so I made some. I had a pair of old taupe heels (with a pointy toe) and some fabric dye. I pained the shoes and gave them a broken in leather look that compliments the dress perfectly.

About the dress…now, you all know that I still have issues with the upper arms. While Lotte Berk seems to be toning them nicely, they are still jiggly. And not tiny. But sometime in the near future I am going to have to embrace this body once and for all. I need to appreciate it and be proud, considering where it came from.

I was watching Dr. Oz this week and he did a special on a mother and daughter who suffered and conquered breast cancer together. He gave them a fashion makeover (courtesy of my favorite stylist Tim Gunn) to help them celebrate their journey. And it got me to thinking…

(this is the part where you all cry in unison, “Uh-oh! Charlie’s been thinking! Look out!)

Do I have an outfit that celebrates how far I have come on my weight loss journey? Something that screams Charlie and embraces all the curves that are almost in the right places? Do I have a dress that makes people look twice when I walk by and shows them a confident woman who has accomplished what she once thought was impossible?

I looked in my closet, and there was no such dress.

So after perusing our sad mall here in Danville, I was left with only a few options. And a tight budget. I found a couple of dresses that might work, and headed into the dressing room. A decision like this can’t be made on a whim. I needed visual confirmation.

The first dress was a little black number that I was really excited to try. As I put in on, though, there was a glitch. It wouldn’t zip around my boobs. And it was too big in the waist. And it looked awful. So back on the hanger it went.

The second choice was a red strappy dress that screamed sexy. However, once it was on, it also screamed “Richard Gere, I’ll show you how to drive a stick shift and give you 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $3000!” (If you didn’t get that reference, I am utterly ashamed of you.) After practicing the "jewelry box snap and laugh" in the dressing room mirror, the red “professional dress” went back on the hanger. At which point the dressing room attendant knocked on the door and asked if I was OK. I giggled and said yes, then asked her if she worked on commission. She, very confused, said no. Dang it, I was going to say “Big mistake. Big. Huge!” Back to the dresses.

All I had left in the dressing room was door number 3. And I didn’t like number 3. Everything about it was wrong. On the hanger I thought it would be the hooker dress to beat all. I didn’t like the print, I didn’t like the shape. But it was the right size. So I gave it a whirl. And I was shocked. Completely shocked.

Because it did fit. Perfectly. The print worked on me because of my coloring. And I didn’t look like I was for hire by the hour. In fact, I almost looked classy. Then, I looked at the price tag, and it was $7, which fit even better than the dress itself!

One of the things I love about this dress is how I feel in it. I feel thin. I know that I am not thin yet, but this dress is a step in the right direction. It has cap sleeves, but I don’t feel self conscious about my arms at all. It hugs the waist, which looks little because of the print. And the bodice? Well, my husband is going to enjoy the view tonight.

So, your project over the weekend is to find an outfit that you love. It can be in your closet, it can be new, it can be a friend’s. But you MUST find something to wear that makes you feel good! What is it? Tell me all about it! Where would you wear it? What do you love about it? What does it say about you and your journey to health so far?

Mine apparently says that I have unleashed the beast within. And I love it!!!

I want my sexy back...

Brace yourself. This is going to be a most interesting conversation, to say the least.

So up until this last month, sexy was a word completely deleted from my vocabulary. Sexy was defined as something I saw others portraying, but it certainly wasn’t something I embraced. In my mind, there is nothing sexy about back fat unless it is hiding in the deep recesses of my girdle. Stretch marks can be hidden in the dark, but if your husband mistakenly and innocently cradles your stomach, thinking it is one of your “girls,” it can completely ruin the night’s events. All the romance in the world can’t bring you back quickly from an experience like that. Not that I was mad at him, but rather I was mad at myself. Something had to change.


And that something needed to be: changing my mental attitude from considering myself overweight and chubby to become embodiment of sexy. I want to make myself clear here. This is not so I can lure in others, because I am quite content to be a one man kind of girl. But being sexy in your mind is pretty important. It can change your whole outlook.


It’s the difference between shaving up to the knees once a week, or shaving every other day past your thighs. It’s the difference between wearing a hooded sweatshirt to the grocery store in the middle of summer cause you are too lazy to put on a bra (admit it, we’ve all done it at least once), or putting on a bra AND makeup in case you see somebody you know and want to present the best version of you that you can (in the town we live in, it’s hard NOT to see someone you know at the store. Unless you actually do have on makeup, then you don’t see anyone remotely familiar and you get disappointed because you went through all the effort. At least you looked good for the security cameras!). It’s the difference between sweat pants with crocs and fitted jeans with a nice red heal. Are you hearing me?


Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think that “sexy” has much to do with sex at all. It’s not about being uh…physically engaged with another person.

Sexy is learning to be deeply connected to yourself, to enjoy being you, and letting that joy spill over into the outward parts of your life.


Like food.


Yeppers, food can be quite sexy indeed.


There is something life changing about being attracted to your salad like it’s a green version of Brad Pitt (or insert another name of a person who is the epitome of sexy to you) and looking at that Totino’s party pizza like it’s Chris Farley. Sure, we all loved Chris Farley, and he’s great to watch from time to time. But remember the episode of Saturday Night Live when he was standing next to the beloved Patrick Swayze (I’ll miss him terribly) and they were both auditioning for Chippendale’s? There is no contest as to which one was sexier. So we have to figure out a way to make salad seem sexy to us. That’s what we must crave. That’s what we need. And making a salad sexy in our mind will make us feel sexier as well. And that will change everything- from our meal time habits to our actual bodies.


But it is most important for us to make the leap from fat to sexy on an emotional level. And here comes the hard part. How do we successfully sexify ourselves when we are in transition and don’t feel sexy at all?


I thought I would share some tips on how I have managed to change my brain from thinking of myself as a matronly mom to a hot mama, and have embraced the parts of me that I don’t really like at all…meaning my entire body.


1. Start from your drawers. Look in your underwear drawer. How many of your skivvies are older than your kids? (I admit, I still have a few from 10 years ago…) I don’t know about you, but some of my underwear could stand to see the inside of a trash bag. They have gone from white and crisp to grey and saggy. If your cotton undies have been bleached more times than your hair (or my hair, if you don't bleach), it’s time for them to go. Now, you also need to consider the style. When was the last time you purchased something with a little lace? Maybe a higher leg than your usual full coverage knickers? I’m not saying that granny panties can’t be useful, but if they are the only kind you wear 4 weeks out of the month instead of 1 week, then GET SOME VARIETY. No one else may see what you are wearing under your jeans. But if you have satin hugging your curves, you will naturally perk up your sexiness. It comes from the bottom up. In this case, quite literally.


2. Pretend you are the most beautiful person in the room. It’s easy to do if you are all alone. But if you are in a public setting, this is pretty useful. Just pretend you are like nothing anyone has ever seen before (in a good way, of course), look others in the eye, and SMILE. It’s important to remember that nothing is more powerful than someone who is genuine, so smile like you mean it. No beauty pageant Vasaline on the teeth smiles. If you reach out and take this step, people are going to notice that you have confidence enough to be real. And ladies, confidence is sexy. It may not make people buy you flowers or ask you on rendezvous to Paris (which is not our goal here anyway) but it will show people that you may have something wonderful to say, and that you are going to be a great person to get to know. Confidence is sexy.


3. It’s time for some diaper duty. No, not babies, necessarily, but it is time to pamper yourself. When was the last time you had a makeover? Most department stores offer makeovers at their cosmetics counters for free. So do companies like Avon and MaryKay. Learn a new make-up technique. Get a facial. Get a pedicure. The point is, you have got to take pride in you. As a mom, there have been many days when I was lucky to get a shower in. That has got to change. If you need to, ask a friend to come over and watch your youngins for an hour while you go upstairs and do all the girlie things we should be doing. Or call a salon and get a new doo. We just can’t be content to wash our faces and brush our teeth if we want to feel sexy again.


4. DO NOT, under any circumstances, fall into the trap of waxing or shaving bare…uh, you know where. I debated about talking about this, but you all love my honesty, so honest you are going to get. See, every 6 weeks or so, I get a little overzealous with my razor. And I always start off with the intent to just hit the bikini line, and trim things down. Trimming is good. Shaving is BAD. Not at first, when things are all smooth and fine. But day two, when you get a 5 o’clock shadow in your fruit of the looms, things are not so fine anymore. Worst part is, there’s nothing you can do besides wait till things grow out. And heaven forbid you start your period in that growing out stage and need an always. Stubble sticks and catches on the mesh lining of the pad and you wind up with discomfort to levels you never knew possible. Nothing is less sexy than me digging at my goodie patch trying to relieve the itching of a shave and a haircut on my two bits. Or succumbing to the relief that can only be found by applying diaper rash ointment to get rid of the irritation. (Works like a charm, but the ointment smells awful.) As far as the waxing goes, I have never been brave enough to get it done. I’ve had my eyebrows waxed, and I choose to pluck them myself instead. Besides, I have a hard enough time going spread eagle at the OBGYN, let alone in a salon where you know that gossip is the only form of communication. At least in the Dr’s office, they are sworn to confidentiality. Too bad they don’t offer some waxing services there…


So I hope that you will look for ways to incorporate sexiness into your life as you are changing and shrinking. Just my random thoughts for the day.


And the video I was going to make? Well, let’s just say that my hair (which is no longer pink but a really odd color) didn’t look so hot on the movie we tried to make. So this weekend I am going back to my usual blonde. As soon as I do, I will get back on the vlogs.


Till then, however, I have decided that wearing a hat is sexy…

Famous First Words

If there was one thing I could say to someone starting a diet, just like this girl was 1 year ago...what would I say?

Would I tell her that buying 100 calorie packs of imitations Oreos can make you go broke and they will never taste as good as the originals?

Would I share that walking is the best way to exercise, and you can do it anywhere, as long as you have good shoes and good music or great conversation?

Would I tell her that the best diet secret is to stuff yourself with determination and to stock up on it like its toilet paper?

Hmmm, these are all good tips, to be sure. But they aren't really what I would share with someone who is on day one of her diet. What is the most important thing I can say, one year into this crazy journey, that might give a new dieter the upper hand to help change her life?

This is gonna hurt.

Yes, that is exactly what I would tell her. Not to fill her full of fear, or make her run screaming from steamed vegetables (not that I would blame her for running), yet I think the statement - this is gonna hurt- is a fair statement to give her edge she will need to keep going.

If someone had told me in the beginning of my twenties what being a parent is really like, the late nights, the fighting among siblings, the practicing of name writing on walls with a Sharpie marker, I would have still had kids. In fact, even after managing a munchkin driven life for 9 years now, fully knowing how hard it is, I still want more pint sized tornadoes to add to my chaos. The difference is that now I am better prepared than I was when I first started shooting them out in 21 shotgun salute formation, because I know that parenting is tough.

I know there will be sleepless nights with teething babies, toddlers with ear aches, and that every nice shirt in my closet is a potential napkin. I know that my kids will say embarrassing things. They'll ask tough questions like "Mommy, why did God give women long boobs?" when they see me streaking in the living room to the basket of clean clothes where my bra is located. I know what I am getting into now. But knowing what it's like doesn't change my mind. It just makes me realize the importance of owning more than one set of washers and dryers, and the necessity of at least 2 toilets in the house. And of course a sound proof tower so I can lock them up (Rapunzel style) when they hit puberty and members of the opposite sex start calling. Don't think I'm gonna budge on that one either.

So it would only be fair if I told someone the truth about dieting. The truth that all the diet gurus out there gloss over, which makes a woman feel inadequate after she realizes it, which will send her on a tail spin of yo-yo dieting for the next 20 years, until she owns a complete set of jeans in every size between 6 and 26 (and still has nothing to wear, of course). It would be the right thing to do, telling the truth, like I wish someone had told me a year ago. And I think I'll practice what I would say to her right here.

"YAY!!!! I am excited that you are starting a new life of dieting, and I will be here for you, to support, encourage and assist you however I can. That is what I do, free of charge, because I want nothing more than to see you succeed and feel like you can do anything. But I'm not going to lie to you. What you are about to embark on, this new diet...well- this is gonna hurt. In fact, this is going to hurt worse than you can imagine.

This is going to hurt your body, because you have to make it work harder than it ever has before.

This is going to hurt your wallet, because crap food is cheap, and fresh food is going to cost you a lot more.

This is going to hurt some of your friendships, because some friends will ask you to 'live a little' and entice you to eat things that could set you back a week, and will be put out if you tell them no.

This is going to hurt your pride, because the fact is that you won't lose weight every time you step on the scale, and it's going to make you feel like a failure.

When you do feel like a failure, it's going to hurt your ego to keep going forward, wondering with every bite if you have what it takes to go the distance.

But even when this diet hurts your body, you will find strength that you never knew you had, physically. Even emotionally and mentally.

When it hurts your wallet, know that you are saving your life with each day you strive for health.

When it hurts your friendships, think of how eating right and working out is the best possible way to 'live a little' and maybe try to drag them along.

When the diet plateaus and it hurts your pride, step into the jeans you wore when you were at your heaviest, and it will change your definition of what pride really is.

When your ego is challenged and hurt and you don't feel like going on, just keep putting one foot in front of the other. You can't expect to change your body overnight. You have to work for it day after day.

So yeah, this is gonna hurt. But it's worth it.

It's worth embracing whole grains and fresh fruit and sweaty bras and fat girl yoga dvds and sore muscles and saying no to junk food- saying hello to a new lifestyle so you can shrink. The most amazing thing is while you are shrinking, you are going to grow like you wouldn't believe. And that makes all the pain worth it in the end. Not to mention your end will look better than ever!"

I just hope that whoever you are out there, embarking on your own day one, you will listen and be encouraged. It took me forever to learn these things, and I am happy to share them with you. You can do this. If I can do this, and I am the worst kind of dieter there is, then I know you can.

I am going to go do my painful Lotte Berk now, and I hope you know by now that I am happy to hurt. It means I still have a fighting chance to win! As long as I keep fighting and hurting, I may, one day soon, wear a single digit size. Till then, I'm going to look at how far I have come from this time last year... maybe I'll even make a video for you all tonight. Check back tomorrow to see some good clean fun about how much I have shrunk!

And if this is your day one...well, you have started your journey on the right foot. Just hang in there and make it to day two. That is your only goal for today. But you aren't alone!!! I'm hanging in there to make it to day 366. That's my only goal for today. And I'm doing pretty good so far!