Confessions of a Dieter

Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been 3 weeks since I documented my last weigh in, and it isn’t pretty. I have been stuck at a particular unsightly weight for over a month now, and I got frustrated. I got irritated. I also cheated. As long as I am confessing, I have broken more than a few of the 10 commandments in the process, and I never thought dieting would cause me to sin. Oh, but is has, dear Father, it has!


It all started on Thursday of this past week. I was 6 ounces from hitting 20 pounds of weight loss. I was so excited to finally push past the plateau, and I was determined to hit that 20 pounds on Friday morning. That was when my gift from mother nature arrived, and alas, my “horror-moans” interfered. So did water retention. And a foul attitude. And I did not hit my goal. I was so doggone mad, Father, that I ate french fries for supper. And a roll with lots of butter. And a big fat piece of chicken with cheese and bacon- all of which are cardinal sins for the diet. I really blew it. And I was truly remorseful over my foodie sins, Lord.


Apparently, though, I am able to hold a grudge against myself even better than I hold onto my weight, because Saturday didn’t go much better.


Oh, it tried to start off better, just like your mercies are new every morning. I packed a lunch for my day at Lincoln, filled with school, family/friends, and even a performance of Godspell. I thought about the choices that would be good for me, as penance for my french fries. I thought of everything! And I did really good till about 3pm.


I suppose there is no need for me to mention that by 3pm, I had been awake for 14 hours straight, because I was so obsessive over my homework I got up at 1:30am on Saturday morning to work on it. So I kind of blame my utter exhaustion, Lord. I do. I wasn’t thinking in my right mind. I was running on empty, and those durn cupcakes were like well planted temptation, promising that the sugar rush would refill my empty tank.


In my defense, Father, I only had one half of the smallest cupcake in that kitchen. Although the other half was removed from my hand by my cousin, who proclaimed, “You don’t need this. Let me help you.” He was an angel from you ,Lord! I just know it! Even if it did require a little bit of brute force to pry the teeny tiny half of heaven that was clutched in my greedy paws. It took every ounce of strength not to lick the wrapper of the cupcake. But then the angel would have laughed in my face.


Then came dinner. I had been up for 16 hours at this point, and it was an all you can eat buffet. Now, for the record, I did make good choices on the salad bar. I only had a small serving of dressing on my salad, 8 pieces of pasta in the pasta salad. But it was the steak and those confounded French fries again, Lord, that did me in. I was like a dog that was savored table scraps for the first time. There was no stopping me. I even had a sliver of bread pudding, since I had already blown it. Forgive me, Father. I sinned against you, my body, and my body of readers. It was delicious, but I know it couldn’t possibly taste as good as weighing less than 200 pounds would feel.


Oh, but the temptations didn’t stop there. It was on the way home that the real storm blew in. I don’t understand how it happened, Lord! You know that my night vision is horrific. I am practically blind after the sun goes down. So how is it that I happened to spot a miniscule sign in the gas station that announced they sold Krispy Kreme donuts? And why was the delivery guy there at that exact moment, placing fresh goods in the display cabinet? That is really not fair, Lord, and if we were keeping score, I would count that as a trap; I am simply a victim of profiling. Seriously. I had then been up for 22 hours, and had not one ounce of self control left in me. My sweet husband, who has had NO problems getting to his goal weight, was just trying to make me happy. So he turned the van around and we went into the den of gasoline and calories.


I know that even in my weakness, Lord, you were watching me, because you had 2 angels inside the store, just by happenstance. They were hanging out at the counter, finishing up their purchase, and I KNEW THEM! I was over 50 miles from home, in a town with 500 people, and I KNEW the girls at the counter. I should have walked back to the van right then and there. But I was a woman on a mission, Lord, and not one sanctioned by you.


Belinda and Kathleen saw us, and I admitted that I saw the Krispy Kreme sign and was going to get one donut. Belinda said, “Oh, but only one, Charlie, because you are doing so well…you really are!”


I PROMISED her that there would only be one donut in my gullet by the end of the evening. And I was determined that would be the case. Until I realized that they had glazed donuts AND the ones filled with icing. Lord, my appetite had already been whet for icing from that half a cupcake, and I literally started to drool internally. So I just had to get 2 donuts. But that was all I was getting. Then I had to get some milk to go with them (because who can eat a donut without milk?) but I got skim. It wasn’t all bad!


As we got into the van, Matt and I should’ve driven away. It would have been the prudent thing to do. That was when I noticed that we only had a 1/4th of a tank of gas left. I was just sure that there wouldn’t be another gas station for miles. At least not one that had fresh Krispy Kremes within its walls. So we sat in the parking lot, filling our gas tank and bellies. And would you believe the fricking fracking icing donut didn’t taste nearly good as I expected! It just didn’t! And I wasn’t satisfied with only one glazed donut. I was already mentally committed to having 2 donuts. So when Matt went in to pay for the gas, I had him get me not one, but 2 more glazed donuts! I snarfed them down really fast so I wouldn’t have to think about breaking my promise to Belinda of only getting one.


When I woke up on Sunday, Lord, I was a broken woman. I was now going to have to lose 3 pounds to get to my 20 pound loss, instead of 6 ounces. So to console myself, I had French fries just one more time that night.


Sweet Jesus, I am back on the straight and narrow today. And for this weekend, I can only express to you how stupid I was to let something as small as a donut cause me such turmoil and make me fall into the depths. This week, I suppose I have a few things I need to do to make up for the wretched way I dieted this weekend.

1. I need to make sure that I mentally keep my brain in check. Exhaustion leads to poor food choices because I just don’t care what I eat if I am sleepy.

2. I need to apologize to Belinda for not keeping my word to her.

3. I need to wear the size 18 jeans when they are fresh out of the dryer so I can feel them squeeze my big butt and remind me of the price for falling into the hole. (of a donut that is) (make that 3 holes)

4. I need to figure out what it is that is keeping me from obtaining the less than 200 mark. I obviously have something internally that is holding me back, and it needs to go.

5. I need to never ever ever take my eyes off the road I am traveling on, lest I see another Krispy Kreme sign that will cause me to fall.


So there is my confession, Father. I humbly ask for your forgiveness, and pray that this week you give me the strength to apply myself and get back to being 6 ounces short. Because I really don’t deserve to hit the magical 20 this week. And, not that you need to be told what to do, but I would appreciate it if you could add an 11th commandment added to the list.


“I do-nut need donuts.”

Scholarships, Walls, and Tampons- A Very Charlie Message

All right, dear readers, we are going to take a little departure from the dieting escapade and get serious for a moment. But you all know that serious with me is still fun, so stick with this, OK?

There is a contest going on for a free scholarship to attend the SheSpeaks conference this summer, provided by Proverbs 31 Ministry. This is a great organization, and if you have never checked them out, you are missing out on some serious faith building. They are committed (in more ways than one, I think! ;) to helping women draw closer to God, and as I have mentioned before on OSCBB, I am a preacher in training, so they are a part of my daily routine with their devotionals. It is also confirmed that they have checked out our hidden gem of a blog, and enjoyed it (see the comments after the previous post- Why Gas Hurts the Local Economy). This scholarship is worth over $500, and that is a lot of moola! The terms of the scholarship found at

http://lysaterkeurst.blogspot.com/2009/03/she-speaks-scholarship-contest-for.html

and I figured I might have a go at it. I am already planning on attending, but the cost is pretty steep when I tack on the air fare (plus all the extras I am signing up for). And the benefits of this conference would be immeasurable for me, as you will read below. This conference gives information on the nitty gritty of what I want to do, and how to do it well. I’ll even get a chance to meet with a publisher! I really don’t expect to win, but God does amazing things, so we will just wait and see what happens!

Finally, as you read this post, I will advise you that we are going to talk a little about my faith in Jesus Christ. I KNOW many of you readers are not necessarily Christian, or affiliated with any faith in general. But if you could, just for me, JUST THIS ONCE, keep reading. You all know about my hips, my boobs, my car, my diet, and my family. It’s high time that I introduced you to my main squeeze and Savior, Jesus. Our relationship is just as nutty as the rest of my life, so I promise that this will be interesting!!!

OK, hold on to your hats- cause you are in for a ride!

My Faith is a Tampon
(C’mon now, did you ever doubt my ability to make this fun?)

I have purchased over 5,000 tampons in my life. I just did the math. 17 years, a box a month, it all adds up. I have probably passed 40 or 50 under the walls of a public bathroom stall, and have had to accept just as many over the years. I even had to use one as my “something borrowed” an hour before my wedding ceremony when Matt and I got hitched! And it got me to thinking as I crunched the numbers.

Is my faith as accessible to others as my tampons are?

I keep extra tampons in my purse at all times, just in case someone needs them. There is no shame in asking a complete stranger for something so intimate and personal to a woman. In fact, this rite of passage unites us in a strange way. I still remember the first time I heard that all too familiar question from a stall 3 doors down from me. “Does anyone have a tampon?” I sure did, and I passed that to the woman next to me, who passed it to the woman next to her, who gave it to our unseen stranded friend.

But when it comes down to it, my faith gets hidden a lot. I keep it tucked away in my purse of my heart. I tend to qualify who receives the message God has placed on my heart, making sure they are ready to hear it, giving lots of disclaimers about it (“I don’t mean to offend you, but…”), and tiptoeing around feelings. I’m pretty sure that this is not what God intended when He gave the call to teach, preach, and make disciples in every nation. His Word was meant to be out in the open, for all to see, and available to all.

Part of my secretiveness is due to the utter disaster zone I have made of my life. Folks, there is not a person in the world who could have sinned more than me! And some of you know this first hand because you were right there with me! I look at the mess my life has been and think that my witness to share the gospel has been destroyed. Maybe to some of you it has, and for that- I am so sorry that you had to see me at my worst, and I am horrified that I made a mockery of the name of Christ. My most sincerest apologies cannot ever cover the scope of my sorrow over how I may have led you astray.

Another reason I am so guarded with my faith is that I am still growing and learning myself. My faith has been a lot like the diet. Loss, then a gain, then a loss, then a gain…it isn’t fair that I have to put you through that up and down.

Or is it?

Over the last year, God has been doing some pretty amazing things in my life. I am SO FAR from where I want to be with Him, but yet I can’t contain my excitement for what He is doing right now!!! There is a story in the Bible that describes exactly where I am, and it is found in Joshua 6, verses 4 through 20. I am not going to make you read it all, but I will give you the highlights. Joshua had been told by God that he needed to enter into the city of Jericho with the Israelite nation. There was a catch, though, just like there’s always a catch in my life. There was a wall around the city of Jericho. It was over a foot thick, and anywhere from 35-40 feet tall. They had to get over that huge wall, somehow. Lucky for them, God had a plan. They had to march around the city, blowing trumpets and praising God. Let’s take a quick peek at verses 12 through 14.

12 Then Joshua rose early in the morning, and the priests took up the ark of the LORD. 13 And the seven priests bearing the seven trumpets of rams’ horns before the ark of the LORD walked on, and they blew the trumpets continually. And the armed men were walking before them, and the rear guard was walking after the ark of the LORD, while the trumpets blew continually. 14 And the second day they marched around the city once, and returned into the camp. So they did for six days.

Did you see how long they had to march? 6 days without any progress that the human eye could see! I wonder how they felt as they gathered up their horns and the ark of the covenant on the morning of day 6, only to determine that nothing was really happening? I bet they felt discouraged and frustrated. Maybe even a little stupid as they had to make noise and draw attention to themselves. People are people, and people are nosy. I look out the window when I hear a siren that is maybe miles away, wondering if I will catch a glimpse of the current event. So I can imagine the scuttlebutt going on inside the walls of Jericho, talking about those crazy Israelites who were marching around the city for no reason at all. I bet they were lined up on top of the wall to see what in the world these children of God were doing!

The good news is the story ends well. On the 7th day, Joshua 6:20 tells us that the walls of the city fell down flat and the Israelites were able to overtake the city, just as God promised.

SO- what does the wall of Jericho have to do with me, my faith and tampons? Ladies and gentlemen- (those of you men brave enough to stick around after my talking about tampons, that is…) I am marching around the place that God has planned for me. Right now, I am circling it, it’s so close I can reach out and touch it, but it isn’t mine yet. Honestly, it feels like I am on day 6 of the marching. I’ve been going round and round for a while, just waiting for the walls to fall down so I can go in. I might not have the biggest faith everyday, which is the up and down of this life, but doggone it, I am still marching! And I may not have a trumpet, but my kazoo is blasting out as loud as I can get it. These walls are going to fall down!

And where, exactly, do I think God is leading me? What is it that I am marching around that is calling me day in and day out? I know, you are all on the edge of your seats!

My job is to hand out the tampons (my faith) so that everyone is prepared. I need to throw them out so women can catch them, with enough to pass out in their own bathroom stalls (their homes, workplaces, and among their friends). My goal is to help women become more confident about sharing their own faith and have fun along the way! You all know that I am a gifted writer (and thanks for all the kudos, by the way), a songwriter and singer, and now I am going to pass on the big secret. I LOVE TO TALK. Big surprise, yeah? I could stand in front of a thousand women and make them laugh, cry, and learn to love Jesus and themselves a litter deeper than they ever thought possible. It’s not because of my own talent, but because God has decided to use me, Charlie: sinner extraordinaire, with big mouth and a big butt, and a whole lot of spunk. God asked me to step up to the plate and be real and honest with women about my struggles; my past riddled with physical abuse from my dad and my ex husband, my need to be accepted at any cost and how that has really messed me up, and my redemption- spending time broken at the foot of the cross because no other place wanted me. Even about my fight with weight loss, and how that has turned out to be the hardest task yet! No wonder life has been such a journey for me- I was just getting stamps in my passport of life so I could prove I have been around the block!

So my faith really is a tampon. It’s not pretty, it’s rather embarrassing to get for the first time, it’s important to share, AND IT IS NECESSARY.

I have to share this story with you. When Tim was 2, I found him on my bathroom floor, surrounded by a box of open tampons. They were all over the place, opened and had been, um, how shall I put this? Ah, yes. SPRUNG.

I asked him what he was doing, and he took the last unopened tampon from the box, ripped it open and hit the bottom of the tampon on his palm, popping the tampon out of its applicator. He grinned and said, “Look Mama! ROCKETS!!!”

People, it’s about time that I let my faith take off like a rocket. I’ve got places to go, and I pray that you will come with me.

Ten…nine…eight…


If anyone would like more information about the conference, please check out this link.
http://www.shespeaksconference.com/

Why gas hurts the local economy

So, it has been a while since I blogged for you, my good friends. I deeply apologize for that. I really do. Some of you have been more patient than others, but those of you who are emailing me and telling me to get a new post up…well, this one is for you.
First of all, I had an email come from a fellow in Chicago. He said that he assumed that since I had not written lately, that the operation was over and the butt had won. Fellow from Chicago, let me assure you, the butt has NOT won. In fact, it has been shrinking quite a bit. Maybe not in massive quantities, but some of you know, any shrinkage is still shrinkage. 13.25 inches in 4 weeks is fantastic, even though I only lost 2 pounds. Muscle is smaller than fat, but a pound of muscle weighs the same as a pound of fat. Nevertheless, there was shrinkage!
Another email came from somewhere deep in the heart of Kentucky. Several requests from Kentucky, actually, asking me to update the blog because it was found to be very enjoyable. This lovely reader also sent me a recipe for an excruciating exercise routine, promising that it would burn far more calories than walking on the treadmill alone. This recipe, called speed intervals, required a fair amount of endurance and coordination, neither of which I possess. And I gave it a whirl, even though I couldn’t make it to the top speed of 9 MPH. I couldn’t even hit 7MPH. I did hit 6, for a whopping 60 seconds before I felt my lungs catch fire and the blood was searing through my body in an effort to restore order to my failing organs and overheated appendages. Matt looked very concerned when I was speed training, and I think until I drop a few more pounds, I need to give it a rest. The structural integrity of the treadmill was put to the test as my feet pounded the belt, and I was afraid afterwards I was going to have to call in the warranty. But she still seems to be flying, so all is well. I jokingly tell you that the speed training came from the girl who used to be my arch nemesis in elementary school. 10 years ago I would have deemed that the reason that she sent me this radical routine. However, I do not believe that to be the case today. I am going to think it is because she knows that I am a fighter, and capable of much more than I give myself credit for. Maybe that’s because I was always able to give her a run for her money in grade school. Now, she is giving me a run for mine. Thanks, Amy, and I mean that from the bottom. Of my heart, of course!
OK, so there is the old business. Now, onto new business.
For those of you out there whom I have never met face to face, I am going to let you in on a little information about me. First of all, I do not possess one ounce of grace or class. It just isn’t in me. Never has been. I am the kind of girl who trips on nothing, spills coffee on her white shirt, and just this Sunday, right before church where I was singing in front of the congregation, the water fountain exploded on my red satin shirt as I was taking a final drink and heading to the platform to begin service. I sang my praises to God with watermarks all over my boobs. I don’t try to let any of this get to me, but yesterday, my situation was a little more embarrassing than usual. Have I piqued your curiosity yet?
So, in my quest to live a healthier life, I have stopped eating 90% of the fat and processed foods that I normally do. I am eating a diet rich in natural fiber, and it has done some interesting things to my body. First of all, deodorant no longer works for me. I have always been a sweater (not the knitted kind, but the yucky kind) and I usually applied deodorant twice a day B.D. (before diet). Now, without all the crap and junk that I eat clogging up my sweat glands, I am pouring out perspiration like a geyser! And it’s not just wet. It’s foul. Adding to the complications, I have very sensitive skin. This means that I am limited to a select quantity of products. All of which would keep the stink off a toddler with no body odor at all who is wiped down with baby wipes every 3 hours. After spending over $50 on products that are clinical strength only to have them break me out (and trust me, no one likes to have what looks like chicken pox on their armpits with no deodorant when they are running speed intervals) it's annoying to have people scrunch up their noses when they walk past you. I can't help it!
The other oddity I am experiencing is another geyser function. Along with the constant moisture, there is a flow of gas that comes with it. I am usually in control of the situation, to TOOT my own horn, but yesterday was not my best day for muscle retention. Matt and I had done Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred, barely made it through, (the first 15 minutes, that is) and I am not ashamed to tell you that every single muscle fiber of my body hurt on Monday. It even hurt to bend my knees to sit down!
So yesterday, I had a huge list of errands and commitments to do. I started the day by volunteering at my children’s school. My mom happens to be a teacher there, so I just work in her room to get my hours in. It’s mandatory for all parents, not just me. I went in and got straight to work, putting letters on a sign for the front window of her classroom. Now, considering that I was not in control of any of my muscles, I suffered a thigh cramp while just sitting down. And then I felt that all too familiar bloating that comes with having a severe gas bubble in your belly.
So I held it as long as I could. I mean, I was cinching my cheeks together so tight, Fort Knox would have been proud. I was waiting for the perfect moment to let ‘er rip, and I finally got to the point that I could hold it no longer. Plus, I couldn’t dare to get up and head to the bathroom to pass the gas. It was beyond the point of holding.
So I tried to squeak it out as quiet as possible. And it was pretty quiet. It was also terribly noxious. If it had only been my mom in the room, I would have let it just hit her. She has done that to me on more than one occasion while shopping, not telling me where the air bomb was laid, and just let me walk right into it. Then we have to go through the whole “OH, Mom, was that you?” Then “Margaret the Saint” would just grin and say, “Let’s move. There was another one.” She is the queen of the sneaky farts.
But my mother was not the only potential victim in the room. There was also a young student teacher in the room. Tall, young, thin, perfectly made up and perky, this poor girl was sharing the space as well. They were hanging out on the other side of the room, safe from harm’s way, until the proprietors of education decided to come over where I was to check something out. I was going to have to try to save face. I was the only other person in the room.
“Um, I am sorry guys, but I just farted, and I need to warn you to stay over there for a few more minutes.” It was the only thing I could say. Humiliating, honest, and humble.
Young student teacher girl stared at me with wide eyes for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then she finally burst out into giggles, which turned into gales of laughter. My mom, never one to pass up a good laugh, joined in and asked if I needed the air freshner spray. They both had a good laugh at my expense (rightly so) and heeded the advice, staying far on the other side of the room. When they did finally head back over, they gave the air a test sniff before marching into enemy territory.
I had to leave for an eye exam about 10ish, so I headed to the van and tried to pass as much wind as I possibly could. After all, eye exams are in dark little rooms with no ventilation and a stranger. The entire drive I had the window open and was going to town. But it worked, and I was able to contain myself for the next 45 minutes. No one went blind because of me.
My last stop was picking up cat food for Puppy. I really hate going to Walmart, so I stopped by the dollar store. I did a few “fart and walks” in the store, but nothing major. I went up to the cash register where they had put a teeny tiny sign that said the debit card machine was down, and they could only take cash or checks. I had just wasted 20 minutes. And the gas was welling up again. So I headed to Big Lots.
Now, for those of you who do not have a Big Lots in your area, you are truly missing out on the ultimate Midwest experience. You get to see it all. Rich people slumming, white trash switching price tags, and then there are the lunchers. They come to Big Lots to kill time. And to people watch, like me. You never know who or what you will see there.
So I head into the store, and I realize that there is a huge issue with the gas situation. I have no choice but to find an uninhabited spot and let it go. I walk up to the garden area in the front of the store, frankly, people, it’s Big Lots. I really don’t care what people think of me in Big Lots. So I let it go. It sounded like a machine gun firing out. “Put-put-put-put-put-put-put-put-put-PUT!” And the smell was overwhelming. It even made me think like a five year old for a minute, giggling uncontrollably.
That was about the time two of the richies, who were slumming and lunching, arrived on the scene. By this time, I had moved around the corner from the mushroom cloud of destruction, and because of the open shelves, I could hear the ladies as they walked into ground zero.
“Oh, my gosh! I didn’t know Big Lots sold fertilizer!”
“I don’t think they do!”
As I was scooting quickly away, trying not to giggle, I heard one of them say, “Someone must have passed gas. I bet they are still nearby. Let’s try to guess who it was.”
By this point, I was practically running to the back of the store, trying to stay as far away from the detective duo. I knew if they looked in my eyes, they would know that it was me.
I grabbed the items I needed and headed up to the cash register, and on the way, I saw two women pointing and laughing with tears streaming down their faces as they assumed it was the little old lady with blue hair.
My secret was safe for now. They would never find out that it was me, the incredible shrinking woman. Unless they happen to read this blog. Or you hear the story from a friend and tell them I’m the culprit. Then I’ll never be able to show my face in Big Lots again. And I spend lots of money there.
I guess the cost of gas really has risen out of control.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Want to Lose Weight?

Here comes the hard part...

Are YOU ready to lose some weight???

There are many options, but I only endorse the ones that I know are healthy and will work. Only the best for MY wonderful readers!!!

Disclaimer: ANY DIET will fail if YOU DECIDE TO LET IT. It doesn’t matter which ones of these programs you like or choose- if you don’t have a big butt load of determination, then you will not find the success you are looking for. Also, exercise is key. You won’t see results if you do diet OR exercise alone. You have to do them together.

Before you start looking at these options, please read this post about my journey.

Diet Programs-

Weight Watchers: This is the program that I am using. I admit, I tried it in the past with no luck. But this time was different, because of my attitude alone. I recommend the online program. Under $20 a month, and all the tools you need. (PS- I heart my WW calculator. I use it almost every day!)

Jenny Craig: This program is fine, if you have money to blow or don’t have to feed an army of kids like I do. The principles are great, but the cost is high. You have been warned.

Nutrisystem: Same feelings here as I have with Jenny Craig. Good, but costly. (You are better off with Weight Watchers, in my opinion.)


TOPS (Taking Off Pounds Sensibly) : Great program- LOW COST ($26 annually) in most cities, but I have not personally met someone who had success with them. That does not mean they aren’t out there, that just means I’m socially stunted.


Exercise Programs-

Walking: NO COST, and really fun if you have a gaggle of girls to do it with. I have a walking group here in Danville, Illinois, but you can start one ANYWHERE!!!!


Fat Girl Yoga DVD: Officially this is called “Just my Size Yoga with Megan Garcia” and I highly recommend it. Have from the first time I completed the DVD. It’s hard to find, and only on Amazon. Check your local library to see if they have it first before you buy it.

It's Fun to Sweat at the YMCA: Get a membership for your whole family. Seriously. Think you can’t afford it? YMCA’s have financial scholarships available. Call and ask. You’ll be glad you did. I personally belong to the Danville Family YMCA and I love it!!!



Unpaid Procuct Endorsements-

Products and foods that I live on: I covered these in a post a while back. Linking it up so you can see what Charlie can’t live without.




If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, contact me at oscbb@yahoo.com to let me know if I missed something major. I am sticking with programs available in both cities and rural areas, which explains why the list is limited.

I DO NOT ENDORSE diets that are impossible or unhealthy to follow, like fad diets, pills and supplements (other than a daily multivitamin), or low to no carb diets. These things are not good for you in the long run, and dieting is a lifestyle change, not something you do for 6 months then go back to your old ways. Trust me on this one, folks!

Contact Charlie

I would love to hear what you have to say!!! As long as it's nice! haha

Contact me with letters or personal stuff at:

Charlie Hester

(217) 213-2188
If you call- please please please be respectful about the times of day you ring me. Thanks!

oscbb@yahoo.com

I always answer emails. I'm an email junkie. Or make me a friend on Facebook. My badge is on the right hand side of the blog, (over there ----->) and let me know when you send the friend request that you came from the Triple B- Big Butt Blog.

Otherwise, if that's too much effort, just leave a comment on one of my stories. I do my best to reply to every comment left on my posts. But if I don't, there may be a reason why. If your email is not enabled on your google profile, or you leave it anonymously, then I can't get a hold of you and I will not search for how to contact you.

If you would like to get a reply but don't want to enable your email address for whatever reason, leave your email addy on your comment, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Cause I try to be good like that.

You support me, I want to support you back too!

Need a Speaker?

Do you need a speaker for your event?

Have you ever wanted to have a rip roaring bellylaugh-fest at your function? Are you tired of boring speakers that turn your audience into sleepy listeners that have been lulled to serious state?

Would you like to take a chance on a God fearing, family loving, diet hating, exercise loathing optimistic, humorous gal like me?

Then contact me at oscbb@yahoo.com with the word “Speaker” in the subject line. My only requirements are the cost of travel and a love offering for churches, or a small fee for other groups. And I’m willing to travel just about anywhere.

ESPECIALLY PARIS AND HAWAII.

If you have a particular topic or theme that you would like to discuss, mention that in your email, and I’ll see if I can whip something up. I’ll work with you.

Cooperate events, church functions, MOPS groups, ladies days, whatever…I have a whole arsenal of humor brewing.

We can make your special event a hit!

So shoot me an email, and let's see what we can work out!

(I also can talk about subjects like abuse, domestic violence, divorce, and the prodigal son syndrome, but these topics aren't as funny. Just wanted to throw them out there so you don't think I'm a one note speaker!!!)

Dear precious readers-

I started this blog as a joke. Operation Shrink Charlie’s Big Butt was a Facebook status that got shocking laughter after I had lost my first 12 pounds, and was working the diet at 226. (If you do the math, I started at 238.)

After that, the blog simply took on a life of its own.

And so did the diet.

It has been a heavyweight championship fight from the beginning. I have struggled with weight since I was 8 years old, always being too fat for my age/height/life. It took a really bad picture of me on Christmas morning to wake me up and show me the light.

I could do this. I could lose the weight. I just had to make the diet a priority. Which isn’t exactly easy.

Because my life is brimming with good things and distractions.

Like marriage. I happen to be married to a super hot and wonderful fella, Matt, who loves the stuffings out of me.

And the kids. Amy, Natalie, and Tim, who are all 10 and under. Super smart, and it takes a lot of work for Matt and I to stay one step ahead of them.

And my faith. Which should really be top o’ the list for good things, because Jesus has saved my not-so-scrawny neck more than once. And more than twice. It’s impossible to keep score at this point of my life all the miracles He has thrown at me. But He keeps sticking around, so I do too.

And school. I was attending Lincoln Christian University till I couldn’t afford it. But I’ll make it back one of these days.

And my music. I am a self proclaimed song writer. Sure, I can’t play piano worth a crap, but I do it well enough to get the point across, while only slightly embarrassing myself.

And I keep writing on my books. I have one completed manuscript and 3 other books in progress. Including the weight loss book “Dancing from Fat to Freedom.”

So the diet had to become a priority. When this blog started becoming a cult classic (at least in my own mind) I realized that this did something more than tell a funny story about diet and exercising. It brought a community of women together. All of whom are struggling with weight, just like me!

So “About Charlie” really couldn’t have happened without the people “Around Charlie.”

The comments and emails and phone calls are my support system, my life line, and the reason I keep working this diet. I keep counting calories because of you. Because we all need to know that it can happen. That we can conquer the weight.

I’m just the (idiot) lucky duck who is going first!

67 pounds and counting!

Pics of the Journey

Dear Quincy Coleman-

Please don't sue me for using your song "Take a Chance."

It is my unofficial theme song, and when I walk my 8 miles, this is the song I start with. And end with. And usually repeat 2 or 12 times along the way. Watch the video and you will understand!!! I think you are top drawer!!!

Love-

Your biggest fan, Charlie

Just My Thighs Yoga: The Adventures of Puppy and the Maxi Pad

Before I begin this story, I would like to assure any male readers that this a gender friendly story. Um, mostly. "Maxi Pad" is a basset hound, who belongs to my husband's boss. We offered to watch him for a week while she was away on business. I believe his real name is Maximus, however his owner's 3 year old daughter will inform you that his last name is "Pad" thanks to some cajoling from a Canadian-Mexican uncle. I shall not name names, Abe.

So my story begins where the last yoga tragedy left off. I ordered a new yoga video, "Just my Size Yoga," and it arrived after a lengthy trip in the UPS truck, which I was thankful for. It sat on my desk for a good couple of days, where it taunted and frightened me. I finally decided one afternoon to give it a whirl. After all the only thing we have to fear is fear and health, right?

Now, it is a well known fact that I am not a dog person by nature. I had an encounter with a german shephard when I was 2 years old that gave me a life long aversion to dogs. But Maxi Pad is a different story. For one- he is not the brightest crayon in the box. In fact, he is a few dimes short of a nickel if you ask me. Very sweet, very loving, very lacking in intelligence. I have never personally owned a dog, so I never thought about what could happen when you attempt yoga in the same room with one. Max is pretty calm, so I wasn't too worried. That was my first mistake.

Enter "Puppy." Puppy is our rambunctious and psycho cat. She gained her name when her kitty personality resembled that of a dog. She plays fetch, she sits at the door and waits for us, and anytime I am gone for a length of time (or even just a quick bathroom trip) she acts like she hasn't seen me in years. I really can't stand the cat, but I don't have the heart to get rid of her. Yet.

Back to the story. I decide to give the new yoga video a try. I opened the dvd, popped it in the player, and prepared myself for the end of the world. I was really gunshy after the last yoga experience. As the video started, she talked about the positives of yoga and health benefits, and yadda yadda yadda. I wasn't going to believe it for a second. I know that yoga instructors are liars. Flexible liars. She seamlessly moved into the warm up, and I tenaciously began to try the moves. Meanwhile, Maxi Pad is lying on the couch (which he had peed on earlier that afternoon. 3 different cushions) and Puppy has found a bone that does not belong to her. Maxi Pad, being a good sport, gave her a little growl, but really didn't care. Or didn't understand. Either way, he was too comfy to make a move. As I am stretching and beginning to feel optimistic about the new yoga video, Puppy decided to carry the bone, in her mouth as a good catdog should, and sit on the couch next to Max and show off that she was licking his rawhide goodie. The problem with cats is that they have no idea that a bone is heavy. So about halfway across the living room, she drops the bone on the floor. Which I stepped on. OUCH!!!

I (gently) tossed the bone onto the couch next to Max and keep stretching. We are learning how to transition without killing yourself onto your knees, and because it is "Fat Girl Yoga" I can actually do 99% of what I am supposed to! This is great! I got reabsorbed into my new calming sport, when all of a sudden I hear a thud. The bone dropped on the floor. Puppy and Maxi Pad, both highly interested now, jump onto the floor where they each attempt to get the bone first. Our living room is not that big, so before I know it, I do a step back, in lunge formation, and I hear "MMMMEOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" Whoops! Sorry Puppy! I pause the dvd, pick her up and love on her for a minute, then start the dvd back up while she goes into the kitchen to see Matt, my husband. He's a sucker for animals, and she knows it.

Now, animals are much like kids, especially when it comes to all things being fair and equal. I had loved on Puppy, and now Max assumed it was his turn. So as I am in an unflattering wide stance, he comes up under me and starts nuzzling my thighs. I am not comfortable with this sort of attention. I have read Leviticus, people, and no good can come from a an animal nuzzling the netherlands. Not even if his name is Maxi Pad.

So I tried to shoo him away, while determined to keep yoga-ing. I told him "go lay down," and "go get your bone." But nothing seemed to distract this dog. He kept nuzzling. I had to stop the dvd again, sit on the floor, and rub his belly before he tried to rub mine.

Finally, he laid contentedly on the floor, and I got back to the work out. It really wasn't too bad, folks! I stretched out on the floor, proud that I was over 75% done with the workout, and I hadn't passed out or pulled anything yet! Until Puppy raced back into the living room and decided that Max's floppy basset hound ears would make a great chew toy. You know how on old cartoons, anytime there's a fight, it's a ball of wind and dust and the occasional limb? That's pretty much what happened. They rolled on the floor, gnawing and yapping at each other. Now, not being well versed in the animal kingdom, I had no idea they were both playing and it was totally harmless. All I visualized was my husband's boss arriving to pick up a basset hound with only one long ear. So I picked up the cat, Max lunged for her, and knocked us all back onto the floor. Where I landed on a bone. No offense, but we all understand that bones in the butt are never comfortable.

I yelled for Matt to separate me from the animals, and just like Dr. Doolittle, he snapped his fingers and 2 angelic animals raced to his feet and on his lap and settled down. Sheesh. I turned off the TV, grabbed a bag of frozen peas for my rumpus, and finished the session with my usual diet coke and 4 advil.

For the record, I actually have a long standing history with Puppies and Maxi Pads. Although I have never owned a dog, I have had years of experience with maxi pads. One of the joys of motherhood was explaining the application of one while 3 toddlers (who were 3, 2, and 1 at the time) watched with wide eyes because they had picked the bathroom lock with a toy airplane and caught me. I told them it was a "Mommy Diaper" and the kids said "OK" and left. I never gave it a second thought. Till 4 years later.

I wish I could tell you I had the imagination to make this one up, but credit for what you are about to read and see must be given to our son, Tim.
One night, he was in the bathroom messing around when he was supposed to be asleep, and I heard him rattling paper. I yelled across the house "GO TO BED!!!"

"Ok, mom. In a minute!" If you have had the pleasure of meeting Tim, you know that the child is a thinker and a schemer. (maybe a little like his mom?) Anyhoo, I didn't believe him for a second.

I yelled again, "GO TO BED, TIMOTHY!"

He walked out of his room with his hands behind his back. THAT is never a good sign.

"Sorry, Mom, but Pumpkin Pie Puppy (his beloved stuffed animal) needed a diaper, so I just used yours."

A picture is worth a thousand words.

3 pictures equals BLACKMAIL.

Pictures of Pumpkin Pie Puppy and his Diaper

How I Burned 400 Calories Buying a Scale

Today was my official online weigh in day. It did not go well. I got on the scale this morning, my heart pounding, and wild with anticipation that I was going to magically drop 40 pounds in a week. What I got was the surprise of my life. I GAINED 2 POUNDS!!! Surely that wasn’t right! I had followed the plan to a T, and hadn’t cheated once! Something is amiss! Hold on, was my scale in same spot on the floor as the last time? Maybe not. So I scooted the scale over. Now I was only up one pound. I scooted it another 5 inches. Now I had lost 3. What the heck is going on?
I decided it was high time to purchase a new scale. Perhaps a digital one, so the verdict wouldn’t be open for interpretation. With my faith in the diet progress partially restored, I began the preparations to head to Wally-world. And preparation it takes.
First of all, the weather is currently at 0. That is before you tack on the wind chill. When you add (or subtract) that in, it is a whopping –15 below. It’s butt freezing cold. This means I have to bundle up. In pairs. 2 pair of gloves, 2 hats, 2 sweatshirts, 2 pairs of socks. And even though I had all the extra padding on, I decided at the last minute to throw on a bra. For good measure.
Next on the list of preparation, is the 98 Windstar van, whom I have not-so-affectionately christened Neve. Her full name is Neve R. Working, but I often refer to her by other names (which are unfitting for a preacher-in-training to repeat). Neve has a laundry list of problems that may arise at any given moment. Her most recent issue has been somewhat of an emotional journey. Neve has recently proclaimed her sexual orientation to us. She only goes straight. Something is wrong with the power steering, and it takes brute force to make her veer to the left. Or the right. The past week I had to ice my elbow from attempting to driving her. Of course, they were already sore from the yoga incident, which didn’t help matters at all.
I know this vehicle isn't particularly safe, but then again, neither is letting me stew around the house wondering how much I weigh. All bundled up, I went outside to warm her up. I attempted to open the driver’s side door, but it was frozen shut. Undaunted, I pulled and pulled until I was almost out of breath. She was stuck tighter than my thighs in a pair of size B pantyhose. Finally, out of sheer frustration, I slammed my body against the door to break the invisible barrier. Sometimes it’s handy to be overweight! The door popped open, and she started without a hitch.
I came back inside to throw on a little makeup. If I didn’t, I would see somebody I knew at the store and WISH I was wearing makeup. I ran a brush through my hair and put on a sock hat. Then another. My hair was static crazy, but the sock hats would hide it from the gazing eye of the public.
After waiting a few more minutes, I made a quick trip to the bathroom, kissed the hubby and kiddos goodbye, and hurried outside to begin my trek. Before actually driving anywhere, I had to put more power steering fluid in. Not taking a clue from the door, I assumed Neve would pop up her hood like usual, but the ice and freezing temperature made her too shy to reveal her motor. After attempting to pry and pull the hood open, I decided that my big butt could be used for more than material for blogging, and I jumped on the hood to smother Neve into submission.
However, there was ice on the hood, and I had on a slick jacket which covered my derriere. So as I sat down with gumption, there was an immediate loss of traction, and I slipped off the hood and landed on the brick street. My big butt thankfully broke the fall.
I eventually got the fluid in, and hurried back into the van. I cranked up the heat and headed out. 3 blocks later, I realized that I was still freezing. The heater was blowing cold, and there was nothing I could do. No matter! I kept on driving, shaking my head at the lunacy that is my life. The steering wheel was stiff, but not too bad yet, and I made the first 3 turns with relative ease.
I got to Walmart just in time. I found a parking spot, close to the front, and attempted to gently guide Neve into it. She didn’t like that spot apparently, and refused to turn. I turned the wheel harder. Still nothing. Finally, I used so much force that Popeye would have been proud. Neve groaned and grunted, but was finally in agreement to park where I wanted to. It was at that moment the oil light came on.
Irritated, freezing, and irritated, I headed into Wal-mart for some retail therapy. I was determined to warm up and be happy, regardless of the Neve’s poor attitude. Plus now, I had to buy some oil. I reached down to pull out my list. If I don’t have my list, I will forget half the things I needed to get, and the hubby gave me a few extras to get, “since you are going.”
Once in my pocket, I couldn’t find the list. I looked in the other pocket. Not there. I had on a hooded sweatshirt over my other sweatshirt, and it has a huge pocket. Not in there either. The list was at home on the computer desk. By this time, my tummy was feeling gurgly. But I knew I needed a scale, and that was top priority. So I decided to start with that and play the rest by ear.
Our Wal-mart had just undergone a facelift, and I didn’t know where some things were, but I knew where the scales should be- with the bathroom stuff. I hoofed it to the plumbing department, and searched for the holy grail…um…scale. It wasn’t there. So I looked in the exercise department. Still nothing. Boy, wearing my coat was a bad idea. I was getting hot! I took off my coat and gloves, and kept searching. Maybe it is with the small appliance stuff! That’s on the other side of the store. I pushed the cart over there, but still, my search was in vain. I was getting hotter by the second, and my tummy was having issues. Shew-eee! I pulled off one of the sweatshirts and a sock hat, and kept looking. I tracked down an employee who took me right back to the plumbing department where I had started. The scales were right there. UG!

By this time, my stomach was more than gurgly. It was calling a 5 alarm emergency. I should know better than to eat so much broccoli! Leaving the employee behind with the scales, I said, “OK, thanks” as I ran with my cart down the aisle, heading for the bathroom. I made it to the bathroom in the back of the store, which was conveniently closed for cleaning. That meant I had to hurry to the front of the store. This time I ran steering the cart with one hand, holding my backside with the other in the vain attempt of keeping things together till I was safely in the bathroom. On my way, I noticed a towering display of scales in the middle of the main aisle. I made it to the bathroom, but just barely. 5 minutes later, I was dripping buckets of sweat, and had to remove the sock hat that was hiding my static crazy hair. The sweatiness did little to tame my coif, and I looked like I had just finished touching one of those electromagnetic orbs. Meanwhile, I was soaked. I couldn’t tell if I was overheated because of the heat I had just produced, or because I was coming down with the flu.
I finally made it back to the plumbing department for a scale, cursing my plumbing the entire way, where I picked out something digital, cheap, and black. I assume that if black is slimming on me, I might weigh less on a black scale. I then began the arduous task of remembering everything else on the list that was at home. Paper towels, toilet paper, garbage bags, etc. Once I thought I had everything on the list, I headed out to the check out. I had just put everything on the conveyer belt when I remembered. OIL! I proceeded to put everything back into the cart, headed to the automotive section, and picked up 2 quarts and a funnel. The funnel dropped out of the cart, and as I bent over, I realized the broccoli disaster wasn’t over yet. Leaving the funnel on the floor, I headed to the front of the store, only to discover that now THAT bathroom was being cleaned. I raced to the back…AGAIN…and made it to the bathroom. I went back to auto, got my forgotten funnel, and remembered I was going to buy a measuring tape to measure myself. As if I wasn’t already miserable enough.
It was in the sewing department that I ran into a friend. She sweetly asked me how the diet was going. Me and my upright hair answered her, and we chatted for a minute or 2 while I tried to play it cool. I eventually made it to the check out, and back outside to needy Neve. I loaded up the groceries, and pulled out a roll of paper towels so I could check her oil the proper way.
I filled her with more power steering fluid, checked the oil, and low and behold, the oil was full and didn’t need refilling. I got back inside, muttering some not so nice things, started her up, and then gas light came on. Sigh. It was starting to feel ridiculous.
Now filled to the gaskets with gas, oil and power steering fluid, Neve and I made it home safely. I thought the adventure was over as I brought the groceries inside. I even smiled a little. At least I am getting good material for the blog, I thought to myself. Perking up now that I was home, I went out to get the last load. My hands were full, and I still had to shut the back of the van, so I put the paper towels in my teeth for a brief moment and slammed the hatch door closed. The door caught the corner of the paper towels, and because I had opened them earlier, 7 rolls went flying into the snow, under the van, and into the street. Sheesh.
I got inside after crawling on my belly in 15 below weather to find all the rolls, some of which were wet and ruined, and finally, it was all over. I had my new scale.
I pulled it out of the packaging, stripped down buck naked in the dining room and weighed myself.

I really wasn’t surprised to find out that I weigh “Error.”

The Yoga Incident

As I begin my weight loss journey, there are a few key elements to getting a diet plan in place. First of all, you need an actual diet. So I signed up for Weight Watchers online. I get 28 points a day. Check. Next, you need to get all your "diet" food in place so you won't graze the fridge and eat leftover icing because you are craving something sweet. 2 hours at the grocery store and $200 later? Check. Now, you need a support system. With the rousing success of the "Operation Shrink Charlie's Big Butt" on Facebook, I cry gleefully- CHECK!

Now, what is missing? I have a diet, food, support....oh, I guess I need some form of exercise. Um......this was going to take some serious thought.

As I began to explore all of my cardio options, I had many things to consider. Mainly that I am not in shape. At all. I'm not even a round shape anymore. I look like a lopsided blob of playdough. With big boobs. It's sad really, those gravity defying mounds of moosh that have lost all motivation to stand up for themselves. They keep me from jogging, for fear I will snap a strap and cause catastrophic damage to an innocent bystander.

So running and jogging are out. How about a great exercise video? Well, I still own an original copy of "Swearing" to the Oldies, on VHS, but it never really was as fun as Richard made it out to be. No, no, I need something nonstressful, something easy...something that won't leave me yelling at the TV, begging for mercy. And Billy Blanks, while fantastic to watch, would leave me immoble for days. This I knew from past experience. So it had to be something that was mild, calm, and not to extreme. The answer seemed easy. Yoga!

Thankfully, we have video on demand, which offers an array of exercise routines, including yoga. There was a great option that promised it was "perfect for the beginner." I excitedly watched the first few minutes as the skinny instructor promised many serene health benefits from yoga, and it seemed peaceful, cozy, and easy. So I took off my shoes, went back to the beginning, and dove right in.

It started with some easy stretching. "Swing your arm up and around your body!" No sweat! "Other side!" Easy as pie! "Now, bend down, touch your toes and breathe deeply."

Hmmm, this is a bit problematic. First of all, I can only touch my toes if I remove the girls from their harness and let them swing free. Touching toes is not a viable option. Then there's the issue of my tummy. You see, when I bend over, my "chubby tummy" compacts into my chest, which as I understand, houses my lungs, making a full breath a bit tricky. OK, well I can gloss over this one. I raise up a little like the hunchback of Notre Dame, and breathe. That's much better.

"Next, put your arms behind your back, lace your hands together with your fingers, bring your hands over to your left side and touch your elbows together behind your back."

OK. This is do-able. She's doing it and it looks really easy! So, with the vain imagination that I might secretly possess circus-like flexibility unbeknownst to me, I attempt to follow her smooth as silk instructions. I got my hands behind my back, laced the fingers together, and brought them to one side. Sort of. My arms didn't warm up enough, apparently. The room, however, was warming up quickly. I tried to at least bring them them over as far as I could. But fitting them around my plus size hips was tougher than I anticipated. Never the less, I was determined to at least touch the elbows. I gave them a good "ooomph" and there they were. One inch closer to each other than where they started from. Who knew they were so opposed to meeting one another? At this point, with my shoulders searing in pain, I paused the routine and rechecked the description. "Perfect for Beginners." The term "beginner" was quickly rising up for philosophical debate. But desperate for 30 minutes of exercise, I pressed play and pressed on.

"Now, we are going to do the downward dog. Lay on the floor propped up on one knee, bringing it under your chest as far as you can, keep your arms as far as possible on the floor, and lengthen your core by stretching your entire body as long as you can."

I paused the show and checked the information again. Seriously, this is for beginners? What do you go through in the advanced yoga routine? Do you have to work out on a 15th century torture rack?

Avoiding using my unsocial elbows and fire pulsing shoulders, I plopped on the floor as gently as one can without the assistance of arms. Then I got into a very painful and unflattering position, when I realized I had to unpause the video. Crap. The remote is 3 feet in front of me. But I worked really hard to get into my downtrodden dog, and I needed to get the remote without changing my position. Relying on my "Twister" skills, I tried to keep left foot on carpet, right foot in between boobs, left arm on floor (the whole 4 inches I could) and right hand on grey play button. By the time I got the show back on, I was in such an un-yoga position I had to pause it and reposition my self again. This time, I had the remote safely in my bra, where I could press the play button with my chin.

"OK, you are in downward dog! Now we are going to lift up the leg that is on the floor and hold it there until we feel it burning a little. Try to lift it up as high as you can."

This was an unfair situation, because the leg in question was already burning. As I raised it up as far as I could, I realized that I could still feel the pile of the Berber carpeting. I needed to get it higher. The skinny girl in the video had hers practically above her head!

So I pushed a little further. I didn't look to see how high I got, but it was off the floor. I think. And at that moment, the muscles between my thigh and my hip (right where you stop shaving on a good night) began to quiver and throb. CRAMP CRAMP CRAMP!!! The downward dog became the "down on the floor, panting and rolling like a dog" as I tried to find any position to relieve the cramp in a place I never knew I had muscles.

Laying on the floor, sweaty, panting and unable to move, I was forced to watch skinny finish her routine because I couldn't bend my angry elbows to reach the remote, now buried deep in the inner sanctum of my bosom. Finally, as the video was ending she gave her salute to the sun. I gave her a different kind of salute, but it was quick. The upward motion of my middle finger set my shoulder on fire again, and I had to cool it off by drinking a diet coke and 4 Advil.

I then ordered "Yoga: Just my Size" from Amazon, which promised a fair and equal opportunity to yoga regardless of size and shape, and am praying that my body recovers by the time it gets here. Needless to say, I didn't pay for rush shipping.