I don't have much life energy to pour great wit and much playful banter into a blog tonight. but we'll do a short recap. In four more night nights I'll be getting my Zumba fitness instructor certification. Me! My out of shape, huffin and puffin ass will be leading others in the health charge.
This holiday weekend started at 1:30pm when my boss was kind enough to let us all go home early for the weekend. So I picked up my daughter and took her to see Spy Kids 4D. (and the smell cards don't work, btw. And thank God, because who wants to smell stinky diaper and dog fart? Who the hell...?) We met up with some friends at the movie who came over to play after it was over. We were up ALL night playing. The next day was a day of shopping and errands, and again our friends came over to play. And again we partied all night long. On Sunday ...I honestly can't even remember Sunday I'm so tired. But I do know I was awake until well after 2 in the morning. Which brought me to today. And a 9:30am Zumba class.
Normally I take Zumba 3 times a week. Mon/Wed/Fri. But because of this Labor day weekend, my normal gym was closed on Friday AND Monday. Well that just wouldn't do. Not with this all day certification class coming up. I need all the practice I can get. My original plan was to do some sort of at home cardio over the weekend, but if history tells us anything it's that home + cardio + me = not happening. So this morning, more tired than I've been in a long time, but also motivated out of my mind, I rolled out of bed and into my car and drove to my local 24 Hour Fitness with a "try it free" pass in my hand and waited for Zumba to begin.
Here comes the bipolar part.
During class I was doing my best. As best as I could muster with my exhausted body and mind. I even over did it during one song. I was feeling wonderful when I noticed that it doesn't hurt as much to jump anymore. A few weeks ago, jumping up and down incorporated all sorts of unpleasant things and very quickly exhausted me. Well today it didn't, and I noticed. There was a lot of jumping in this song and I was doing it all. About 2 minutes later I stopped dead. I felt like I was going to faint. I realized that I had bitten off more than I could chew with this one. After a moment I regained composure and started dancing again. I shook it off and kept going. But fear set in. What if I can't make it through this certification class on Friday? Oh my God what was I thinking getting into this so quickly. I am so extremely out of shape. I wont even be able to lead an hour class for MONTHS. All I can probably muster for now is to lead a few songs under someone else's class. When will it get better? I shouldn't have signed up for this.
But then, once the class was over and I had made it through, my faith renewed. I will do this. Then something else. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling you, I know my body. But as I was sitting the car on the way home, I lifted my arms to grab the wheel and it felt like my arms were lighter than they had been an hour ago. I fit in my chair differently than I had on the way to class. Whoa! What? I was driving home and my face felt like it was glowing. Like it was radiating warmth and sunshine and it felt open and good, like air was passing through my pores and in general I felt like a golden pink color. What a wonderful thing this journey I am on is giving me. I can feel the journey happening all around me. Now maybe I'm just a little tired and over worked, because I don't think my words are making much sense right now. But I feel high as a kite. Sometimes right before class I feel intimidated and nervous, but I come out the other side feeling like I have just slayed a dragon.
So here I am, nervous and intimidated and afraid...and slaying dragons 3 times a week.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
How To Turn a Fail Into a Win
I promised you the good, the bad and the ugly. Well this would be one of those uglies. I've been a Zumba fiend the last couple of weeks. Devouring all the information and songs and classes I could. I placed an order for some Zumba wear with an instructor friend of mine last Friday and have been practically counting the minutes until it arrived.
Today was that day.
All I've been able to talk about lately are "my Zumba pants". I love Zumba pants. I think they're awesome. I love the fit and the colors and the fact that you can attach tassels to them. When I got the word that the pants had been delivered, I got in the car and rushed over to my friends house somewhere near 9pm. I grabbed the box of clothes, threw it in the car and made the 3 block trip home in about eleven seconds. I ran up the stairs, busted the box open like a kid on Christmas morning, took the pants out of the protective packaging and looked at them.
"Hmm". *insert quizzical head tilt* They look a little small. I had ordered the biggest size they make. XXL. Surely they have sent me the wrong pants. I check the tag. Nope. They are "correct". So I decide my eyes must be in crooked and I begin to step into them.
I think I figured out something was wrong when they stopped ascending my body somewhere around mid thigh. Holy shit. Can this be? These pants not only don't fit, but they don't fit by a long shot. How can this be possible? My beloved Zumba...has betrayed me?
I've noticed something online with the Zumba pants. They are constantly out of the bigger sizes. Whenever you find the really cool looking pants, you will always come to find that anything other than XS, S and M are all sold out. You know why? Because people that skinny don't work out. They don't need to. WHY on earth would they not make more of these bigger pants? And why wouldn't they be made to fit the girls such as myself who are in desperate need of some serious cardio exercise, and who don't want to show up looking like we're dressed to work out in a prison yard? I instantly wanted to write Zumba Corp a letter quoting Day-Day from Next Friday when he says "Fat b*tches need love too, Craig!"
Now here's the up side: I have decided to keep the pants. Both pairs. They are MONTHS (at best) away from fitting. But God as my witness, these *F-Bomb*ing pants will fit me. And I will rock them. No one will have ever looked cuter in them. I will wear the pants, they will not wear me.
Being the person that I am, I took pictures. My mom and daughter were in the room when the trying on happened, so as I walked out of the changing area with devastation on my face I solemnly grabbed my camera and asked my mother to take some pictures. At first I did not intend to show the pictures to anyone. They were for me to keep and to look back on when one day these pants were far too big on me. But, I remembered that some girls out there may not have the "hope is like herpes" (see earlier blog) thing going on and may need some real motivation and hand holding. So, Big Girls out there: You are not alone. But I will tell you this, you will soon have one less sister amongst you, because I am out of here. Big Girls, I will always have love for ya, but I can't be one of you anymore. And I'd rather you bask in the glow of healthy positive changes along side me, than have you eat my dust. I have made the first step of getting off the couch. I walked out the door and into a Zumba class and it is motivating me every day. *prepare yourself for a Jerry Maguire moment* So all I wanna know is, who's coming with me?
Today was that day.
All I've been able to talk about lately are "my Zumba pants". I love Zumba pants. I think they're awesome. I love the fit and the colors and the fact that you can attach tassels to them. When I got the word that the pants had been delivered, I got in the car and rushed over to my friends house somewhere near 9pm. I grabbed the box of clothes, threw it in the car and made the 3 block trip home in about eleven seconds. I ran up the stairs, busted the box open like a kid on Christmas morning, took the pants out of the protective packaging and looked at them.
"Hmm". *insert quizzical head tilt* They look a little small. I had ordered the biggest size they make. XXL. Surely they have sent me the wrong pants. I check the tag. Nope. They are "correct". So I decide my eyes must be in crooked and I begin to step into them.
I think I figured out something was wrong when they stopped ascending my body somewhere around mid thigh. Holy shit. Can this be? These pants not only don't fit, but they don't fit by a long shot. How can this be possible? My beloved Zumba...has betrayed me?
I've noticed something online with the Zumba pants. They are constantly out of the bigger sizes. Whenever you find the really cool looking pants, you will always come to find that anything other than XS, S and M are all sold out. You know why? Because people that skinny don't work out. They don't need to. WHY on earth would they not make more of these bigger pants? And why wouldn't they be made to fit the girls such as myself who are in desperate need of some serious cardio exercise, and who don't want to show up looking like we're dressed to work out in a prison yard? I instantly wanted to write Zumba Corp a letter quoting Day-Day from Next Friday when he says "Fat b*tches need love too, Craig!"
Now here's the up side: I have decided to keep the pants. Both pairs. They are MONTHS (at best) away from fitting. But God as my witness, these *F-Bomb*ing pants will fit me. And I will rock them. No one will have ever looked cuter in them. I will wear the pants, they will not wear me.
Being the person that I am, I took pictures. My mom and daughter were in the room when the trying on happened, so as I walked out of the changing area with devastation on my face I solemnly grabbed my camera and asked my mother to take some pictures. At first I did not intend to show the pictures to anyone. They were for me to keep and to look back on when one day these pants were far too big on me. But, I remembered that some girls out there may not have the "hope is like herpes" (see earlier blog) thing going on and may need some real motivation and hand holding. So, Big Girls out there: You are not alone. But I will tell you this, you will soon have one less sister amongst you, because I am out of here. Big Girls, I will always have love for ya, but I can't be one of you anymore. And I'd rather you bask in the glow of healthy positive changes along side me, than have you eat my dust. I have made the first step of getting off the couch. I walked out the door and into a Zumba class and it is motivating me every day. *prepare yourself for a Jerry Maguire moment* So all I wanna know is, who's coming with me?
 |
| I couldn't even get these all the way up my legs. |
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Am I on drugs? Because I'm sure acting like it.
It was only last weekend, and yet I cannot remember what I was doing or thinking, but something suddenly possessed me. I made an executive decision for myself. I deliberated all of 28 seconds, sat down at the computer, and executed my plan.
Zumba instructor. Wow. This blog just got a whole lot more interesting. (to me anyway)
Now it's been what, six months? Six months since I attended a Zumba class. And I'll tell you honestly that's the last exercise that I had done. At least until this Monday. (But were skipping ahead) I had what can only be described as a Flip Wilson "the devil made me do it" moment. But I decided that I was going to become a Zumba instructor. ~Yes. You read it right.~
I have one friend who is currently a Zumba instructor who happened to be online at the time I made this decision. As I was filling out blanks in the "I'm fat, overweight, out of shape and wanna be a Zumba instructor" enrollment sheet, she was answering questions I had.
Click
Pay
Send
Done
As of September 9th, for better or for worse, I will be a certified Zumba instructor. **eek** Now, I may be smokin' crack, but I'm not crazy. I know that I may very well die of exhaustion if I jump cold turkey into this. So the day after this decision was made, I started going to Zumba classes again. And so I shall continue to do three times a week until I am certified. I have gone Monday, Wednesday and Friday of this week. And I'm dying a little less every time. Still dying, just a little less. I will admit that my energy has been a tad up this week from last week. My appetite, surprisingly, is down! Every time I actually make it all the way through a class, I feel better and better about my decision. I ordered some Zumba pants, which I am DYING to get in the mail and try on, and I already have plans on how to affix my Zumba themed coif. This is honestly the last thing I would have ever pictured myself doing.
Zumba instructor. Wow. This blog just got a whole lot more interesting. (to me anyway)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
My Date With "MiMi"
Alright now. Listen closely, because I'm only going to tell this story once...
So last night I went on a date. My first date since my last relationship, which ended little over a year ago. Which had been my first relationship since the untimely death of my marriage. Needless to say, I don't date much. I have many reasons, I suppose. I'm a single mother. I work 40 hours a week. My child is still very young and in need of my attention and affection. I'm afraid to get hurt again. I don't have a wide enough social circle to meet potential mates more often than once every 2 years. Bla bla bla yadda yadda yadda...take your pick. I have tried a few dating sites. I mostly started just to see. I was curious to see what kind of men were on the market. Over the last few years I have visited eHarmony, Match.com, Plenty of Fish and OKcupid. And what I have found is that most of the men on the market, are still hanging in the window for a reason.
I've been contacted by numerous men. Most emails I received mainly consisted of one sentence, or sometimes one word and usually had something to do with describing my butt. "Sup?" "DAMN! You got ass." "You remind me of a Mos Def song. 'Ass so fat you can see it from the front'.When you gonna let me hit dat, ma?" And that would be the entire body of the email. What on earth kind of response these men expected, I couldn't tell you. On one occasion I received what seemed to be the first chapter of a book. The email took me 15 minutes to read through. A few times I got asked out, but I always said 'no'. Like I said, I was just there to look and get a feel. That is, until this week.
I call my date "Mimi". Why? Say that name over and over and over again and you will get the gist of his conversation. The date started out promising enough. We chatted online a few times and seemed to have a lot in common and he had a great sense of humor. He asked me out to dinner. Which would imply that there would be dinner, right? Not necessarily, as you will come to find out.
We met in the parking lot, and before we had crossed the street into the restaurant he had already dropped an "f bomb". I thought "okay, he's nervous. It's understandable." We walk inside and he takes me through the restaurant and to the back patio. Before arriving at our date night, he knew that I was very inexperienced with the world of beer, so he offered to teach me about it. The truth is, I really can't stand beer, but I thought "you know what? He wants to show off his knowledge on a subject. This is something I have never done before. I'll give it a shot."
We seat ourselves outside and he orders both of us some beers. Then he orders an appetizer. Pretzels with cheese and mustard for dipping. Little did I know that this would be the only thing we would eat this evening. There never was an entree. Just beer...and pretzels. So our beers show up and I have to say, mine wasn't that bad. It was actually pretty good. As I sip, he starts to talk. About 4 minutes into his chatter, he lets out a burp mid-sentence. He never stops to excuse himself. He just keeps on talking. (Oooooookaaaaay) 25 minutes later, he is still talking. I'm nibbling on pretzels wondering when we're going to order dinner.
He's in the Navy. So needless to say, he's spent some time over seas. I know aaaaaaaaall about it. He went on and on about how he's "the man". He told me about how he once owned a bar in Tahiti, how on the island everyone would come to him for anything they needed because he had connections. While on ship he was the man who everyone came to for the most in demand of items. American cigarettes, American candy bars, movies, porn...you name it. (Did he seriously just tell his date that he was a porn distributor? Yes he did!) He went into great detail about his rule of lending out porn on the ship. "If it comes back sticky, you're done. You're cut off. No more for you. Just keep it. Ha ha ha, you know what I mean?" (Ummmmm...) *que a nervous laugh and a giant swig of my tasting-better-every-minute beer*
During the next half hour he downs another beer and lets out another half dozen belches. Still never once stopping to say "excuse me". I'm sorry. That's not only rude, but it's disgusting. Talk of sticky lender porn on a first date, I can almost handle. But not excusing yourself after a burp, you're crossing the line, buddy.
He casually mentions the pretzel appetizer and asks if I like it. I say yes, it is very good. He then remarks "Yeah, they've got food inside, but it's really weird." as he scrunches his face. A few things come into my head now. I realize that not only are we NOT ordering anything other than this appetizer, but I think to myself "Why on earth would you ask me to dinner at a place which serves food that you have no intention of eating?" I also notice that we have now been here an hour and a half, and I've spoken about 15 minutes total.
The best...well I wouldn't call it that. How about, the most interesting and perhaps humorous (to anyone not actually on this date) part of this story comes about 45 minutes later. We're...as you were...he is still talking as we go for a walk. As we come to rest on a picnic bench and he continues to regale me with stories of how awesome he is, how he once almost smacked his best friends wife for being a bitch (what the shit?), of what kind of dates he'd like to take me on in the future (and he's serious!!) it happens. I hear a strange noise. At the same time I notice that the bench we're sitting on vibrated somewhat. Oh my God. This man just farted. He farted!! He farted and yet the band played on. He didn't stop for an instant. Suddenly I could hear the lyrics to a Matthew Wilder song. "Aint nothing gonna break my stride. Nobody's gonna slow me down. Oh no. I got to keep on (TALKING)!!!"
Thinking back on it now, I wonder if I kept my poker face. Honestly I was too in shock once I realized what had just happened to notice whether or not I kept my composure. And even if I hadn't, I don't think it would have mattered because this fool wasn't even looking at me. As far as he was concerned he was on an awesome date with himself. He started to tell me about an awful date he had once gone on in which the girl started talking about marriage and kids and how she could see these things happening with him. And in the same breath, starts discussing "our" future together. He is telling me all about the things we're gonna do together and the dates he's gonna take me on. The phrase "Not if you were the last man on earth" came to mind more than once. What's really strange is the fact that this was not the first date I had been on since becoming single in which my date talked incessantly. The first guy even caught himself on a few occasions and would jokingly refer to himself as "Hemingway". On that particular date I don't think I said more than "It's nice to finally meet you" and "Well thank you for the lovely evening." But that is another story for another time...
So last night I went on a date. My first date since my last relationship, which ended little over a year ago. Which had been my first relationship since the untimely death of my marriage. Needless to say, I don't date much. I have many reasons, I suppose. I'm a single mother. I work 40 hours a week. My child is still very young and in need of my attention and affection. I'm afraid to get hurt again. I don't have a wide enough social circle to meet potential mates more often than once every 2 years. Bla bla bla yadda yadda yadda...take your pick. I have tried a few dating sites. I mostly started just to see. I was curious to see what kind of men were on the market. Over the last few years I have visited eHarmony, Match.com, Plenty of Fish and OKcupid. And what I have found is that most of the men on the market, are still hanging in the window for a reason.
I've been contacted by numerous men. Most emails I received mainly consisted of one sentence, or sometimes one word and usually had something to do with describing my butt. "Sup?" "DAMN! You got ass." "You remind me of a Mos Def song. 'Ass so fat you can see it from the front'.When you gonna let me hit dat, ma?" And that would be the entire body of the email. What on earth kind of response these men expected, I couldn't tell you. On one occasion I received what seemed to be the first chapter of a book. The email took me 15 minutes to read through. A few times I got asked out, but I always said 'no'. Like I said, I was just there to look and get a feel. That is, until this week.
I call my date "Mimi". Why? Say that name over and over and over again and you will get the gist of his conversation. The date started out promising enough. We chatted online a few times and seemed to have a lot in common and he had a great sense of humor. He asked me out to dinner. Which would imply that there would be dinner, right? Not necessarily, as you will come to find out.
We met in the parking lot, and before we had crossed the street into the restaurant he had already dropped an "f bomb". I thought "okay, he's nervous. It's understandable." We walk inside and he takes me through the restaurant and to the back patio. Before arriving at our date night, he knew that I was very inexperienced with the world of beer, so he offered to teach me about it. The truth is, I really can't stand beer, but I thought "you know what? He wants to show off his knowledge on a subject. This is something I have never done before. I'll give it a shot."
We seat ourselves outside and he orders both of us some beers. Then he orders an appetizer. Pretzels with cheese and mustard for dipping. Little did I know that this would be the only thing we would eat this evening. There never was an entree. Just beer...and pretzels. So our beers show up and I have to say, mine wasn't that bad. It was actually pretty good. As I sip, he starts to talk. About 4 minutes into his chatter, he lets out a burp mid-sentence. He never stops to excuse himself. He just keeps on talking. (Oooooookaaaaay) 25 minutes later, he is still talking. I'm nibbling on pretzels wondering when we're going to order dinner.
He's in the Navy. So needless to say, he's spent some time over seas. I know aaaaaaaaall about it. He went on and on about how he's "the man". He told me about how he once owned a bar in Tahiti, how on the island everyone would come to him for anything they needed because he had connections. While on ship he was the man who everyone came to for the most in demand of items. American cigarettes, American candy bars, movies, porn...you name it. (Did he seriously just tell his date that he was a porn distributor? Yes he did!) He went into great detail about his rule of lending out porn on the ship. "If it comes back sticky, you're done. You're cut off. No more for you. Just keep it. Ha ha ha, you know what I mean?" (Ummmmm...) *que a nervous laugh and a giant swig of my tasting-better-every-minute beer*
During the next half hour he downs another beer and lets out another half dozen belches. Still never once stopping to say "excuse me". I'm sorry. That's not only rude, but it's disgusting. Talk of sticky lender porn on a first date, I can almost handle. But not excusing yourself after a burp, you're crossing the line, buddy.
He casually mentions the pretzel appetizer and asks if I like it. I say yes, it is very good. He then remarks "Yeah, they've got food inside, but it's really weird." as he scrunches his face. A few things come into my head now. I realize that not only are we NOT ordering anything other than this appetizer, but I think to myself "Why on earth would you ask me to dinner at a place which serves food that you have no intention of eating?" I also notice that we have now been here an hour and a half, and I've spoken about 15 minutes total.
The best...well I wouldn't call it that. How about, the most interesting and perhaps humorous (to anyone not actually on this date) part of this story comes about 45 minutes later. We're...as you were...he is still talking as we go for a walk. As we come to rest on a picnic bench and he continues to regale me with stories of how awesome he is, how he once almost smacked his best friends wife for being a bitch (what the shit?), of what kind of dates he'd like to take me on in the future (and he's serious!!) it happens. I hear a strange noise. At the same time I notice that the bench we're sitting on vibrated somewhat. Oh my God. This man just farted. He farted!! He farted and yet the band played on. He didn't stop for an instant. Suddenly I could hear the lyrics to a Matthew Wilder song. "Aint nothing gonna break my stride. Nobody's gonna slow me down. Oh no. I got to keep on (TALKING)!!!"
Thinking back on it now, I wonder if I kept my poker face. Honestly I was too in shock once I realized what had just happened to notice whether or not I kept my composure. And even if I hadn't, I don't think it would have mattered because this fool wasn't even looking at me. As far as he was concerned he was on an awesome date with himself. He started to tell me about an awful date he had once gone on in which the girl started talking about marriage and kids and how she could see these things happening with him. And in the same breath, starts discussing "our" future together. He is telling me all about the things we're gonna do together and the dates he's gonna take me on. The phrase "Not if you were the last man on earth" came to mind more than once. What's really strange is the fact that this was not the first date I had been on since becoming single in which my date talked incessantly. The first guy even caught himself on a few occasions and would jokingly refer to himself as "Hemingway". On that particular date I don't think I said more than "It's nice to finally meet you" and "Well thank you for the lovely evening." But that is another story for another time...
 |
| Some dates can leave a bad taste in your mouth |
Monday, May 2, 2011
#facepalm
For the love of cheese. I am so effing frustrated with myself. I cannot stay focused on the fitness goals I want to attain. I want them. I need them. So why can't I STAY FOCUSED?! I am extremely pissed at myself. I could kick a chair, only I'm too fat and lazy...and I've got a chicken wing in my hand. ARRRRG! I can't sleep most nights. My mind is all over the place. My thoughts range from diet and exercise to dating to loneliness to wardrobe to my job to child support to custody...
I feel like I want to cry only I'm too sidetracked to remember to do it. I've been thinking lately of joining up with a gym. (here we go!) I was thinking of Chuze. They're pretty inexpensive and your membership can include free tanning. Wuuut? Not that I go to tanning booths all that often. But, I can see where if you had an event in the middle of winter to look nice for, it'd be a nice option. Not that I have ANYTHING to go to!!! That's another thing that has been bothering me a lot. And it's not the first time you guys have heard me talk about it. I'm lonely. Lonely. Lonely. The other day it was making me so sad I literally had a pain in my chest for most of the day. It's an awful feeling. Because not only am I feeling bad for myself, but then I start thinking of what a terrible mother I am for wanting something more for myself than my perfectly healthy child. I suffered a major heartache last year that I still have not recovered from. It still keeps me awake some nights wondering wtf happened and what was the other persons point of lying to me? I don't get it and I wish I did. I can't stand not having closure. I'm sure most of you have felt this frustration at some point or another.
My goals are slipping away from me and I am struggling with myself everyday to hold on to them. This week my mantra is Get it together. Get it together. For G*d's sake GET IT TOGETHER!!!!!!
I feel like I want to cry only I'm too sidetracked to remember to do it. I've been thinking lately of joining up with a gym. (here we go!) I was thinking of Chuze. They're pretty inexpensive and your membership can include free tanning. Wuuut? Not that I go to tanning booths all that often. But, I can see where if you had an event in the middle of winter to look nice for, it'd be a nice option. Not that I have ANYTHING to go to!!! That's another thing that has been bothering me a lot. And it's not the first time you guys have heard me talk about it. I'm lonely. Lonely. Lonely. The other day it was making me so sad I literally had a pain in my chest for most of the day. It's an awful feeling. Because not only am I feeling bad for myself, but then I start thinking of what a terrible mother I am for wanting something more for myself than my perfectly healthy child. I suffered a major heartache last year that I still have not recovered from. It still keeps me awake some nights wondering wtf happened and what was the other persons point of lying to me? I don't get it and I wish I did. I can't stand not having closure. I'm sure most of you have felt this frustration at some point or another.
My goals are slipping away from me and I am struggling with myself everyday to hold on to them. This week my mantra is Get it together. Get it together. For G*d's sake GET IT TOGETHER!!!!!!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Long Time No Blog
Sorry!! I think about you every day, really I do. I just didn’t have time to organize my thoughts. I still don’t really have anything organized. Just gonna put my fingers to the keys and see what comes out.
So, the thing I said I couldn’t write about…I still can’t write about out of respect of privacy for the other party involved. One day soon, I’ll be able to get it out, but for now I’m just crossing my fingers. But trust me, I had a good reason to stop my diet and stop writing. But those reasons are gone now and I’ve just been plain lazy.
So, starting fresh. Last week I signed up with Weight Watchers. *insert victory music* Trying to be budget conscious I decided to go with the online program as opposed to the one where you can attend meetings. It’s about $30 a month cheaper this way. (win!) Although this may prove to be a mistake because I have no idea what the hell I am doing and W.W. has one hell of a website to navigate. Although I joined last week, I didn’t start following the program until yesterday. To make it easy on myself in the beginning I am going to just buy the Smart Ones meals that have the WW pointsplus numbers written on them. Taa daa. Easy enough for now. At least to get started with.
Upon signing up, I tipped the scales at 232 pounds. There it is. Out there for the world to see. But it doesn’t matter, because by the time you read this I will already be a little skinnier. So there.
I’m sorry to leave you with such a stunted update, but I’m hungry enough to eat my own face right now so I better go get a snack.
See you around soon.
~Future Skinny Bitch~
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Did a double take when I was washing my face tonight. Looked in the mirror and almost didn't recognize myself. It's been 2 days of Weight Watchers and I noticed my face a few ounces thinner. LOL!! I'm being serious. I have a great eye for kooky details like that. (not so much when it comes to spotting type-o's though) I notice every time a male co-worker gets a hair cut or takes his sideburns up a 1/4 inch. So I noticed my face a bit skinnier tonight. My face is always the first thing to show weight loss. So this is a minor win for tonight. It's the little things that can keep you going. My first BIG win will be when someone (who doesn't read this) says to me "Have you lost weight?" UH! I'll be dancing on the ceiling when that happens.
The next two days are going to be stressed packed for me. My daughters 4th birthday party is this Saturday and I am terrified that I wont get everything done in time. Decorations, food, snacks, dessert table, goodie bags, activities, music, balloons....good Lord, have mercy and give me swift feet, steady hands and nerves of steel.
The next two days are going to be stressed packed for me. My daughters 4th birthday party is this Saturday and I am terrified that I wont get everything done in time. Decorations, food, snacks, dessert table, goodie bags, activities, music, balloons....good Lord, have mercy and give me swift feet, steady hands and nerves of steel.
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