Shy Nudists?

So here I sit, looking at clothing websites and actually going into real stores doing my best to find suitable clothes for the new job and a fun cocktail/party dress for an upcoming silly event with friends in a few weeks.

And I’m not having any luck at all which leads to me being extremely frustrated.  My main problem isn’t so much that I’m horribly overweight (and I completely accept that, even though I would still like to shed 10-15 pounds).  My issue with clothes comes from the simple fact that my top half is two whole sizes bigger than my bottom half.

I’m sure you can imagine my grief when I absolutely fall in love with an adorable little dress only to try one size on and have the zipper promptly stop half way up my back.  Normally this is what happens next:

  • Massive huge sigh
  • Try next size up
  • Still won’t zip completely, although this is a little better
  • Try next size up
  • Success!  The dress zips completely!
  • Oh, but look…the bottom half looks like a circus tent.

I know the most simple way to deal with this is to buy the size that fits the biggest half of me and have it tailored down to fit the rest of me, but I get so tired of that.  Just once I would like to be able to go into a store, see something I like, and being able to buy and wear it without issue.

Here’s the next dilemma: my working out won’t do a thing to fix this.  If anything, it’s going to make this issue worse.  I’ve accepted another fact in my life: I inherited some rather voluminous upper bits.  They only got bigger after I had two kids, and no matter how much my weight waxes and wanes, they stay massive.  Now I’m sure a portion of you reading this are all, “woo, boobs,” but I’m here to tell you boobs aren’t all fun and games.  I have serious issues trying to find a bra size that actually fits and doesn’t resemble something an 86-year-old great-grandmother would wear.  God forbid I find something in a festive color or pattern.  I’ve completely given up hope on that.  Other than bra issues, I’m pretty much out of luck when it comes to button-up shirts, unless, again, I opt for something much larger than my actual size and have it tailored down.


I’d move to a nudist colony if I wasn’t so shy.


the hallowed doors of mother’s advice

As it turns out, this whole “joining the gym” thing is harder than I thought it would be.  Two reasons: a) my social anxiety of people watching me keeps going nuts on me whenever I drive into the parking lot and see more than three cars parked there.  My first thought is usually, “OHGODTHEY’REGOINGTOLOOKATMEANDTHINKI’MAHIDEOUSSLOB!” (and yes, I think it all it one long continuous word), even though I know that the people within the hallowed gym doors are probably just as anxious as I am, they’re just better at forcing themselves through it.  Although, they could be complete fitness snobs and turn their noses up at my flab as soon as I work up the nerve to go inside.  I just really don’t like people looking at me, which is going to make actually working out in said gym ungodly difficult.  Something I’m definitely not looking forward to, but willing to work through.  In any case, reason b) money issues keep coming up since I made the gymly decision.  My cell phone was dunked into a glass of water by the Elder Son and for a while there, I was afraid I was going to have to fork out oodles of money to get a new phone a week and a half before I’m eligible for an upgrade.  (Luckily, that’s fixed itself to a point where the phone is usable, albeit not perfect.)  Then just today my computer decided to contract some horrible computer disease, which meant buying a back-up drive (which, to be fair, I should have already have; I’m a bad self-proclaimed nerd for NOT having one).  Had I joined the gym today like I had planned, I probably wouldn’t have had the extra money in the budget to afford the back-up thingie, and I’d be up the proverbial creek.  So, for once, I’d say my social anxiety helped me out.

However, I do still plan on joining, just as soon as I work up the courage.

Meanwhile, I’m doing my best to eat consciously since I won’t have the exercise that went along with the animal hospital job.  Not a diet, per say, because I don’t believe in those ridiculous fad diets, but smaller portions of healthier stuff; whole grains, fresh fruits and veggies, lean meats, etc.  I keep thinking maybe I should actually give myself some kind of restrictions, but then I hear my (perpetually skinny) mother’s voice in my head: “You won’t lose weight by not eating something!  The only way to lose weight is to eat less and move more!”  And so, like any good daughter who was brainwashed at an early age, I listen to my mother’s advice.

Today’s weigh-in: 149.6

Egads and Jubilations!

Get back on the horse, try, try again, practice makes perfect…

Whatever.  I’m going to be completely honest with myself and the handful of you who read this: I am absolutely horrible at keeping up a blog, as evidenced with this very blog you’re reading RIGHT NOW!  However, I am back, after lots of poking and prodding by the internet’s own AAlgar, I have decided to start anew!  Huzzah and hoorah and other jubilations!

The weight-loss thing was originally spurred on by wanting to be in shape for Emerald City Comic-con, and after that, I had my alma mater’s spring homecoming for a goal (granted, I didn’t have great results by the time either of those events rolled around in, respectively March and April).  So now that brings us to my current situation: I’m standing with no end date in sight, stuck at a plateau weight, holding a pair of toning shoes and leaving a job that had me walking miles a day.

The homecoming event had an odd effect on my mind.  I spent a good chunk of the weekend with an old friend who lost about 60 pounds since I had last seen her.  When asked what she did, her response was “I got happy,” which leads me to wonder how much effect mental health has on a person’s weight.  Goodness knows, I’m much happier now than I was eighteen months ago, but if that’s the case, and being deliriously happy can make you drop dozens of pounds, why isn’t that the case with me?  (At this point, I’m pretty much just whining that other people have it easy, and that’s just not fair.)

But, as I do, the sense of competition is the carrot dangling in front of my face, so to speak, and I’m taking the next weight-loss step.  Yes, that’s right, I plan on joining a gym.

Egads, this terrifies me.  Not so much the actual working out itself, I’m perfectly fine with that.  Stick me on a treadmill or a stationary bike and I’m good to go for hours, or as long as my mp3 player holds out.  But the people that will be in the same room with me and able to see me be all gross and sweaty.  That’s what I’m fretting about the most.  I suppose only time will tell how I handle that hurdle.

I plan on starting weigh-ins again soon, so you kind people can badger me about not wasting my money with the gym membership, and AAl, you can keep up the non-writing guilt.  I appreciate it, despite the guff I return.

The Antidote to Hoebagness

The lack of this week’s updates hasn’t been solely due to my laziness when it comes to writing.  I’ve been finding myself falling into the ole depression slump lately – something I definitely do not need to revisit.  Fighting it off is ridiculously hard this time around, though, mainly thanks to my continued lack of a job.  And it’s not for lack of trying that I’m still unemployed; there just aren’t many jobs in this tiny miserable little town I’m living in, and my savings account has been depleted, so I can’t relocate to a place where jobs are more readily available.  At this point, my only income is from the occasional online survey.  It’s a sad, vicious jobless circle.

On the plus side, being jobless gives me lots of time to do the things I enjoy like cooking and baking and working on ye olde novel.  So, that’s something, right?  (And yes, I’m actually just trying to convince myself at this point.  I’m pretty accepting of the fact that being unemployed is not, in fact, fun, despite the misleading “funemployment” hashtag.)

But moaning about my employment troubles isn’t really the point of this blog.  It’s moaning about the fact that I’m all gross and flabby!  Which, I am.  Flabby, that is, not really moaning about it.

I realized after going out this past weekend how much heavier I am than I used to be based on other people’s interactions with me.  Granted, I’ve never been one to have hoards of the men folk swooning at my feet, but in the past, I’ve attracted the attention of a fellow or two.  Not enough to ever have been outright hit on, or even had a drink bought for me  by some random dude (which, I’m kind of thankful for, really – I have no idea what the proper etiquette is for some stranger buying me a drink), but I at least caught an eye or two in my prime.  Not so much this past weekend.  Or maybe I did catch an eye, but the men folk are just being more discreet.  [I feel I should add a disclaimer that I’m certainly not out trolling for men, I’m just using their reaction to me as a scale.]  So, an added goal to my list is to lose enough weight to warrant attention from a stranger, which I believe I will test in March at Emerald City Comic-con.  Because comic nerds totally have the same reaction to girls as everyone else, right?

After you’ve read the previous paragraph that makes me sound like a massive hoebag, let me tell you what I made for dinner last night!  Because food is the antidote to hoebagness, if you didn’t already know that.  Anyway.  Spaghetti squash.  I would totally have its babies if I were a squash.  It is my favorite of the squashes.  I cooked up a giant batch of that last night along with grilled porkchops and asparagus in a raspberry-cayenne sauce (which doesn’t sound very good, but the whole sweet-spicy thing really works).  Also made cookies for the boys and managed to avoid eating any of them.  (You can send your congratulatory high-fives to me via twitter for that one, y’all.)

Today’s weigh-in: 154.6

Wine is totally low-fat!

Well here we are, two weeks into the whole anti-flab thing and I’m pretty much the same as I have been.  Mainly because I’m giving myself the weekends off and slacking on both eating better and working out.  Something I need to work on, obviously.

This past weekend was spent in New Orleans for a friend’s mustache themed birthday party and that meant lots of rum, cup cakes, and horribly fattening drunk food from St. Charles Tavern, which, holy geez, amazing food, especially at almost 3 in the morning.  It’s one of my regular eating places when I’m down in the NOLA.

I swear, I’m having a love affair with that city.  (Sentimental Laura warning!)  One of my fourteen thousand dreams I have is to open a restaurant in the French Quarter and use all the recipes I inherited from my stereotypically Cajun family.  Plus lots of baked goods, of course.  Cooking food for people is one of my favorite things to do.  There’s just something about making something from scratch and having it nourish and sustain people that makes me happier than most anything.  So, how great would that be?  Cooking for a living in a place that I adore.  (Cue wistful sighs here…)

Anyhow, this past weekend, as fun as it was, undid some of the good I’d been doing.  So, this week I’ll be working extra hard.  I totally upped my crunches by 25%.  (I don’t actually know if I did or not, but I did more than I normally do, and that sentence [when I had it crafted in my head] sounded very personal trainer-y, so that’s what I’m going with.)  I’m sure I’ll be paying for it tomorrow.

Meanwhile, tonight, I’m going to drink my wine.  That’s low-fat, right?

Today’s weigh-in: 156.8

Annoyances and King Cake

I obviously just plain suck as an every day blogger, but really, how much can one say about, “hey, look!  I moved more than I normally do!”  So, I am hereby officially cutting back to not-every-day.  Schedules are for chumps!  (Well, chumps and people more organized than I.)

Yesterday was an insane day full of annoyances.  Mostly caused by my former mother-in-law, but I’m not going into all that on here, well, other than to say, “uggggghhhhhhhhh.”  But all the annoyances resulted in getting my kids back after five blissful, quiet days.  That makes me an awful mother, doesn’t it?  That I enjoy the days when they’re not here?  Don’t get me wrong, I miss them and all, but holy sweet stuff on a stick, not having to worry about them beating each other or breaking stuff or goodness knows what else is nice.  All I have to worry about when they’re gone is the occasional cat barf.  Another bonus (and bringing things back around to the whole healthy/work-out/weight-loss crap) to being kidless, no one climbing on your back when you’re trying to yoga it up.  Or down.  However one yogas it.

By some freak fluke of nature, yesterday’s weigh-in was 153.6.  And then I ate some of my homemade king cake – which wouldn’t be all that bad for you, if it didn’t have the glaze frosting.  No, really!  There’s only a half a cup of sugar in the cake itself, and that, divided into however many servings, is…not…a lot….  (math is hard.)  Not something I would recommend the amateur baker to attempt, by the way.  The process is long and somewhat complicated.  And it involves yeast, which dazes me.  That shit grows y’all.

I’d be so much better at a food blog than I am at this thing.

Today’s weigh-in (post yesterday’s king cake): 155.2


Time for Naked Lady Talk

Let me start of by apologizing for my severe slacking in the writing department yesterday.  I was busy applying for a jobs and cross-stitching an octopus, and blogging just completely slipped my mind.  Working out, however, did not; I managed to get in a good hour or so of aerobic-type dance stuff (I always feel so silly when working out with the dance dvd, but whatever works).  Yesterday’s weigh-in was 156.8, which means I was stagnant over the weekend, but hey, at least I didn’t gain anything, right?

Today’s work out plans are lower body/core, so we’ll see how that goes.  I read an article (and of course, now I can’t remember where I found the article – pretty sure one of my gazillion facebook friends linked to it, and I read it from there) that said if you’re trying to shrink your belly size, crunches are bad, as they’ll develop muscle under the fat layer, and then you’re pretty much screwed as to getting rid of that fat that’s between muscle and skin.  I seem to remember reading something similar when looking up post-pregnancy weight-loss tips, so it might have some credibility to it.

Speaking of post-pregnancy weight-loss tips, I found a website years ago ( VERY nsfw, if you’re about to click that link) that helped me feel much better about myself both while pregnant and after.  It started up in 2007 and is still going strong, with mothers sending in entries and pictures of their post-pregnancy bodies.  (And here’s where I get sappy…)  The site really helped me when I was being told every other day how fat I was by the evil ex.  Seeing the hundreds of other women who were brave enough to send in their stories and photos seriously helped my mental state at the time.  I can’t tell you how many times I typed up a heart-breaking entry about my flab, my kids, and my abusive husband only to delete it minutes later.  Seriously, (not that any of them will ever read this) kudos to those ladies with the proverbial balls to do that.  I dread the thought of people I know even seeing my stomach, much less the entirety of me naked, which, let me tell you, despite the self-confidence I’ve regained in the past year, is definitely not a pretty sight.

Anyway, enough naked lady talk….

Today’s weigh-in: 155 (woo!)