Just a litte update . . .

I *did* go shopping this week, but not on Wednesday like I thought and I didn't accomplish much. I did, however, get a few new pairs of jeans and a new winter coat. Shopping for jeans is as tough as shopping for bathing suits or bras. Blech.

But I did find success in the BKE "Wendy" jean (higher rise, easy fit, so there's room through my knees.)
The Silver "Suki" jeans (don't stretch as much, but they fit comfortably around the upper thighs.)

And the Torrid jeans (cut high in the back to cover my ample booty and lower in the front so I still get that low-rise feel.)

I also needed (and found!) a good winter coat--something that was at once stylish, cut longer so it comes over my booty a bit, slimming, and that was wide enough to fit easily over my hips so I didn't feel like it was skirting up when I walked (Calvin Klein jeans jacket on sale at Macy's.)

Whew!

Anyway, I've been watching this Yoplait commercial for a few months but I always think it's way funny. Thought I'd share.




I love how she's looking at the cakes, even though she knows she shouldn't (don't I do that EVERY time, lol?) and how she tells the Bear Sheriff off. Guess it doesn't take much to make me smile, but I like it. I haven't have the nerve to try these "sweet treat" yogurts--have you?

Food makes me happy?

I...love...food. I am an emotional eater, and the emotional roller coaster ride I have been on for the last several months has been intense....so my eating has been intense. And as Ali so beautifully stated, I also..."am getting fatter".

I wonder if it is a bad thing that the gals at the Wendy's drive thru know me, and we talk as if we are life long friends. I wonder if it is strange that Ginger, who works at Steak burger where they have the BEST twist cones ever, will be receiving a Christmas gift from me because she is such a sweetie. Huh...I don't think that is normal. I wonder if that is a sign that I frequent those types of places WAY too much? Ya think? My two year old knows each fast food joint and will ask for whatever I usually get him as we drive by. "Taco Mama?" (Taco Bell) "I want Shake mama"(Burger King, and Jack in the Box) "Chicken nuggets pleeeeease" (Wendy's, McDonalds) and so on and so on. I see a Fast Food Intervention in my future.

A few weeks ago, my son said something to me that has haunted me. We were sitting in the parking lot eating our Wendy's, and he says to me, "You're happier now aren't you?" And then he said, "I feel happier when I eat too". Oh boy. This is not good. My 9 year old even recognizes my behavior. Yes...I feel happier when I eat. My mood definitely is brighter after I have partaken of some tasty morsel. I get excited when I know that I am going to go out to eat, and I think about what I am going to order. It's fun to take my kids to get icecream and they know that I will be fun and happy, so they in turn are excited. Wow...that's messed up.

So...what have I done to remedy the situation? Have I changed my life and started feeling giddy while eating carrots? Nope. I have remedied the situation by going to my "fun" places while my son is at school. That should help. Baby steps here people! :)

Does food make you happy? It sure makes me happy...for a while...until I am laying in bed at night beating myself up over eating way too much and getting fatter. Such is life. And here I sit typing this, thinking non-stop about the chocolate pie in the fridge. Time to go and partake.

P.S. If you are wondering who this random person is typing this...don't worry...you are not alone. I have not posted in a long time. I am back...and ready to rumble!

Oops, I Did It Again

I've gotten fatter.

The funny or weird thing about fat, though, is that I actually still weigh five pounds less than I did when I went on the hCG diet in May, but man oh man am I fatter.

I asked Skinny Man tonight if he'd go out with me on Wednesday to shop for new clothes. I need to be able to wear jeans that don't make me feel like my circulation has been cut off. I need to be able to find something in my closet that won't cling to the fat billowing over the top of my jeans.

We've been watching What Not To Wear lately. We both know what I should be looking for. Sweet, sweet man that he is, Skinny Man didn't even hesitate. He took me by the waist (yes, the fattest part of me) and said "I would love that."

It doesn't make me happy to be buying new fat clothes, but I know I'll be a lot happier if my clothes fit comfortably and I look my best. I might even go to Lane Bryant or Torrid. I'm probably just a size twelve or so, but . . . maybe I'll feel better shopping there, and be more likely to find things cut for girls with the wrong kind of curves.

In the interest of girlfriend sharing I *might* take pictures. But don't hold me to it. ;)

You Mean, Doing Nothing Doesn't Work?

Notice my weight ticker in the sidebar? Notice how it's going to the left instead of to the right?

Yeah, that's because doing nothing, doesn't make me lose weight. Doing nothing makes me gain weight.

Huh. Who'da thought?Today my jeans were so tight that there was a good three or four inch gap between the zipper when I just let them go. I had to really work to get these babies on. And now of course I feel like all of me is piling out of the top of them. Very nice. Sooo attractive.

And it means I have to face facts and accept that eating whatever I want, however much I want, not drinking any water and not exercising is not working for me.

Dang it.

Celebrate Your Body

This post goes along the same lines as Ali's, in that we are beautiful and need to learn to love ourselves just as we are. How much healthier it would be to our minds if we simply celebrated our bodies--every ounce of us.

The story Ali used about the woman that spread lotion all over her body really struck me. At first I thought . . . NO WAY! How disgusting. There is no way I could do that, but then something happened this weekend that made me rethink it.

A friend of mine said something to me that made me remember how I've always molded my life around what other people thought I should be like, who they thought I should be and lived how they thought I should live. My Father told me almost every day that no man could ever love a woman that was fat, like me. I've let those wounds fester and destroy certain parts of my life, especially my self esteem and I am so tired of it. I'm sick of hearing his voice echo in my head.

As I was sitting in church on Sunday, giving this a little more thought and wondering how I was going to be able to put myself in the public eye in order to promote my book, I realized something. I don't care anymore. If I'm not liked just as I am, too bad. Yes, I'd love to be healthier and I certainly need to build up my stamina and there is no doubt I'd like to fit into some great clothes, but not for anyone but ME.

So, today I celebrate my body . . . just as it is . . . every single ounce of it.

Learning to Love Yourself

My friend Jen wrote this amazing article today about whether you can lose weight simply by loving yourself.

Essentially, Jen references a pair of women who were featured on our local news the other night. These women practiced "self-acceptance"--the art of loving your body, accepting it in its imperfect state, and quitting the constantly-on-a-diet roller coaster.

I found this possibility fascinating. It resonates with truths that I believe in and have only just recently been starting to recognize.

Once I heard a story of a woman who's doctor advised her to lovingly spread lotion on her body twice a day. She was morbidly obese and at first the thought of not only seeing her naked body but touching it filled her with dread. As she had gotten heavier and heavier she had seriously disconnected from her body, barely acknowledging it in her daily hygiene routine.

Yet, she faithfully began the practice her doctor recommended. At first she was disgusted, then she grew more accepting. Her skin became smooth and supple, moisturized by the twice-daily lotion.

But soon, she began to notice something else.

She enjoyed the moments of quiet attention to her body. And her body slowly responded to the love by releasing much of the weight she'd been hanging on to for so long.

That story has lingered in the back of my mind for some time now. But now, after reading Jen's article, it's jumping to the forefront, demanding I pay it some attention.

I really love the notion of self-acceptance. Of loving yourself even in your imperfection.

But the idea also kind of frightens me. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I really don't love myself? Certainly not my body.

My body has always betrayed me. I couldn't break bones when I tried to so I could get attention from my family when I was little. I enjoyed sex taken from me by an abuser. I've always used my body as a weapon--against others, against myself, to punish, to control.

I know, maybe a bit too much information. But this is a safe place for me. A place to face these scary truths. Because they are mine. And hey, maybe this is the first step in finally accepting myself. In finally coming to love myself, from the inside out.

My Relationship With the Scale

Every morning I walk into the kitchen and open the pantry door. I'm not only greeted with a variety of food I shouldn't eat, but also my scale. That's right people. I keep my scale on the floor in my pantry. What better place. I literally have to scoot it to the side or step on it to reach out for food. Too bad it doesn't grab hold of my foot and tackle me to the floor when I choose something from the shelf that's going to make me gain a pound or ten.

So, there I stand, face to face with the evil numbers that seem to rise and fall with no sense of rhyme or reason. Will the numbers make me happy or depressed? It seems that the scale has complete control of my life, my happiness, my emotions and self worth. How do I get past that? How do I tell myself and the scale that I am in control of my life and the food I put into my mouth? And most importantly, how do I gain control and get this stinkin' weight off? I guess if I had all the answers I'd be making the big bucks, eh?