At Times Like This, You Need Chocolate. Or Pizza.

Ever have those weeks where you want to bury your head in the sand? Literally? Just to see what would happen? Knowing me I'd probably surface with some rare form of mold that eats all your hair. Anyway - I've just had one of those weeks.

Since I'm addicted to lists and firmly believe list posts are easier to read, let me list you my crappy week.

1. I'm addicted to food. I know it, you know it, the world knows it. My taste buds just refuse to listen. I wish I could just numb my tongue for a month and be done with it. remember when people used to wire their jaws shut and drink liquid for x amount of time? Yeah, I'd do that. then I'd probably break all my teeth trying to get to the Halloween candy. Such is life.

I really would do this to lose a few pounds...

2. Saturday morning at 1 am my neighbors were having a drunken idiot fest party across the street. I went to go get Wendy's (refer to item number one for why in god's name I left my house at 1 am for FOOD.) The rejects across the street saw me leave, saw me come back. Someone else (read: not me.) called the police on their loudness. Twice. Then at 3am, one of the drunk diptards walks up to my house, opens my screen door, and tries to open my door. Twice. Without knocking or anything. I thought someone was ready to add a new ventilation system to my forehead by way of the gun - so I creep to the side of the door and watch the jackwad go back to party central. I had never been so scared in my entire life. I run upstairs, wake up my ex-marine husband (just saying that makes me feel better...) and call the cops. Not 5 minutes later they come screeching up my street and start hollering at all the party animals. Hollering. Loudly. Hooray for police brutality. I'm all for it at this point - I wanted one of them to beat someone up. I was pissed. Anyway, party breaks up, I can't do anything about the pseudo break in because I didn't know which moron to point the finger at. Shame. The police and the retards left and I was up till 5 am trying to not have a heart attack from fear.

I felt like this was going to happen and I was going to die. Or be beat to a pulp.

3. Sunday morning, at 6 am , I am taking my brother to the hospital. He has kidney stones. Lots of 'em. I woke up, after about a half hour of sleep (because my husband snores. loudly. In stereo.) and crawl in the passenger's side of my car because frost has frosted my door super shut. After about 20 minutes of thawing we're on our way, and I'm thinking - "I hope I don't do anything stupid, because I'm really tired. My normal superhero-esque reactions are not up to par this evening night morning."  Five minutes later I run over a dead deer in the middle of the highway going 70 mph because I'm trying to get my poor brother to the hospital asap. A big dead deer. In my little 96 Honda Civic. I get to the ER, my engine is smoking, and I have a panic attack while trying to check my brother in and be there for him. My family is all sleeping, I have no one to call and I look like a moron in streaky left over mascara from the night before. To add to the fun and games, I hurt my shoulder and back muscles. Which I had to deal with for 6 hours while the moron doctors decided my brother had kidney stones. Um - to quote a favorite cartoon, "you just earned your - Uh, Der - badge."

ALL OF YOU.

So life is.....

I don't know. My car is in the shop, I'm broke, and I'm afraid of my neighbors. I'm not really complaining, mind you , I'm just in shock. Fortunately I have Xanax and Codene to cope for the week. And I ordered a pizza. Veggie Lovers from Pizza Hut.

Don't judge me.

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Slap A Bitch

During all this time that I haven't blogged because I'm lazy for personal reasons, I have learned a few things about myself that I'd like to share.

1. "If there is food, I will eat it."

I hear this in my head throughout the day, with a Field of Dreams whisper - "If you cook it, Flabby will come." Truly. So now I have this weird baseball/Kevin Costner/food connection in my mind that just won't go away. I am now associating food with dead baseball players and corn fields. Lovely.

What I've learned, though, is not to buy snacky food and keep it in the house. Not for the husband, or the kid. They can all eat healthy right along with me - because if it's in the cupboard, I will eat it. Period.


2. Being fat colors every aspect of my life.

 Usually it's the color black. Anyway, I took my son to the movies Sunday for some mommy time. (I'm awesome. I know. That and I really wanted to see Real Steel again.) The whole time we were watching the movies, these horrible, awful , rotten teenage girls kept kicking my seat. I'm pretty sure they were using it for a footrest. It was extremely annoying, but I never said anything. The only, and I mean only reason I said nothing was this: I didn't want to hear her yell "fat bitch" at me. Or say anything that included the word fat in it. That is my singular fear at the moment. Being called fat when I stick up for myself. It plays out in my mind like this:

Me: Excuse me, could you stop kicking my chair please?

Stupid Teenage Girl: Shut up you fat bitch.

Then the scenario gets ugly because I punch her in the face and break her purty teeth. That part is fun to imagine.

You know you want to...

But it's sad I won't say anything because I'm scared of being called fat in public. Like they didn't already notice, because I wore my skinny jeans that day.

Whatever. The point is, I'm tired of being scared to live because of my weight. It's getting old, and the more I sit around at home, the fatter I'm gonna get.

Lessons learned.

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How Many Of You....

1. Log into your blog/email/facebook accounts 35 times a day just to see if you have comments?

(I do. It's sad, pathetic and a little stalker-ish. I'm literally stalking myself. Creepy.)

2. Actually say "LOL" or "WTF" in conversations?

3. Have bought Spanx, loved them, hated them, thrown them away, and promptly ran out and spent 60 dollars on yet another pair?

4. How many of you have done #3 twice in one week?

5. Secretly wish you were a ninja assassin?

6. Eat fudge brownie mix straight out of the bowl?

7. Have had enough mix left to actually make the brownies?

Whoops.

8. Weigh yourself after you go to the bathroom?

 (I mean, hey - 3 ounces of pee is still 3 ounces. I can put it under the

"weight lost" category in my mental tally book.)     

9. Have actually picked all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms?

10. Cry while watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy?

11. Think that walking to the fridge and back counts as exercise?

12. Photoshopped pictures of your face onto someone else's body just to "see" what it would be like to be skinny?

See? I'd be an awesome Tomb Raider.

13. Want to take a walk outside, stand at the door and then go sit on the couch, because - let's face it, whales don't walk?

14. Have a love/hate relationship with America's Next Top Model?

15. Realize that everyone in your family is skinny - Except for you?

If you have said yes to 5 or more of the above - congratulations, you are a Flabby McGee too. 

Just go with it.

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Chocolate And Me

All I want is chocolate. It's all I can think about. I'm like.....a chocolate zombie. Instead of "braaaiiinns..." I'm moaning "Chocolaaatttte..."

It's sad.

Even my cupboard contents are out to mock me. Every time I open the doors I see this:

And this:

And finally, this:

It's horrible for me. It makes me think about candy bars. 

Despite the temptation though, I have not had one morsel of yummy, delicious, irresistable...

Oh, what was I saying? that's right, no chocolate. I've been a good girl. I almost broke last night - but I remained strong, and had a fruit grain bar thingy instead. 

Told ya I could do this.

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Sunshine and Happiness

I think I'm really a plant. I seem to use photosynthesis to survive.


After a terribly long, cold and frozen winter - The sun has finally come out. Literally. Well - the rain has come with it, but it's still warm so that's ok.

I find that the sunnier it is, the more I do. I know that's probably true for most people - but for me it's means the difference between 150 lbs. and 300 lbs. Some days I wish I lived in a land of perpetual summer.

Anyway - to get to the point - I stepped on the scale a few days ago and discovered (against all logic) that I had lost almost 10 pounds.

Craziness. How in the heck? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. But 10 pounds - just from sitting on my tushy, eating Creme Eggs? I didn't realize that was possible. But then I got to thinking and figured out I have been slowly eating less and less. Either I'm watching my 10 month old niece, Rosie - or I'm playing World of Warcraft. Each of those activities require both hands, therefore, less time to eat.

So when I saw that number I decided to bite the bullet and start exercising again too. I mean, heck - if I can lose 10 pounds lounging on the couch - I can lose more if I get up and move. So I've been taking my niece for walks around our little cul-de-sac every day. Four times around the little circle - which I think is a bout a half a mile.

I've also been watching what I eat. Not so much what - but how much. And it seems to be working.

Guess I just wait and watch the scale go down now.

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You're Not The Boss Of Me Now

I woke up this morning, thinking about food.

Well, to be fair, I fell asleep last night, thinking about food. As usual. And like I said, I woke up this morning - thinking,
"Oh boy, what's in my fridge...I'm starving." (and no, I'm not really starving. I'm to fat to be starving to death, trust me.) Anyway, I raced downstairs to find me some food and the most amazing thing happened.

I stopped and actually thought about what I was going to eat.

And that, my friends - is a miracle. Not a small one either.

I read a post a few days ago at Waisting Time. One of her readers asked her a question - basically, 'what are your goals?' It was a good question, and to be honest - I don't really have any goals other than "Be skinny, dammit!" But one of her responses was this:

I want to control food instead of food controlling me.

And I thought - Woah. Seriously. Not only does food control me, it whips me and beats me and owns my every action. Really - everything I do is based on food. Like, if I have money and want to go out, my brain automatically starts listing my favorite restaurants and what their menus are. What foods haven't I been able to eat lately and which are my favorite ones. I don't think about movies, or bookstores or even clothes shopping. I think about food first.

Or, if I'm depressed I run to the fridge and see what goodies it may be hiding. And I look forward to Holiday feasts with a fervor that is not completely normal.

It only gets worse. I will go to the kitchen, grab the easiest thing to eat (for example..a bag of candy, chips, cookies...get the picture?) and eat a whole bag/sleeve/carton. Then I look down and see an empty bag/box in my hand - it feels like I'm coming out of a small coma - and I think to myself - "Holy crap. Did I really just eat that??" I don't even remember. It's scary.

And eating just one. Or two. Or five of anything is a joke in my house. That's one of the main dieting tips, right? Eat just a few? HA. If I eat one, it usually means I'm going to eat them all. The whole bag. The whole carton. The whole box. There is absolutely zero amount of self control going on here.

So, is food my boss. Yup. But that's got to change. Fortunately for me, I actually thought about it this morning before I ate anything. So I'm going to try and plan out my eating for the whole day. Maybe tattoo it on my forehead. Or my butt - there's more room there.

Anyway, today I start controlling food. I'm going to fire food as my boss. Or technically, I guess I quit - since you can't fire a boss. Hmm, not sure how that works since I've never been a boss...but I'm the boss now! Of food! And I fire it! Wait. I need some food...

Oh crap. Well, I guess I'm just going to start thinking about what I eat and being more careful. No more food marathons at midnight and no more scarfing before thinking.

So now it's time to go make my breakfast (2 over medium eggs on wheat toast and cottage cheese) and be healthy today. About time too, because I'm starving....
 

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On Sleep, The Lack Thereof, and being a Good Girl.

I always have the best ideas for a post.

In the middle of the night.

I'll be half asleep, and pop awake with a gem of a post idea. I will tell myself to remember it, repeat it to myself 15 times, and then promptly forget about it as soon as I fall back asleep. When I wake up in the morning - I'm left with this vague feeling that I did something awesome yesterday, but I just can't quite grasp what it was.

And when I sit down to the keyboard and try to post something - I draw a huge fat blank. Usually I give up and write nothing. (Hence my month - (months?) - long absences)

But, I'm trying to post regularly, and I'm trying to get back on track.

Back on track. Hah. If I could find a way to type out 'snort and chuckle' on the computer, I would.

It's not that I don't try, I really do. I went out a few days ago for a food run, and got myself the Good Girl Subway Sub.

(i.e. Roast chicken on wheat, no cheese, all green veggies, hold the mayo and substitute mustard please.)

And then yesterday, I go out with my sister and manage to scarf 3 Jr. bacons and a large Chili with cheese. Yum! I mean, Bad Flabby McGee, BAD. Not to mention I can't seem to get near a gym. Although - to be fair - I'm sure there's an anti fat chick force field around the whole thing, repelling us chubbies by the dozens.

(I was looking for a picture of a cheeseburger - but they all made me hungry. So I stopped torturing myself.)

Still. I can't give up. I'd like to, but I can't. So I'm going to try again. Right now. I went shopping for all my Good Girl foods and I'm currently starving. I forgot to eat again.

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Back Again

So, looking back at my blog - I apparently fell off the face of the earth. I don't know why I do that, just disappear for months on end. I guess my only excuse is lack of inspiration. I always feel like every thing I write should be witty and intelligent, and I don't always feel witty or intelligent. But I digress.

I woke up this morning at 5am, and after snarfing 4 scrambled eggs and 4 pieces of toast, I found a list of successful weight loss blogs on yahoo. I paused for a moment and thought "Holy Crap. I used to have a weight loss blog. Wonder what happened to it? Is it still there, do people still love me?" Lo and behold here I am, with a flash of inspiration to boot. Whoda thunkit.

Where am I at? Well, I'm not at the gym, cuz I'm all Flabby McGee again with a whopping 319 pounds. I make myself sad. But I have decided to stop whining and moaning about it all and suck it up. I may mess up over and over (and over and over) but I'm gonna pick myself back up one more time and work on the whole getting healthy thing.

Well, here I am. Trying. Again. And in typical Flabby fashion, we'll just have to see how this all works out. Resetting the weight counter, and getting off my duff now. See ya later.

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Coversations With Myself

Me:  I'm hungry.

Inner Evil Self: Yeah, there's cake in the kitchen you know.

Me: Yes, I'm perfectly aware - you fat idiot pig. Shut up and let me sleep.

Inner Evil Self: It has roses. Big flower roses.

Me: Oh, no really? You think? I'm trying to lose weight here, and all you want to do is eat.  Mainly sugar.

Inner Evil Self: So eat cheese. Cheese is good.

Me: Not helping. My butt itches. And I need to sleep.

Inner Evil Self: You sleep better after you eat, ya know.

Me: Liar. And my butt still itches. So either help me out with that or shut the heck up.

Inner Evil Self: Ha! You can't reach your butt. So deal. We have cheese in the kitchen too.

Me: What is with you? can't you just help me out for once?? That would be nice - or shocking, take your pick.

Inner Evil Self: What fun would that be? OMG - Adam Lambert is on MTV.

Me: Kill me now. Did you just Oh-Em-Gee me?

Inner Evil Self: I'm trying but you won't let me. Big frosting roses, one's pink.

Me: I hate pink.

Inner Evil Self: Then the other one's yellow.

Me: I don't like yellow either, so there.

Inner Evil Self: You know you act like a child when you're hungry?

Me: So I've been told. Adam Lambert wears too much makeup and his music sucks.

Inner Evil Self: So do his videos, but that's not what we were talking about. Cake. You have cake. It even has your name on it.

Me: I hate you.

Inner Evil Self: Oh. No. My. Feelings. Are. So. Hurt.

Me: I'm tired. And I wish this song would end. What in the world happened to MTV?

Inner Evil Self: Talk shows, reality TV and Adam Lambert. CAKE.

Me: Oh yeah. NO. No cake.

Inner Evil Self: At least go lick the frosting off the edge of the plate. It'll be fun, I promise.

Me: You are the devil.

Inner Evil Self: Nah, he's busy  helping Adam Lambert write music.

Me: Huh. I guess. I'd go to sleep but I itch.

Inner Evil Self: Eat Cake.

Me: Fine.

Inner Evil Self: YES!

Me: Just kidding. Gotcha!

Inner Evil Self: You suck.

Me: Now you know how it feels. I'm going to bed.





This is what happens when you're still up at 5am.

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Electric Bills and Exercise

I'm so tired I need to prop up my eyelids with toothpicks. Or Q tips, but I don't think my eyelids will stretch that far. I would ingest some caffeine, but that doesn't really work for me. What I will probably do is go play video games all night until it's a proper time to go to sleep.

 Like, midnight. Or 2am. If I make it that far.

I had to pay my electric bill this morning, so I wouldn't get shut off. Technically I had to pay it Friday, so I called the robbers company, and found out that they don't do shutoffs Friday, Saturday or Sunday. Or holidays. Or the day before or the day after a holiday. You think with all I pay them they could afford to send people out everyday. Anyway - I thought, 'hey, let's pay them online this weekend!'.

Dumb Idea. I was going to use my brothers card - because it was his money we were using (we still have none) and too late, I realized you have to attach the whole bank account to the electric account. Not happening. Then I thought we'd pay over the phone. Not open. Jeez.

So I stayed up all night and drove over there and paid it this morning at the crack of dawn. Eight o'clock in the morning to be precise. Life is just dandy.

So, I'm tired and I really should go to the gym. But there's no way - I would fall off of the elliptical so fast you'd need a high speed camera to catch it. I have been doing horrible on my 'diet'. I had 2 peices of frosting covered brownies yesterday. And that's just yesterday. The last few weeks have been a joke. Chips, cheese, meat, food and more food and junk and sugar. Yeah. That kind of eating. So, the plan is to head back to the gym this week - but I gotta do it before my husband goes to work at 3 pm.

We'll see. Wish me luck!

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I'm Tired

I'm so tired.

Tired of not eating cake.

So I ate some.

Tired of not eating chocolate.

So I ate some.

Tired of not drinking soda.

So I drank some.

Tired of getting up and going to the gym.

So I didn't go.

Tired of worrying about what I eat.

So I ate everything I could.

And now I'm sick. And tired. Now I'm tired of being lazy. And I'm tired of not focusing, and I'm tired of not having any self control. I'm tired of being a bum. And I'm tired of being fat.

My mother always told me - Change only comes when the pain of staying the same is more then the pain of change. Looks like she was right.

Yeah, I'm tired of that too.

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On Friendly's And The Food Therein

I went to Friendly's yesterday. 

I love food, I love eating out. I do not love low fat restaurant choices, and I do not like throwing food away, or eating half or portioning. I do not love any part of making good choices while eating out - or in. 

I wanted it all yesterday, A Honey BBQ Chicken Supermelt Sandwich on white bread with bacon. And fries. And a free Happy Ending Friendly's Sundae. With ketchup. And Ranch dressing. I was hungry, and drooling. Then I had a brilliant moment and realized something.

It may look like this:

 But what I'm really ingesting is this:

Now, ew. Could I really scoop Crisco out of a can and eat it by the spoonful? No. But I may as well if I eat out like that every time I go somewhere. 

I keep that up and then my body looks like this:

 And I end up like this:

 So, moral of the story is - don't go to Friendly's. Alright, not really. But learn to make better choices. I ended up having Honey BBQ Chicken Strips - no cheese, no bacon, no bread, no ranch. And a salad. I did eat fries, but only half of them. And I had a sundae - But it was my anniversary. 

 But I ended up feeling like this:

 And I don't want to feel that way anymore.

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The Universe Hates Me

"Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen."

I'm sorry, Ralph Waldo Emerson - but you are full of crap.

I've decided many things in my life - some are realistic, some are not. For example - "I want to do the dishes" (reasonable) and "I want to win the swimsuit competition at the Miss Universe pageant" (not so much). But the biggest, baddest, humdinger of a wish is usually - "I want to lose weight". Boy, if I had a nickel for every time..... you know how it goes.

My universe does not, in any way, shape or form, help me to accomplish anything. You want to know why?

My Future Home.

Let's start with gravity, shall we? Gravity is evil. If I lived on Mars, I'd weigh approximately 120.64 pounds. Such a beautiful number. But here on good ol' earth, I am a heavy and painful 320 pounds. It takes effort to get up in the morning, to make my food, and don't get me started on how hard it is to wash my back or shave my legs. Gross - but bluntly true. When the government finally does something with all the money it spends on space exploration - and we can live on Mars - I will be a happy person. Until then, I will keep fighting the universe.

The universe, ahh..the universe. The universe decided that my home should be ridden with bedbugs. Ew. Icky. Yuck. These little pests found their way to my home through some acquaintances  who decided to pull in a couch off the curb. Said acquaintances live above my in-laws house, and I believe that the nasty buggers found their way to me while I was over there. (how's that for trying to make sure I don't look like a a dirty person?) Either way - we got them here in my house. Then they decided to nest in my bed. So who do they bite? Me. Not my husband, but Me. I had bites covering my arms and legs. Wish I had taken pictures, I could have sold them to Guinness for the most bugbites on a single person. And if anyone's been bitten by bugs - you know they itch. And when you itch, you can't sleep. Not to mention - we had to get rid of our entire bed, and spent too much money on supplies to get rid of the nasty things. So I am sleeping on the couch, and my husband sleeps in a papa san chair. A chair! I'm 500 kinds of achy and tired. The universe is not my friend.

Food. Where do I begin here? I can't escape it, I can't run and hide from it. It's everywhere I look. You ever read magazines like Woman's day, or the ones they sell for around $2? Most of those give you "tips" on how to lose weight, and then - in the same issue - they give you 30 pages of recipes. And are they low - fat, fat - free, low - cal, low anything? Nope. It's all about fat, and butter and salt. And I just love TV. Oh boy - that's my favorite. I can't watch anything - ever. There's commercials for Wendy's, Applebee's, Baskin Robbins, TGI Friday's, I could go on forever. There's one food commercial I can watch - Subway. They motivate me. (5, 5 dollar, 5 dollar footlong..any,any,any...) Food is everywhere. Gas Stations, the mall, the movies, my own home. I have to have it to survive, but why did the universe have to come up with things like, sugar. Or chocolate.

The universe did not make anything plus size. Except caftans. Or beds. That's about it. The movie theater seats squish my hips. The seat belt in the car is a danger zone and I firmly believe it will kill me instead of save me if I ever got into and accident. It slides above my boobs and chokes me half to death. I have to put the chest strap back behind my head - if I can manage to buckle it. Gyms - don't get me started there. All the seats are tiny. The bicycle seat gave me a wedgie, and the equipment does not allow for anyone to have a belly. I have to be a contortionist to fit into some of those machines. Booths at restaurants are - 95% of the time - too small. I always have to check and see if the table slides before I sit down. Amusement parks - forget it. Last time I rode the bumper cars I almost gave myself a hernia.

Ok, this is not my butt. But this is how I feel when I go to the movies.

So, that's how the universe treats me. It's not nice, not friendly, and it's not exactly helping me achieve my goals. Thanks a lot, universe.

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Eating and Autopilot

Ok. This eating right thing is way harder than I thought. Way harder. Way. Harder.

I woke up today hungry (as usual) and went to the kitchen. I reached for my usual breakfast of 4 eggs (with cheese) and 4 pieces of toast (with butter). I had them out of the fridge and ready to crack before my brain screamed "What are you doing?????" at me. I immediately halted, returned eggs to the fridge and went for the Honey Nut Cheerios. Generic, of course - but who's looking? I walked over to the cupboard and went to get my tub of butter sized bowl that I use for soup, ice cream and cereal. In fact, I think it may have been a tub of butter once, but now I use it so I can have 3 helpings of anything all at once. Without having to get back up off the couch to go and get the 2nd and 3rd helping. The bowl wasn't there, and I was on autopilot looking for it - before I realized that 3 bowls of anything was about as bad as 4 eggs. I thought I was being healthy - but it turns out I wasn't even thinking. At all. Period. I finally got myself a real bowl (not a mini mixing bowl) of cereal, and sat down to eat, read, network and blog.

Yep. There it is, my "cereal" bowl.

What truly bothers me is the amount of food that must be making its way to my mouth before I realize it. I can sit down and scarf a whole tray of Oreos before I've even consciously thought about it. I can't do that with Little Debbie snacks - but only because I have to open each individual snack. I go to McD's and order 3 double cheeseburgers, and don't consider what I'm eating until I get halfway home. How do I keep track of my food, when I subconsciously eat? Sure, I caught myself today - but how do I always remain on guard? Grr.

Well, aside from my food difficulties, I have decided that I need to workout at home as well as at the gym. I want to achieve a total of 25 workouts a month - hence the ticker at the top of the page. I don't think I'm going to lose much weight unless I'm more active at home. I actually went to the gym and discovered I had gained a pound. Gained?!?!?! My friend C insists that it's all muscle. I'm going to believe that for now.

So, in short - 25 workouts, eat right. Ok. I can do this.

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A Day At The Gym

I have done it! I went to the gym. For some that may not be much - but for me it's a milestone.

I've been going for about a week now, with my best friend. I went 2 days last week, and I went for the first time this week today. I want to get about 3 workouts at the gym a week. And I want to do some sort of physical activity at least once a day. Except for maybe Sunday. Sunday's a good day to chill out.

So....the gym. Yeah. What is it about the gym that scares me so much? Let me give you a day in the life of Fatty McGee at the Gym.

9:30 AM - Trying to get some extra hours of sleep after putting my son on the bus. I toss, I turn, I cover my eyes with a sock, and the Hubby wakes me up to tell me that my friend C called and wants to go to the gym. The tossing and turning turns into moaning and groaning, because all I want to do is SLEEP. I went to bed at 3 am, woke up at 8. But, I know if I don't do this today, I won't do it later on. Time to start making myself do what I don't want to do. So I get up, throw on the famed red underwire bra, and get ready to work out at the gym. Oh, the fun, the fun.

10:15 AM - C picks me up and off we go. Talk, talk, talk. Ok we're here. I go in and the first thing I need is my credit card, I'm thirsty and have no pockets and no change. I'm too lazy to carry a wallet around the gym (carrying a drink is enough of a pain) so I yank my card out of my bra strap, and swipe me a Gatorade. Pull my membership card from the same place, ignore the stares, and in we go.

You're smiling and running? I hate you.

10:30 AM - I'm here. Goody.  Now, I will state right here for the record that there is no way I would be here without C. We have a women's only part of the gym, and although it's women - it's still intimidating. Miss Skinny Blonde is on the floor doing crunches, and Beautiful Brunette is on the elliptical. I make my way to the treadmill, while C tans a little, and start warming up. Setting the treadmill on 1.5, off I go. I work up a sweat, and feel like I'm booking it along - I'm doing great! Then I look over at the other girls....and they're running. Running. Sheesh. Note to self - buy blinders.

11:00 AM - C's done and we start the weights. Machines only - I'm not crazy enough to pretend I know how to lift free weights. We make the rounds, and I notice one thing. Weight machines do not come in plus sizes. My hips and thighs hang over the edge of every seat. I look around and wonder how many people are laughing at me, and how many are waiting for me to break the machine. the only thing that keeps me going is talking to C. Distraction is my friend here. The good thing is, every muscle feels every move, so I'm doing something right somehow.

11:30 AM - Back to the cardio stuffs. C gets on the elliptical, and I decide to join her. 2 minutes later and I decide to try the bicycle. 2 seconds later, I just stick to the treadmill. My butt's too big for anything else, and my thighs can't handle elliptical workouts. C's going on 2 miles, and I'm working on 5 minutes of walking at 1.5. This is truly sad. I see many different people starting to work out - a Muslim lady, a lady with 5 pounds of green eyeshadow on (at the gym?!?! Really?) and a middle aged lady doing yoga on the floor. She has a bit of a muffin top too, so I don't feel so bad. But now it's time to leave. Note to self - find out when the fat people go to the gym so I don't feel so alone.

12:00 AM - Back in the van, cooling off, I decide to go to Subway and get me a foot long veggie on wheat. For fun I decide to try spinach leaves, I hear they're good for you. I even feel stupid ordering veggie on wheat, because I just know they're waiting for me to order the meatball sub with 3 cookies. I fool them all - I get Baked Lay's. Ha. Time to go home and eat in peace and anonymity.

So that's it. Every time. The gym scares me, but since I have C, I can handle it. I know I can do this, I just have to be as stubborn about this as I am about getting up and going to McDonald's for breakfast.

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The Moment Of Awareness

I woke up one warm morning in May, slowly getting out of bed, wearing the customary pajama pants and requisite grubby T-shirt. I was sore, tired, and hungry. I wanted food, but didn't want to cook anything. Heck, I was too tired to even toast an English Muffin. Wearily I glanced at my holey red underwire bra and decided I was too tired to put it on. The shoulder straps dig my shoulders and the wire digs into the fleshy part of my back. I am no glutton for punishment, so I figured that the man in the drive thru window of McDonald's didn't care much about how high my boobs were that morning. Instead I reached for my tattered purple sports bra, the bra that keeps my breasts off of my knees, but thankfully requires minimum effort to wear. Throwing my ancient navy blue hoodie on, I gathered some energy, and went to the car.

Once in the car I realized that it would have taken just as much effort to grab a pop tart. Oh well, I was already in the car - there was no going back. Besides, McDonald's was sounding better by the moment. Wrestling the seat belt around my fat rolls, I started up the car and off I went.

Yum.

Reaching McDonald's in that miraculous time between breakfast and lunch, I saw that there was no line. Glad that there was nothing keeping this fat girl from her food I ordered 2 ham, egg and cheese bagel sandwiches, 1 hash brown, and 1 large Mocha Frappe. Yum. Oh yeah, I got some sausage egg Mcmuffins for the hubby while I was at it. Too make me feel less guilty I grabbed him a Mocha Frappe too. I'm so thoughtful it's scary.

Once at home, I woke up the Man, and left him his food. I went downstairs, plopped onto my side of the couch, and ate one bagel sandwich as fast as I could. I didn't want my husband to find out exactly how much I had ordered, or how much I spent. It was good, but I barely tasted it. When he finally came downstairs I was working on my second sandwich, and he remained blissfully unaware of my expenditure. And my appetite.

It was somewhere in these morning moments that I realized something. I had not seen my bellybutton in about 19 years. If I get a mirror, and lay flat down on my bed - I just may catch a momentary glimpse. But I haven't seen it in forever, primarily because I'm just too lazy to get the mirror out and find it. I realized that I don't know what it's like to have a flat stomach, or what if feels like to shop in a regular store. I don't know what it is to sweat, much less work out. I'm 31 years old, and I'm on 4 different medications, because of weight related health problems. I can't play soccer with my 9 year old son, or walk around the mall with my friends. I realized that I'm scared, and I don't want to die of a heart attack at age 40.

So this is my wake up call, my last ditch effort to take back my life. This blog will hopefully serve at a place to vent, whine, brag and boast. I want to be the success story, the woman who loses 150 pounds (or more) through natural means. I can do this.

My plan? Exercise, I joined a gym with my best friend - who is willing to work out with me 3 times a week. Eat right, I don't know how - but that's what the Internet is for. I can research, and learn what I need to know. So, join me as I try to solve The Case Of The Missing Bellybutton - laugh, cry, snort, mock, whatever you want. Just don't offer me a cookie.

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