Oh Dear...Get Thee to a Juicery

Goals of this past week:
*  Exercise 5 days with 2 of those days doubled up to do both the Mat Workout and Dance Cardio by Tracy Anderson:  YUP - Check - Wasn't always the most motivated about it, but I did it!

*Weight Watchers Points on 6 days and the 7th day eat more (Wendie Plan):  I did them 5 of the days, but decided that I should eat more 2 of the days...my Mom sent Matthew Birthday Cookies and there was no way that I wasn't going to partake in baked goods from my fabulous Momalah.

*Water, Vitamins, Fish Oil Daily Intakes:  I completely slacked on water for a couple of the days...and the scale showed it -

The numbers say +1.4 pounds...which means I'm .2 pounds away from where this journey began! hahaha!  For crap sake.

There are plenty of things I did wrong this week - I ate some of the points I gained through exercising, and didn't drink enough water.  I also craved salty goodness...and well, ladies, this does have something to do with what we have to deal with on a monthly basis.  I'm feeling as bloated as Violet Beauregarde when she turned into a blueberry and they had to roll her to the juicery. 

When I think about "bloat", I think about "boat" and "float".  Everytime I feel bloated, I picture a group of people gathered on a shore as they put me out to sea.  They wave handkerchiefs, blow kisses, and call out luck for the voyage.  My swollen limb waves goodbye, as my head struggles to look at them from my ghastly swollen body.  I glide boyantly over the waves into the expansive horizon.  "Bye, bye friends!  I shall return from this journey in seven days!  Thank you for laying the fudge stripe cookies upon my belly - they will surely come in handy!"

Hopefully I will deflate soon - this will surely teach me for not drinking enough water and too much salt!        

Does this deodorant make me look fat?

I'll enlighten you all with a more thorough review of the Doctors Roizen's and Oz's book, "YOU: On a Diet" at some point in the near future (if I can finish it).  So far, readers' waists have been compared to convention centers and the moon, and I'm only on page 75.

Oh, and the accusation that I gained my weight stuffing eclair after eclair down my throat wasn't my favorite moment, either.   I could stand naked in front of a middle school pep rally and not get such insensitivity (although I could get jail time).  I am not advocating streaking your local middle school.

Then, while digging for more pearls among the pig poop in the book, I read another shocker.  Between incessant adolescent and seemingly not-very-well-thought-out similes, the doctors give us a possible excuse for our being overweight - our deodorant, namely deodorant with aluminum (which includes just about every stick of deodorant with an antiperspirant).  Pshew!  For years now, I've been under the impression that I've been carrying extra weight because I love to eat but hate working out.  Thankfully I have something other than myself to blame this on.  Finally!

equals 

Not so fast.  It seems after a pretty quick Google search, there isn't much support for the doctors' claim (they don't provide a citation, either), and, frankly, I'm not sure how much I can really trust them after comparing my waistline to the moon.

THE MOON!

The nerve.

The fact is that a very small number of those of us who are overweight or who have struggled with weight issues can blame the extra pounds on extraneous circumstances.  Again, those people are the extreme minority.  For me, instead of blaming my deodorant, my parents, the cycle of the moon, or President Obama (it just seems easy to blame the president for ANYTHING) for my extra weight, I need to be honest with myself and admit my weight came on from a love of all things starchy and fried, and sometimes nothing sounds better than pizza and breadsticks drowning in garlic butter at 9pm.  For most of us, the responsibility for our wanting to lose some excess weight starts and ends with ourselves, and that's okay.  Own it, and then start taking steps that work for us as individuals to fix it.

He'd Be So Great If Only He Were Thin.

Samm and I have been reading You on a Diet: The Owner's Manuel for Waist Management by Michael F. Roizen and Mehmet C. Oz (Dr. Oz).  This book has truly been amazing and I would suggest it to anyone and everyone simply because of all of the information about the human body.  While I am sure that Samm and I will do reviews of this in the future, there is something that has been bothering me ever since I read it.

pg.170:  found under "Dieting:  Avoiding the Issue"
"For a second, think about one particular kind of person - the extreme example of fat gone wild.  These people are often the stereotypical ideal - funny, kind, generous, charming, articulate, creative, and more brilliant than a perfect diamond - except for the fact that they're overweight.  (We all say it:  'He'd be so great if only he were thin.')  That bothers us."

Do people really say that about each other?  Does it really bother people?  I'd like to think not.  What happened to the idea of being judged "by the content of their character" (MLK)?  I understand caring about one another's overall health out of true concern, but this exerpt takes it to a level of being a judgemental bastard.  If we read this inbetween the lines, the person saying this must be of an advantage weight/health wise, and is judgemental.  They have a bigger battle to be fought in order to overcome such an elitist attitude.  They are shallow because their own character is lacking development, and this will be a detriment to their own quality of life.  They are not seeing others clearly.  Look past the exterior shell - look past the vessels we were born into - our bodies are only temporary facades protecting the soul within.

Anyway, I think losing weight is a lot easier than overcoming a character flaw of being an a-hole, and anyone can be absolutely fabulous at any size or level of health.  I do love this book, but I think this paragraph should be re-written/revised/deleted immediately.

Or have I just been sheltered from this?  Do you know anyone who would agree with this excerpt?  Did I misunderstand it, or do you agree?

Refried Beans and Weight Loss: Krystal's Week One Results

The goals for week one were:
*  Exercising 5 days this week (3 cardio and 2 for weights/toning)  CHECK!
*  Achieve Weight Watchers points 6 days and can use extra points for one day if I want to - (There's a theory backing up this choice- the Wendie Plan)  CHECK!
*  All days multivitamin/fish oil pills and water intake.  6 out of 7 days


I lost 80 pounds of gravity, and am now waif-like.  Thank you, Weight Watchers and Tracy Anderson!
(Insert plastic smile with a gleaming teeth here, complete with sound effect of "ding!)  Okay, now for the real numbers...I lost 1.6 pounds this week and it's a good start. 

I worked for that number.  I mean WORKED!  It definitely made me realize that it's going to take a lot of dedication and determination.  That's alright - I'll do this.  It's time.  I will be like a slug crawling up your arm - slow, focused and consistant.  (NOTE:  I will not be like Mike Tyson and be ferocious with impetuous style and eat your children.)

Relevant Good Thing of Week One:  This burrito-

Made with the following ingredients:

 and

I can't say enough about the Rosarita No Fat Chile and Lime Refried Beans.  They are a true godsend of fiber and refried bean bliss without saturated fat.  Hats off to this little can!  I think it will be on our grocery list frequently in the future.  Matt and I loved it!  SO GOOD!  Also, I have to confess that I'm addicted to Mexican food and if I could I would eat it daily.  This is why I'm so happy about this little burrito of bliss.  You see a simple bean burrito, I see a revelation.

Goals for Week Two:
 *Exercising 5 days this week again, however 2 of the days I will do both the Mat and Cardio workouts back to back (this is what she suggests, however I never did this in the past).
* Achieve Weight Watchers points 6 days and can use extra points for one day if I want to - (There's a theory backing up this choice- the Wendie Plan)
* All days multivitamin/fish oil pills and water intake.
 
Love to all, and thanks for reading!  Now go find those refried beans!  Cheers!

Sub Robs Woman of Cake

This is not my sub...it's a public domain photo I found of a sub at Quiznos.

At the beginning of the week, one of my goals I listed was meeting (not exceeding) my Weight Watchers points for 6 out of the 7 days.  That meant that one of those days I was going to allow myself to use some of my flex points (additional points for the week so I could eat something spectacularly naughty if I wanted).

The week was going great until yesterday.  I made a decision to go to Quiznos and bring home Mesquite Chicken subs and cups of Brocoli and Cheese soup for a surprise lunch for Matthew and I.  I was thinking that the soup would not be the best decision points wise, but I would just make up for that later in the day.  I also thought that the subs couldn't be that bad either because it was bits of grilled chicken on wheat with vegetables.  I realized while eating it that it had bacon, cheese and ranch dressing on it.
FAIL.

I remained optimistic that it couldn't be that bad.

FAIL.

I looked up the nutrition information after my lunch was consumed.

EPIC FAIL.

Mesquite Chicken Sub (Regular)
Calories: 790
Fat: 39 grams...WHAT?!?!!
Fiber: 4 grams

The sub ended up being around 18 points.  The soup was only 3 (to my surprise).
Together that is nearly all of my points for the entire day!!!  It became apparent that I was going to be using my flex points yesterday, though I wanted to save it for something a bit more naughty than a day I ate a chicken sub on wheat bread. 

I should have just ate cake and called it a day...or had someone inject me with a syringe of fat.

Today will be better - I'll look up the points BEFORE I eat something.  Perhaps trusting my intuition was an extremely bad move, but I do finding myself asking how does the sandwich I ate yesterday contain so many calories and fat?!  Do they inject it with fat?!  If I made the same thing at home, I doubt if it would have been anywhere near those numbers.  What exactly are we eating?

Do You Know?

Posted on YouTube by Aames666

(Samm and I did not make this video...which is pretty obvious when you view the content.)

Do you know where you're going to?  You do if you have goals.  For instance, my goal is to someday be in a bikini in an Audi listening to Avril Lavigne and will go through a transition of Vertigo to finally look like Beyonce or Angelina Jolie.  I will wear Victoria Secret and travel a lot.

It's all about goals, people.

The F-Word

Fluffy, voluptuous, big-boned, husky (Dear Jesus, please don’t let anyone see my mom holding up jeans to my waist in the husky section.  Love, Sammy). 

We’ve all got our little bag of excuses filled with make-us-feel-better words sitting somewhere within relatively easy reach at all times.  For some of us, that bag is tucked neatly away next to those several pairs of 32” inseam jeans that we haven’t been able to get past our knees for the past two years because it’s only a matter of time until we’ll be able to fit into them again and jeans are expensive and who knows how long this recession will last and it’s always good to be prepared (I wouldn’t know anything about that).  For others, that bag is covered in the stench of mothballs in the nether regions of your closet where those old college mini dresses went to die but you couldn’t possibly get rid of them because of all of the memories attached of being thin, carefree, and drunk and passed out at that frat house. 

Regardless of where we keep that little bag of excuses, all of those words that we’ve told ourselves over the years mean the same thing. 

Fat.

It’s just a word, but it’s a word that many of us have given far too much power over the years.  Like the words smart, pretty, or a-hole, we too often allow single words to become all-encompassing to explain who we or those around us are.  Don’t fear the fat, because let’s face it – the more we sweep anything under the rug by ignoring it, the easier it is for that to become a bigger problem until it’s such a terrible problem that we begin to ask ourselves, “What’s the use?” and give up. 

To be successful in battle, we must admit that the enemy exists.

Fat.  It’s the enemy, and we’re all ready for battle.

Say it with me – “F you, Fat!”

The Wrath of Water (End of Adjustment Week)

The Week of Readiness has ended...

Exercise: 4 days (Tracy Anderson Dance Cardio 3 times and Tracy Anderson Mat Routine once)
Days of Weight Watchers Zen (achieving 23 points): 5  (I used the 35 points on the other two days, and then some possibly...)
Water Intake:  5 of the days very good, other two just okay.
MultiVitamin/Omega 3 Pills:  4 days yes,...


Goals of the Official Week One will be:

* Exercising 5 days this week (3 cardio and 2 for weights/toning)
* Achieve Weight Watchers points 6 days and can use extra points for one day if I want to - (There's a theory backing up this choice- the Wendie Plan)
* All days multivitamin/fish oil pills and water intake.




Readiness Week in Summary:  The Revenge of Water
Water...I know you are necessary and I know I haven't drank you enough, however you were pretty full of revenge this week. 

First incident of revenge -  I was on the phone with a good friend who was having a rough day.  I was listening thoughtfully when all of a sudden I had to go to the bathroom, and there was no waiting about it.  I only had time to say quickly and in a stressed out fashion while cringing with my hand on my head and sitting on the porcelain, "I'm so sorry, I have to pee."  I was hoping that it would not be loud, while also thinking how rude it was and how rude it would have been to abruptly end the phonecall in the middle of her confiding in me.  It was rude no matter what I chose.  HORRIBLE.  AWKWARD.  EMBARRASSING.  Thankfully, she is a good friend and she understood.  Thank goodness it was not a phone interview or something of that manner.

Second incident of revenge - (this made us even)...I had a physical this week and I was fully expecting to have to do the urinate into a cup trick.  I dutifully drank 2 glasses of water before I left.  By the time I walked into the office to do paperwork, I had that feeling that no one would be delayed because I could not fulfill their requirement.  It was another 15 minutes before I was called...and then after realizing that my eyesight sucks now, it was another session of waiting in a tiny white room with a fancy hopital gown and sheet.  Every minute became more and more unbearable.  The room suddenly was getting warm, I was beginning to sweat as I waited patiently.  All I could think about was my bladder as I pushed back my cuticles and sat there trying to distract myself by looking at the digestive tract poster.  The room was getting smaller.  The lack of color difference between the walls, floor and ceiling made it seemed to want to mess with my equalibrium.  I realized it was all because my bladder was full and overdue.  What was regularly a nice, quiet, calm experience turned into a chamber of Hell. 

The doctor came in after 30 minutes with an apology for taking so long.  I smiled and told him that it was fine, though every question he asked I spoke quickly and urgently.  Finally he asked me to lay back because he had to push around my bladder/stomach area.  I panicked and rapidly blurted, "Okay, but I have to pee right now super bad and it's excruciatingly uncomfortable right now.  I'm so sorry."  That quick slur of words made the doctor move in fast forward and as soon as he pushed on my bladder he knew I had to get thee to a restroom!  Thankfully, within a minute I was dressed and on my way to the bathroom.  They ended up not needing the cup trick at all.

Lessons Learned: 
1.  Warn all people I talk to on the phone at the beginning of the discussion to get that out of the way.  If they hear a tinkling of water and flush and faucet it will be of no shock, and no interruption in sincerity.  Even if it has been awhile since you've talked to Aunt Gladdy or Cousin Mabel - it makes no difference.

2.  A full bladder being pushed on is a way to make hell on earth.

Ode to Cinnamon Puffins Cereal

Oh Puffins Cereal of Cinnamon,
How I love what you've done,
Barbara's Bakery since 1971.

Six grams of fiber can be unnerving,
With only 90 calories in one serving,
Low sugar, vegetarian, and Kosher are all found,
Ingredients and packaging all from the ground,
Gives me a mind that is peaceful and sound.

You make me want to run,
Without my pants needing to be undone,
Your taste is like a healthy Cinnabun.
Puffs floating in white silk,
Oh how I love you,
My Puffins Cereal of Cinnamon in milk.

**Also it's only one Weight Watchers point, and two with milk!  ...I'll drink to that!

For The Boys

Last night I was listing advantages of being more round versus being more angular.  Underneath the 'Angular' column, just below the advantage of "Everyone offers you cake", I listed the following:

You don't get into a bar fight when some muscular man calls you a "fat bitch",

because you know it's not true.  You would be able to laugh it off without

throwing two punches and getting dragged around the bar by him with

your best friend smashed between you.  This promptly followed by

crying in the pool room before leaving out of humiliation.

Now, before you write me off as "Little Miss White-Trash", let me explain where I'm going with this.

There is a Thank You letter that I've always wanted to write, but never have.  It is about time that I do.  It is addressed to all of my male classmates at Henry Park Elementary School.

To the Little Boys I Once Knew:

I was a chubby little girl, probably most of you remember.  I was often among the tallest in the class as well.  I didn't have any brothers or sisters to prepare me for bullying before I arrived at the double doors of the school.  I learned fast that if I was to survive elementary as a chubby little girl I needed to equip myself with a tough mentality, try to give it my all in gym class, and laugh things off.  (Thankfully my Mom and Dad helped me out with the last one - THANK YOU!)

I felt awkward about my size compared to the other girls...but who wouldn't when some of your best friends were half your size during such formative years?  I could have been a more than easy target for bullying...in fact of all places, I was bullied in dance class.  But anyway, you somehow taught me to "toughen up" when we would spar with each other on the blacktop.  Suddenly, I didn't have "cooties" and I remember being the only girl during indoor recess that you would allow to play with your matchbox cars.  It extended to gym class and outside recesses too.  Instead of having to play "Cheerleader", you let me play soccer with you.  I still remember one day that I actually scored a point for the team - it was a HUGE day that I'll never forget.  You all were so amazed and cheered me on with high fives and excited screams.

You taught me how to kick, how to punch, and how to stick up for myself.  I wore my heart on my sleeve, but you never made fun of me for that.  Instead, you'd politely ignore it to let me calm down, or make me laugh.  This definitely all extends to my male cousins as well, and I thank you for never making me feel left out as we played football, baseball, or paper airplanes.

You were all teachers for me, and thanks to you I saved $40 and my car title one night when some man tried to mug me when I was a poor college student.  Thanks to your expert training, I ended up fighting him off and running after him! hahaha!  You taught me how to be a single lady having to defend my own honor.  I realize that the story at the top was not my finest hour, and I should have used my humor instead, but at least I wasn't afraid just because he was a full-grown man.  Fortunately, it was an extremely rare incident as I am extremely opposed to solving anything through violence.  I definitely learned my lesson that night due to my embarrassment.

What you taught that chubby little girl extends far beyond these two stories, and I am grateful to have shared a childhood with you.  I always knew you as accepting, fun, and loyal.  I often wonder about you all and how you are doing.  I see how some of your families have grown through photos on facebook, or by talking with mutual friends.  Some of you continue to make me laugh through conversations or postings, and there are some of you that I have no idea where you are.  Hopefully you will find this at one point or another, and know that you made a difference to my life.  Thank you.

Sincerely,

Krystal, aka Stella, aka Stally, aka KB

PS  In this way, being chubby was a blessing.  How messed up is that? LOL

The Diet Police

It’s inevitable – you let it slip that you’re watching what you eat and then all of the sudden everyone around you is a dietective on the fricking food patrol.  Let anything other than a baby carrot or a water bottle in the vicinity of your lips and it starts:

“Oh, is THAT on your diet?” 

“How many Twizzlers IS that?”

These people are a-holes, plain and simple.  They question under the guise of trying to help us reach our weight-loss and fitness goals, but in actuality they’re trying to question our will power and chances of success.

“Why, yes, Rhonda, I can actually eat pretty much anything on my “diet” 

(use the air quotes just so Rhonda knows you’re serious).  It’s all about eating in moderation.  Now it's my turn to ask a question.  When do you think was the last time your stonewashed jean shorts were in fashion?” Then tilt your head, purse your lips, and wait for a response.

It’ll be the last time Rhonda asks if such-and-such is on your diet.

Just as bad are the people who start watching what they eat and automatically assume that everyone around them should adopt their new eating regimen.

“We can’t go to _____ - there won’t be anything I can eat.”

“Do you know how bad fried chicken is for you?”

Fifteen suggestions later and there’s still no decision on an establishment that can accommodate a vegan who has an allergy to nuts, legumes, gluten, whole grains, AND fun.

“Tell you what, Rhonda.  Go ahead and eat at home and maybe we can all meet up later.”

The lesson here is very simple – mind your own business, do what’s best for you at the time, and we’ll all get along.  Well, all of us except for me and Rhonda.

Some People...

Some people make working out look so easy. We've all seen them in gyms and running down the sidewalk in their vivid workout attire. Perhaps you are one of them. They seem to hardly break a sweat, breathe silently, and their complexions seem to go unchanged.

Several workout videos feature these amazing people.

This is not one of those videos.  Enjoy!

***Oops!  We're not a ".com" yet!  It should read www.fatisntfunny.blogspot.com!

Fear of Fish

Unlike Krystal, who blurted out her weight and fat percentage for all the world to see, I’m going to go ahead and plead the Jennifer Hudson on those numbers for awhile.  Instead, I’ll make up a word to represent those figures – triluboquotished. 

I will never be triluboquotished again!

Now, onto the real purpose of this post – fish.  Although I used to go fishing with my dad as a kid, the preparation has always been a bit of a frightening experience for me.  Maybe it’s because fish scales have always reminded me of dragon skin, and the thought of eating dragon meat is, quite frankly, unappetizing to me.  Or, perhaps it’s the fact that many people serve fish with bread – just in case you happen to start choking on a fish bone your chances of survival are increased with the huge chunk of dough ripping it out of your esophagus.  Regardless, I’ve avoided making fish at home in the past.

That ends today.

I’ll be baking orange roughy with a sweet and spicy glaze (sans skin, of course). 

“Weigh in” (tee hee) – what kinds of fish are your favorites and how do you prepare them?  Well, besides fried with extra tartar sauce, because we all know that’s really the best way to eat it.

There's a Monster in our Way

So now the quest for fitness begins! Day ONE! Oh, Day One, I know you well, dear friend. You have given me all the hope and promise one could ask for. Glad to meet you again.

I exposed my body to fitness yesterday and it didn't really love it. It was like a rebellious horse, or a stubborn mule, or a mentally challenged dog. It was trying to keep up with Tracy Anderson's endless energy on her Cardio Dance routine.  I often wonder what types of drugs she takes to have that boundless energy or how much editing is going on...because it is teetering on unnatural. (Dear Tracy Anderson, I don't really mean that you are on drugs. I just don't understand how you do what you do. It is supernatural perhaps? Did you sell your soul to the devil in order to never get winded or tired? Just wondering, Krystal)

Have you ever seen any of the Tracy Anderson Dance videos? Well, if you haven't, let's just say that to call it "dancing" is a bit of a stretch. It is more like jumping or skipping nonstop and then doing Michael Jackson twirls and jumping jacks every now and then. But I have to tell you - I LOVE it! Why? Because it makes me laugh while I am working out. I do not labor under the pretense that I look fantastic doing the moves. I do not. I look like someone drowning above water with flailing arms, kicking legs, a drenched torso, and a burgundy face. I laugh when physically able to breathe.

MAYBE I exaggerate.

But here is something I cannot exaggerate : BEGINNING MEASUREMENTS.

They are the inevitable monster at the beginning of this journey and they need to be dealt with.

If you have no interest, no need to read further. Thank you for reading! I appreciate all of the encouragement we have recieved so far from each one of you! THANK YOU!

But if you're like me, you require the info. I look at fitness mags and get annoyed when they fail to deliver the starting info...especially on height.  A person could weigh 500 pounds and be fit if they were 12 feet tall.  Likewise if you weighed 100 pounds but were 1 foot tall, you may need to workout a bit.  Height is everything.

Height: 5'7"
Weight: 174.6
Fat: 31%  (I like to say I have comfort when I bump into sharp corners.)

Some may say that is not fat, others will think that it is pleasingly plump, and still others will say I need to get to the gym immediately.  Well, this journey isn't about being mean to my body and judging it.  It's about eventually feeling good in my own skin, and being fit...so losing weight does become a part of it.  I simply don't feel comfortable at this weight, and yes, I have weighed a lot more than this in the past.  I just don't want it to get out of hand again. 

BRING ON DAY TWO!  :)

Fitness Elite of Angola

Life has a funny way of separating and then bringing Krystal and I back together.  I can't remember the year, nor is it important, but Krystal and I were both back in Angola for an extended time and we decided we were going to get fit.

We saw them often, jogging or briskly walking around town - not because they didn't have cars or had run out of gas somewhere, but because they wanted to exercise.  I know, weird.  Donning yoga pants and zippered hoodies or the once popular track suits, the fitness elite braved the streets rain or shine and many of them did it an an ungodly hour, like 9am.  On a crisp fall Indiana day, we decided it was our time.  With sneakers on our feet and cigarettes in our pockets, we set out to do what only a limited few in our small town had done - become fitness elite of Angola.

Although I lived less than a mile from Krystal, we decided it would be best for me to drive to her house and then begin our trek (we both shuddered to think of walking that distance alone - what would people think?).  We were off, enjoying the fresh air and each other's company.  One mile turned into two, two turned into three, and then both of us were struggling to make it up a slight hill on a back country road.  Choosing our pride over our cell phones to call for help, we were determined to make it back; after all, fitness elite don't need rides back to civilization.

After a minor scare from a galloping miniature horse in a fenced-in field (that looked a lot like a charging attack dog), our confidence in our stamina was growing, but our bodies were cursing our adventure and repayed us by turning our legs into concrete.  Practically crawling back to Krystal's, we encountered something that would change our lives forever: a fellow athletically inclined Angolian who gave us the signal.  The signal was nothing more than a half-hearted wave, but to us it was magic.  We had arrived.  We were officially among the fitness elite of Angola.  When the waver was out of sight, we stopped and each smoked a celebratory cigarette, basking in our new-found status.

That's something that no one will ever be able to take from either of us.  Well, maybe an attack dog could, but chances are it's just a miniature horse anyway.

My Little Red Wagon of Fat

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rawartists/5756311534/in/photostream/

This was it.  The link above contains the photo I saw today that solidified what I have been feeling for the past year.  I have been carrying too much of me about the town. 

I immediately called up my best friend, Samm (a.k.a. Schwann) and said, "I just realized that I'm fat, dear Shwann."  And of course we both started laughing.

I don't care for measuring up to anyone else's version of beauty.  They all have way too low of standards for my looks.  People tell me I'm very editorial and high fashion.

Anyway, it's more about feeling good and fit and ready to tackle the rest of my life.  I've struggled with weight throughout my life, and it gets pretty aggravating to have the same reoccuring problem through so many years.  It's as if I am the haunted kid in the movie Insidious and a red wagon of fat keeps circling my bed.  (Sorry, I simultaneously had a flashback of Oprah when she lost all of her weight and pulled out a bag of fat on stage in a wagon).  I've been through this so many times before that I know if I don't stop and get it together now, I will be an even bigger mess later. 

I'm in my early thirties and I know now is the time.  It is the time for both Samm and I to finally put this behind us.  We've been hiding behind our humor for too long.  We will now become those serious people who grunt in gyms too loudly, and never smile behind our sports goggles and biking helmets. 

Not really.  That would suck.  We just want to be fit before it's too late!  To one day feel physically capable of more than just laughing.  Love to all, and cheers to the attempt to change one's lifestyle!

But I'm Only 33

One week ago today, I woke up at 4:37am and couldn't move.  It took me nearly 15 minutes to get from my bed to my bathroom no more than 15 feet away and the entire time I feared that I was going to wet myself right there on my bedroom floor.  One week ago today, it seems, I turned 90 years old.

But I'm only 33.

The evening before, I was packing up some books and I had managed to pull something in my lower back with what was apparently an inappropriate lifting method.  I felt it slip and heard it pop and hurried to take a hot bath in the hopes that any damage could be quickly averted.  I was wrong.  One week ago today, I was reminded how increasingly important it is to take care of myself, especially as I get older.

I quit smoking a month and a half ago and it seems I replaced my pack-a-day habit with a Mac-a-day habit (curses to McDonald's for being everywhere).  In the six short weeks since I quit smoking, I have gained almost 10 pounds.  Pulling my back and being immobile for a week reinforced that it is time to do something about my not-so-young-and-spry-anymore body.  I had horrible flashbacks of a television show on TLC about how the world's fattest man had to be taken by flat-bed truck to the doctor, only after having the side of his house torn down so he could be taken out.  No thank you.

I remember the last time I was thin.  Toni Basil's "Micky" was popular and people called me Sammy.  It was 1982.  I was 4 years old and my love for all things fried and starchy had not yet kicked into overdrive.  When I first started gaining weight, I would pray at night. "Dear God, please let me have my baby while I sleep so I can wake up skinny," I would silently beg with my pudgy fingers interlocked and my young mind clueless about how babies were made.  "Love, Sammy," I would end, so the big guy would know it was me and not some other husky kid in my small town.  You know, just to be sure.

Fast forward 29 years later (how can that have happened so quickly and I still look 26, 27 tops?) and it's time I finally have this stinkin' baby.  I'll be working out consistently and eating foods that are better for me.  This is goodbye to my McDoubles from the dollar menu and hello to much better choices.

I'm not getting any younger.