Saturday, October 31, 2009
I'm sorry I haven't been able to update y'all since TMI Thursday. Vacation'll do that to ya.
I wanted to share some photos with you guys from the trip so far! I'll start with this one... since some of you noticed on Thursday that yes, my boyfriend's name is Dan, and my brother's name is Daniel. Here's a photo of them together (boyfriend on the left, brother on the right):
Denver got about 2 feet of snow in the Metro area, and the mountains got almost 4 feet! Here are some promised snow photos:
Dan caught this huge ladybug attacking my head while I was reading:
I love my brother, even though he tries to ruin every photo by being inappropriate:
I was lame and didn't play cards at my friend Wes' housewarming party last night, but I took some pictures of everyone else!
Diet-wise, I'm doing okay. We went out for Mongolian, and it was awesome! Of course fish, shrimp, veggies, tofu... all good for you. What's in the peanut sauce and thai sauce, I don't even want to know. Sugar, sugar, sugar.
Oh. OH. I have to share this video with you guys. This was Thursday night, and we were playing Spades at my brother's condo. (Favorite card game, ever!) -- The guy on the left is my brother's best friend Nich. My brother is on the right, and the guy in the middle is Dan (my boyfriend.) My brother and his friend Nich did a handshake without practicing and they freaked out, apparently thinking they read each other's minds. They then told me they wanted to do it over and over, 'cause it was the coolest thing ever. I don't know about that, but I know my brother's hyper laugh makes me laugh every time!
So, the other thing I meant to blog about was Paranormal Activity! If you don't want spoilers, then you should just skip this part, 'cause I'm gonna talk about it.
I thought the movie was pretty sweet. I personally have a fixation/obsession/love for all things paranormal. I love watching the shows or hearing stories from folks who have had, or think they've had encounters with some kind of ghost or spirit or something. So this movie was a naturally good choice for me. Dan tricked me and told me that this movie was supposedly made up of real footage. That definitely gave me a better "in" to the movie because, though I was a bit skeptical, I kinda-sorta thought it was real. I guess that's why people compare it to the Blair Witch project. (I haven't seen that one, but I suppose I need to now.)
I loved the voyeuristic aspect of the movie. Some people thought it was kind of slow, but I didn't. I liked it, and every single time they went to the night footage, I was on the edge of my seat, looking all around the room trying to see shadows move or something. I wanted to see things happen.
When things started to get really weird, I was definitely shocked. (ie: the sheet being puffed up over her body, when she'd stand up and stare at the bed for a few hours straight, etc) -- During those parts I was mouthing over and over to myself, "What the fuck! What the fuck!" It was just WEIRD and crazy.
I totally enjoyed the whole movie, except for the ending. (Isn't the ending ALWAYS what we have problems with?) I thought it was totally cheesy, particularly when she looked up into the camera at the end. And her whereabouts are unknown? Lame. I saw the alternate ending on YouTube, and it was a little better, and I felt it fit with the rest of the movie more, but it was also lame. I think they should have extended the last scene out longer with more of an off-camera struggle. I think they could have had something better. They both should have died. Dan said the house should have burned down, but the problem with that idea is that the footage wouldn't have survived.
So! I'm curious to know all y'all's thoughts on it. It's actually one I'd watch again... but I think the thrill would be gone, knowing what all happens. What did YOU guys think of it? Any other scary movies you'd recommend?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
My brother Daniel was a very hyper active child. I mean, seriously hyper active, crazy ADD, wanna climb on everything and get into everything kind of kid. Not so much in the temper tantrum kind of way, but more in the chew on the corner beading kind of way. He'd swing from the curtains and he would get out of his crib during the night. My Dad woke up one night to find that Daniel had crawled out of his crib, gotten out of his room, crawled downstairs, into the kitchen, up onto the counter, opened up the drawers and started playing with the silverware.
That was the last straw. They knew they had to do something.
My parents went to the doctor and asked what to do about Daniel getting out of the crib, after all... a kid still in diapers, though posessing all the energy he did, could still hurt himself. They didn't want him falling out of the crib and knocking his dear little head on the floor or something. The doctor told them to simply put the mattress on the floor, and my brother would be fine. So, into the little window cubby the mattress went, and that's how it had to go to keep Daniel's face as cute as ever, and not smooshed on the ground after a fall. With that, they also had to put a lock on the door so he couldn't get out and into things while they were sleeping.
One morning, my lovely mother went upstairs in the old house to get Daniel up. She opened the door and noticed that the walls looked different. There was some kind of weird pattern or design all over the walls by the mattress. Now, there definitely hadn't been a room decorater invited overnight. She thought "Crayons?" But there were no play-things in the room - all the toys were kept downstairs. She crept closer and noticed that Daniel wasn't wearing his diaper.
On the walls.
My brother, apparently, had a very, very artistic brain. No crayons? Poop will do! (paint, paint paint.)
My Mother called my Dad up to the room to check out the talent. My Dad took one look in the room and said, "Well, I have to go to work! Bye!!" (I laugh every time I hear that.) So, my Mother tells me that Daniel had a bath, the room had a bath, then Mom had a bath.
Ultra hilarious. :)
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I just got back from seeing Paranormal Activity. Have any of you seen this already? I want to talk about it with you guys, but I don't want to give anything away for those of you who haven't seen it. If I get lots of comments like, "I saw it! I saw it!" I'll be talking about it soon. It's a talk-about-it kind of movie to me.
Dan and I are going to see Rob Thomas in concert tonight. I am SO excited for the show! I've never seen him (or Matchbox 20) in concert before, but I did see one of his shows on television a few years ago. It looked amazing. Concerts are one of my very favorite things. The experience I have at a live show is something I treasure.
Next, I want to thank ALL of you for the comments on my last entry. I appreciate all the time you took in sharing your thoughts and points of view. I considered posting another full entry about the subject, but I feel all the span of comments covered just about anything else I might have said. Some of you feel much more strongly about the subject than I do, some of you are completely on the opposite side from me, and some of you are in between. I got one comment from a reader who seemed to get precisely what I tried to say, so I'm going to share it with you all here, and hope from this you realize that my blog did not come from a place of disgust or my despising anyone.
I'm new to your blog, and this is the first post I've read thus far (I will be reading more). My mom is one of the ladies you saw in the airport. She's not at the wheel-me-through-the-airport stage and doesn't use the grocery store thingies, but she could be there any time. She is a very heavy woman and suffers from knee pain. It started with a fall that injured one of her knees. It was painful, she catered to it, slowed down and became more and more sedentary (she wasn't that active to start with) and things got worse- she gained weight, hurt more, became depressed, more sedentary... You see where this is going. This summer her 90 yr old mother got out of the car & into the grocery store before she did - with a walker. Wake up call.
As you swore, I swear I will not be like that either, though I struggle with weight & depression. And I'm not going to let her keep spiraling. My mom's been there for me through thick & thin, and now it's my turn to rescue her. How will I do this, you ask? Why, it's simple- I'll make her think SHE is helping ME. She's an angel who will help anyone in need, it'll totally work.
Anyway, on behalf of my mom, I'm not at all offended by your post. I want her life to be richer, better, healthier. I want her to walk with me, with her grandchildren, with her grouchy old dog.
It's why I love the blogging world. The sharing of information, ideas, thoughts and feelings is prevalent. I also took everything you all said into my heart and will look at it. I am open to looking at who I am (I've mentioned blogging is like free therapy, and I'm serious about that.) I can't think of a better way to improve upon myself than to put myself out there for you all to see, totally honestly, and for you to all act as a giant mirror, showing me what you see. I appreciate all your feedback, and I welcome it at any time. I'm happy I can be OUT there and honest with you guys, and I promise I will try to never stop being as honest as possible.
In other news, Denver is supposed to get a big buncha snow tonight after midnight. 6-10 inches for the metro area! Those folks in the mountains are looking at a forecast of 10-20 inches. Holy crap! I'll definitely be sharing some pictures with you guys tomorrow. <3
1. I got a comment today from Quillaume202 telling me about this blog post he wrote about me. I love it so much, I'm bookmarking it.
2. Why is it every time we go on vacation, bed time is instantly three to four hours before our normal bed time? And I'm always still awake, 'cause... hello... I've only been up for twelve hours and I'm not tired yet? Am I impervious to jet lag?
3. I love my job. If I don't say it enough or make it clear, I love, love, love my job. I need to tell you all one day about my OLD job, and why therefore I love my current job so damn much.
Okay. Here's the meat and potatoes, and I don't know if I'm going to piss some of you off with this, but it's coming, so... I'm just gonna throw it out there.
Dan and I flew out to Denver today for our little vacation back home. Well, it's MY home. He's from Milwaukee, but he did live here in Denver with me for a little over three years.
Anyhoo. We were waiting in the security check line to strip down to our basics and get wanded, when we saw the "special" line open up next to us for the Airline Personnel. You know... the Pilot, Co-Pilot, Flight Attendant Steward-folk and such. No biggie, that's a normal thing. Of course they get to cut in line, 'cause they're manning the plane.
Then. Just as Dan was ducking to his right, being super cute, trying his best to avoid the nice, cool airflow from the giant fan in the corner, we saw the "special" line open up again. This time it was some very nice, smiley ladies who worked for the airport. There were two of them, each pushing a woman in a wheelchair. One of the women was an old lady. I mean, she had to have been in her 80's, and couldn't get out of the wheelchair at all, even to walk through the metal detector. The other woman being pushed in a wheelchair was a very large middle aged woman. The third person to walk through behind them was a middle-aged guy, also pushing a large middle-aged woman in a wheelchair.
I began to get angry. I was looking at these middle aged large women for any signs of illness that could really cause them to not be able to walk. You know... bandages, casts, slings, whatever. I wanted to see what injuries they had. Show me stitches or something. But no. They didn't show me stitches. They didn't have casts on or any other kind of visible injuries. What they had was fucked up knees or ankles, or whatever. These women were not older than my mother. They were just unhealthy and fat. You guys, I got seriously annoyed. I was so angry at these two women.
Now hold up. I wasn't angry because they were cutting in line. We had precisely three more folks ahead of us, and a bit of waiting after that before boarding. I could care less about the line situation... I'm a fairly patient gal.
I was angry because their lives had amounted to this. Being wheeled around in frickin' wheelchairs because they had let their health dwindle to crapinabag. And some of you might be thinking, or ready to comment "Wait, maybe they had surgery and you just couldn't see the stitches under their shirts" or "maybe blah blah blah." Okay. MAYBE. But, DOUBTFUL.
You've all seen the ladies and fellas wheelin' around the grocery store or the Wal*Mart (shudder) or wherever. You know that all the fat folks not walking from aisle to aisle are not surfing the motorized carts because they are post-op. These folks are doing it because they've let their joints melt down to mashed potatoes and gravy. Their health is shit. They have pain when they walk. Their muscles are disintegrating. Their lives have become seating room only.
I just stood there and watched these women get up, walk through the metal detector, then sit back down in the wheelchairs on the opposite side and go on about their "push me further, Betty" business.
I looked at Dan and said, "Honey. I swear to you. I will never be that. I swear to God, it's never going to happen."
And I swear, I swore true. There's no amount of macaroni and cheese or Ritz crackers in this world to let me miss out on being independent, capable and strong. It's not worth it. I want to be able to run and play with my children, to walk to the park with my grand kids, and foot it through the airport.
I hate going through security, but dammit, I'm glad I can do it on my own two feet.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Click HERE for the images from today's amazing wedding. This is my favorite candid Bridal portrait to date. :)
Also, check out my new favorite blog:
She's witty and posts some really interesting stuff. And a good sense of humor... that's always important! :)
Friday, October 23, 2009
I got a wonderful bunch of comments on my latest blog post about my laziness, lack of work-out motivation, and the fitness journey I've had.
Sasha, the Breakup Coach, left me a great, brain squeezing question. I'd expect nothing less from her brilliant ass, 'cause she's a psychologist. I love this. Blogging is like free therapy.
Here is the comment she left me:
Thanks for another wonderfully honest and thought-provoking post.I also got a whopper of a comment from my buddy Christy in Seattle:
Asking yourself "why can't I get motivated?" is kind of a dead end question guaranteed to make you frustrated. I'm really curious as to what "fitness" actually means to you. It means so many different things to different people. How do you define it for yourself?
I read this post with mixed emotions. You are so beautiful and seem to have a really positive spirit. If you are otherwise healthy (unlike me, who has high blood pressure and scoliosis and a family history of diabetes and near-constant illnesses for two years) then does a little extra weight really matter?
If it's self-discipline that you're craving, great. I'm sure there are many small changes you could make to get a little more active. Being active will benefit your body, your mind, and your spirit in a myriad ways ... but there are so many fun ways to exercise! Sex and dancing are two of my favorites ... with walking and Pilates catching up quickly.
At some point, I think all of us who are on the diet train should ask ourselves -- what are our weight-loss goals? If there are none besides "looking good" or "fitting into cute clothes" is that an adequate motivation truly to change our lives and the way we eat ... forever? Or, will that diet train turn into a rollercoaster, careering out of control, our self-esteem crashing with each little rise in weight?
I'd love to be in a size 6 again. When I started this diet, that was my goal.
Then I wondered ... why?
I mean, what's so great about a size six really? Sure, I loved the shape that I was in as a size 6 ... but even at an 8 and a 10, I kicked butt at cardio. I hiked and roamed just about any old where I wanted. My body was a good body, able to answer the demands I put on it with energy to spare.
Is size six okay, but every thing above it not okay? What about if you or I got into a size 8 or 10 or, yes, even a 12 and maintained it forever? Would we be happy with that (assuming, again, we were otherwise healthy)?
I'm not trying to tell you that you shouldn't lose weight. That's a personal decision that everyone has to make for herself. I'm here to support you in any way I can. Sometimes, though, the best support can come from a reality check.
Be kind to yourself. You've already come a long way on this journey. It's okay that you're not perfect! You'd be pretty freaking dull if you were.
SO, wow! It's clear that THIS should be the blog topic for the day. Let's see if I can answer these questions honestly and concisely. (Ha-ha! Good luck to me.)
What does "Fitness" mean to me?
I hear that word and I think of someone with a low body fat percentage, who can run a mile in 7 minutes. Someone who can lift a good amount of weights. Someone who is flexible, with kick butt muscle tone, who likes to participate in sports. Someone who maybe likes to go rock climbing or skiing or can run a marathon. Triathlon people. And honestly? I've never had any of those goals. Now, actually, that's SORT of a lie, 'cause I wouldn't mind being super flexible, but that's purely for non-working-out reasons. I also wanted to be able to run a 5K.
But here's the thing. I think each time I decide I'm gonna start working out hard core, or I'm going to train for a 5K, or I'm going to start to lift weights, it's false excitement. Or temporary excitement. I watched Tara from The Biggest Loser last season and was SO inspired because of how athletic she was. The clip of her running her ass off on that treadmill with Jillian holding a band around her waist made me so jealous. But I realized yesterday that it's the same kind of jealousy I feel when I watch Diana Krall play the piano, or Chris Angel perform magic, or Cate Blanchett deliver a moving performance in a film. I am the most jealous person on the planet. I would love to have all these talents and abilities. But it doesn't mean I'm going to start taking piano lessons again, studying magic and practicing my slight of hand skills, or sign up for classes at the local theater.
I really think with the working out thing, that's what it comes down to. I'd feel like a badass if I was "fit" like those folks, but I don't have the motivation to work for it.
In general terms, as Christy pointed out, I'm relatively healthy. I can walk up a flight of stairs or jog across the street without feeling winded now. I don't have pain in my knees or ankles because of weight. I don't have diabetes or any other weight related illnesses. I do have pretty decent strength in my legs and arms, and I think a lot of that has to do with being a photographer and lugging/hauling/lifting all my gear. But I am around 32% body fat (I'd guess.) I don't have good flexibility. I couldn't run an entire 5K, in fact I don't think I could run one mile without walking for part of it.
So, in regards to Christy's thoughtful comments... it's just in my head. There's nothing wrong with being a size 12. In fact, there is nothing wrong with being any size, as long as you're happy in that size. For me personally, getting into those size 12 jeans was a huge accomplishment, and I did a freakin' happy dance because of it. But, it's not my goal. Hitting a size 12 is not enough. Why is that? I don't know, exactly. Perhaps it has to do with the ridiculous amount of perfectionism I inherited from my Dad. I know I've been there before, and I NEED to get there again. It's something inside me that will claw and scratch and elbow its way around until it's satiated.
Being smaller makes me feel better about myself. It makes my sex life better. It makes me more likely to go out and be social. I feel better in virtually every facet of my life. And yes, part of it is absolutely about the clothes, I'm not going to lie to you. It's about attention ('cause it should be obvious that I'm an attention whore at this point. Plus I'm a Leo.) I want men, women, people to notice me, and it's not because I need to get a date. It's because it feels really good to be whistled at, looked at with admiration, jealously, whatever. It's so superficial, I know. But it FEELS good to me. It makes me feel like a million bucks. I want the people in my past who overlooked me to go, "Damn!" when they see me next. I want my ex boyfriends to kick themselves when they see me and fantasize about me from then on. (Yes I know, they should know what they lost because of WHO I am, but come on. These are MEN we're talking about here. They'll see my hot ass in a pair of hot jeans and think, "HOT.")
I take full, unabashed ownership of the sad, sad fact that I care absolutely, completely and obsessively about what people think when they look at me.
I think everyone has different motivations. I personally am very motivated by the way my stomach looks in a form fitting dress. Sometimes I don't keep that in my mind when I'm eating Ritz Crackers with cheddar cheese slices (my favorite snack, ever... it is to me what chips and dip are to Monica.)... But I don't know that any motivator actually holds over you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If it does, that's some pretty damn awesome motivation.
It's clear that I've been on the diet rollercoaster for the better half of my adulthood. And some before that too. I need to remember that it's not something I want to go through again, and that it's not healthy either. It's my ultimate goal to get to my desired weight, and maintain. Plus or minus five pounds, that's cool. I just need to remember that I change. My pants stay the same size, and I'd like to stay in them.
And I'd like to end this absurdly long blog post with my horoscope from today:
Friday, Oct 23rd, 2009 -- There is a wide gulf between how you feel now and what you are willing to do. In fact, your actions may say one thing while common sense says something else. Nevertheless, your emotions might prevail today in a skirmish between your head and your heart. Remember, logic can be used to answer a question, but not to share what's in your heart.
Before we get into it today, I want to thank you all for the comments on my TMI post. I'm glad to know that I am not the only person to have horfed their cookies in front of a hot person. On that note, MANY of you asked about "Guy" and whatever happened to him. ...Well, I can't go into too many details, but he did NOT go home that night. From that point on we had a really tumultuous, up and down, wild crazy roller coaster of a passionate love/hate/connect/fight relationship. The romance ended, and he is currently one of my close friends. :)
SO! Today I want to talk about laziness. And I'm going to be totally honest and say, I'm full of laziness. FULL of laziness. Now, I'm not full of laziness all the time. I mean, I work my arse off when it comes to my photography, my business, and this blog. But when it comes to other things like cleaning the house or working out, I suck lazy balls.
I hate working out. Hate, hate, hate it. Just 'cause it means I have to get off of my comfy couch, pry my face away from the computer (I love it so much. I would marry my computer if I could. It's awesome, the internet is my home, I am obsessed.) and go outside where it's too hot, too cold, too windy, or too perfect to ruin by working out.
I've gone through lots of bouts of working out. Let's take a closer look, shall we?
Pre birth: I was a natural swimmer and water acrobat. I was so good I didn't even need to breathe through my mouth or nose. I magically had all the oxygen I needed. I LIVED in the water.
Baby aged: Embraced baby fat. Ate really healthy. Preoccupied with oranges, and didn't like any other Christmas presents. Seriously. I got a ton of gifts and my favorite thing was that orange. PS, isn't my mom WILD gorgeous?
Toddlerhood: I rocked the jungle-gym and the bouncy balls. No problem whatsoever with lifting up my skirt to show off my kick ass toddlertights.
Elementary school: I played soccer with my brother and the neighbor. I rode my bike a lot. I jumped from couch to cushion to couch to avoid the hot lava floor in my parents house. I hula hooped and jump roped in gym class twice a week. Regularly posed for pictures with family members and worked my core by flipping upside down and making crazy faces.
Junior high: Before I hit junior high, I was still slim and rockin' the 80's attempt, complete with my ring-necklace and my brother jammin on the keytar. Once I started junior high, I didn't do much but get picked on relentlessly, and try to avoid gym class. I got chubby and entered my greasy stage. Didn't wash my hair enough, had no idea how to do makeup, and grew addicted to my black and orange garfield shirt.
High school: I took on the deepest level of fitness craze I've ever been a part of. I worked out two hours a day, five days a week, AND played tennis after school/on the weekends. I also was in show choir, so I danced for a good 20-30 minutes every day we had rehearsal on stage. I slimmed way down to a size six and could eat cheetos.
College: I quit working out. I wasn't in show choir anymore. I studied. I wrote a lot. I learned how to take pretty pictures. I ate too much cake, face first. Got a gym membership at my Mother's suggestion at a ladies only gym. Hated going there, too.
Post-college, late teens/20-21 years old: I slowly got fatter and fatter. My only exercise at this point was walking back and forth from my office to the cookie jar in the other office. I then was dumped via phone, thought it was due to the weight, dieted my way down to a size 8. No exercise was involved.
I apparently also didn't know the meaning of the words "root touchup."
During the hotness (around 22 years old): I was hot and skinny. My only exercise was touring apartments during the week, and on the weekends... copius amounts of vigorous sex.
After the hotness, post-24: Gym membership costs me $80 a month. I hired a personal trainer. She didn't focus on cardio at all, had me lift lotsa weights. I stopped my sessions after six weeks. I then started Zumba, which is really fun, and I can burn lots of calories in an hour. Then I tried Gravity classes. Then I got into running for a few months. I got shin splints. I stopped running.
Now: I've been so damn lazy. I still do Zumba once a week. ONCE a week. Those are the only times I go to the gym. That means I'm basically taking $20 in and handing it to the people at the door for ONE class each week. That's ridiculous. I either need to drop my membership or start using the gym. It's a colossal waste of money.
I bought a jump rope, and was all excited about the idea of using it. I haven't used it, and it's too long for me. I was looking for my high school yearbook the other night, and guess what I found? Another freakin' jump rope. It's almost identical to the one I just bought, and it's also too long for me. Apparently instead of adjusting it down to the right size, I just didn't use it. That is the perfect and clear illustration of how lazy I am.
Why, WHY can't I just get motivated? I'll be really lazy, then think "Well they can do it on the Biggest Loser, blah blah blah" and it SOMETIMES gets me off my arse and into the car to go to the gym. Sometimes that still doesn't even work.
I think it's because I'd be okay with being skinny fat, and "fitness" isn't exactly a priority for me. I lost all that weight and achieved my "goal" of being in a size 8, and that was fine. I did it without exercise, and whoopdeedoo, I thought that made me lucky. MizFit would slap my ever loving face if she knew me in person. Then she'd push my flabby butt onto a treadmill and whip me with a riding crop.
Oh yeah. And I ate toast tonight. And hash browns. And crackers this afternoon. And crackers and a sandwich yesterday afternoon. CLEARLY didn't follow my diet today or yesterday.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Okay. I'm gonna preface this with a little backstory on my goody-two-shoes lameness. I never drank when I was in high school. I was raised in a pretty conservative household and I was never at any "cool" parties or bondage soirees or dog fights. In fact, by the time I hit my sophomore year in college, I hadn't had more to drink than one wine cooler, for which my parents pulled me out of the musical my Junior year in high school. SO, needless to say I was a drinking virgin, to the max.
After I moved out I was reunited with some high school friends I hadn't seen in the three years since graduation. One of whom is gorgeous. I mean, seriously, ridiculously, wannastabmyselfintheface gorgeous. I had a huge crush on this guy in high school, and being the super delux nerd I was, I never had a chance with the guy. In fact, today we'll call him "Guy." 'Cause, well, he's a Guy and I'm protecting his embarassed identity for having anything to do with me.
So. I ended up at a party with him, and my alcoholic friend... Fred. Fred was wearing a welding helmet and swigging Smirnoff, and I had no idea what it tasted like, or why these people had two old doors set up on some step ladders with a bunch of cups lined up like bowling pins. I wasn't kidding, I was in totally new drinkin' territory. So, I was standing there with Guy, looking at his face and thinking about how I wanted to lick it off, and how I needed to say something so he didn't excuse himself to something more exciting, like picking the lint between his toenails in the bathroom. I asked him the most exhilirating thing I could come up with. "Do you guys party like this all the time?" (Brilliant, Jenn.) He said to me, "Yep, it's basically what we do." Then after a gorgeous pause, said, "You're way too much of a good girl."
Of course, being half retarded, I had no idea what to say, so I just asked him, "What do you mean?" He said, "Well, we just need to get you comfortable with drinking mid-week. Like, what would you do if I came to your house Wednesday with a bottle of whiskey?" I said, "We'd drink it." (I felt so cool at this point, you have no idea.)
So, Guy came to my house the next week with Seven and Seven and "Once Upon a Time in Mexico." I was freakin' thrilled, ya'll.
Guy. Me. Alone. Ohholyjesus.
Now, I should tell you people that I have never seen this movie. I mean, even today, never seen it. I don't know what it's about, really. I know there's some sand in it, and maybe some cowboy boots, and a hot chick somewhere. And a guitar maybe? See, I was splitting my time fairly evenly between staring at Guy's face, dreaming about his hands all over me, tugging at my shirt all nervous like, and pretending to know how to drink.
We drank shot after shot of whiskey, and I felt like the badass of badasses. Even more basasslike, of course, as I pounded back those sweet, nasty, delicious little thimblefuls of liquid pain. I was sexy and invincible, and it was awesome. But, as each shot went down my gullet-hatch, things got fuzzier, and dreamier, and queasier.
So, Guy decided that the four, five, eight, whatever number of shots we'd each taken, weren't enough. Nope. We needed to play drinking chess. (Obviously, 'cause it's way more classy than drinking checkers.) So, he was over on my floor setting this up and I, of course, got off the couch and walked over there to help him. Oh. Wait. No, I didn't. I didn't even really see him setting up the chess board, 'cause my legs didn't work. I tried to get up, but instead was sliding off the couch, onto the floor.
Guy was apparently oblivious to the prepukesdrool rolling down my chin, 'cause if he wasn't oblivious, he would have been terrified, and not nearly as excited to exclaim, "Let's play!" ...So, at this point, I was on all fours, crawling like a hallucinating crabwoman through the living room, trying really hard not to fall over before I got to the bathroom. But, I had no idea where the bathroom was. My place was all of 800 square feet, so it shouldn't have been difficult, but I had no clue what was going on except "Must. Find. Toilet." I don't exactly remember what I said, but it was probably something really close to, "Don't... feel... good," and then, I ralphed all over the carpet. Yep. Gorgeous Guy. My house. One chance to make him think I was the sexiest, coolest thing... and I puked all up on the floor.
The best part is, that apparently the first puke wasn't the only puke I needed. I just kept on crawling toward the bathroom, closed the door once I got inside and kept puking in the toilet. I came back out, pretty sure to find Guy had gone Bye-Bye. Instead? He was cleaning up my puke.
Too gorgeous, sexy as hell, Mariah Carey song style Dream Lover, Guy, cleaned up my whiskey puke.
I wanted to die.
And I've never been able to even come close to whiskey again after that.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
I might be super lame, but I saw this on my friend Amy's blog (Just A Titch) and I love it. Plus my brain isn't working for an interesting post today, and so I'm doing it. :)
Current Books: I'm currently about halfway through You Belong to Me by Mary Higgins Clark. It's quite interesting. I didn't go out and buy this book... I was at Starbucks waiting for a client and saw it sitting in their big basket of books and magazines. It had a sticker on it from www.bookcrossing.com and so I started to read it and took it home. I look forward to returning it to the same Starbucks when I'm done. :)
Current Playlist: I can't stop listening to Sara Bareilles' album, it's wonderful. But recently... OBSESSED with Chris Thile's band Punch Brothers. Their album is really fantastic, and I can't get enough of the fourth movement of Blind Leaving the Blind. The words are amazing, the composition is beyond brilliant, harmonies off the chain, and Chris' voice is just sent from heaven. I missed Music Monday yesterday so I'll give you this clip of my favorite portion of the song:
Current Guilty Pleasure: Driving fifteen minutes out of my way to try to see John Cusack at the Post Office. The last two times he wasn't there, and I felt cheated.
Current Color: Green is my favorite color, but I just end up wearing grey and black. I'm lame and boring.
Current Drink: Diet Coke. And Starbucks Venti coffee with half and half, two splenda and two sweet and lows. I have no idea why I order it that way, but I'm sure the staff has wanted to say, "Why do you do two of each? What freakin' difference or kind of sense does that make?" But... that's just how I do it. I also drink a lot of sugar free cider at night as well as peppermint tea.
Current Food: Can't stop with the roasted chicken noodle soup from Subway. Hello, 80 calories for the bowl and it's delicious on a cold Milwaukee day!
Current Favorite Show: Biggest Loser (check out Fat Bridesmaid's liveblog Tuesday nights if you like the show and want someone to talk to about it while it's airing.) Also I youtube the X Factor a lot. Oh, and DEXTER. (I'm considering adding him to my top five, he turns me on so much. Yes I'm a freak.)
Current Wishlist: To steadily drop three pounds a week until I hit 140. That's 44 pounds to go, and if I lost 3 pounds a week until then, it'd take just under 15 weeks, or until January 19th. If I lose 2 pounds a week, that means it'll take 22 weeks, until March 9th. To book at least ten more 2010 weddings before the end of this year. To subsequently buy another D700 and the 70-200mm 2.8 VR II. For the meds the vet prescribed to continue to work on my cat as they appear to be working (finally) - he's slept on the bed with us four nights running and no accidents. Also, I got this great new kitty litter (It's actually sawdust stuff, and it's amazing) so I think that's helping a great deal.
Current Needs: All my needs are met. That feels wonderful to say.
Current Triumphs: Fitting into size Medium anything.
Current Bane Of My Existence: Dishes. I am so sick of them, and it's NEVER ENDING.
Current Celebrity Crush: That would be, as previously mentioned, Michael C. Hall. I have an incurable thing for pale guys with reddish hair, (obvi.) This is of course not to supercede John Mayer or Chris Thile, 'cause I don't know if either of them will ever make it out of my top five. OH! And I slip into sweet, eye rolling, orgasmic bliss every time I hear David Cook belt it out (you don't know how bad it feeeeels) ((I wanna die, it's so hot.)) I play this song over and over in the car, and considering the fact that driving is considered operating heavy machinery... that might not be the safest idea. Oh, and it should be obvious I love live, acoustic performances.
Current Indulgence: Umm, my whole life is an indulgence, I'm spoiled rotten.
Current Blessing: Wonderful clients. Sleeping in. Money to live. My blogging community. Freedom, fall weather, constant inspiration, cheap clothes, chapstick. And my boyfriend has been amazing lately... super affectionate, bringing me flowers, footrubs, etc. (I'll stop now so you guys don't puke.)
Current Slang: I don't really think I have one, but I would love to be able to incorporate "Totes McGotes" into my conversations more. It's hilarious and awful.
Current Outfit: Size 14 jeans (not for long!) with a black cardigan. That's my life, and it doesn't usually get cuter than that despite all the cute clothes in my closet. I have lots of dressier / work style clothes, but I feel weird wearing them because I don't have a regular desk/office type job anymore. I'd be really overdressed to go to the grocery store.
Current Excitement: Biggest Loser tonight!
Current Mood: I really need to go to the bathroom. Oh wait, that's not a mood, is it? Well then... anxious in that I'm entertaining the thought of participating in NaNoWriMo... too bad it has to be fiction is all I'm saying. And too bad it has to be starting something new from scratch. I'm 8 chapters into my memoir. Maybe I just continue what I've already started (finally) and call it FiWriYoShiJe. Or I could just change it all and pretend it's not all about me. That might help to conceal the identities of guilty parties...
Monday, October 19, 2009
I have gotten a few comments and some e-mails from you guys about how difficult it can be to shop for clothes when you're on a weight loss journey. We already know how women's sizes can be a bitch to figure out, but this is about dollars. When you're dropping sizes over the course of months, it's kind of overwhelming to think about the money you could spend on new clothes. None of us want to look like homeless people or bag ladies because our clothes are so baggy. None of us want to bend over to pick up a penny and have our ass cracks show themselves to the world because our pants are so big. We also don't want to drop hundreds of dollars on clothes because we're getting thinner. So, what to do?
I'm going to share with you my biggest clothes shopping secrets.
First of all, you need to discover Old Navy and Target. But Old Navy more than Target. Old Navy has really affordable and CUTE clothes. Plus, their clearance section is amazing and you can pick up a wide range of styles. Target is also great (we already know this.)
But, even better than those two places is... the Thrift Store. Now, you might be thinking "Eew, really?" Or, "No way." But I'm telling you guys, it's the BEST way to find clothes for your transition weight. If you don't know where a good thrift store is, ask friends, or ask some locals around town. There is most likely one, two, or more kick ass, clean thrift stores to go to.
Thrift stores also have TONS of variety. What I picked up today, I found in about 15 minutes of searching through the racks. I could have spent a few hours there. And there are tons of sizes. Granted, if you wear a 24 it might be somewhat harder than my wearing a 12/14, but I saw all sizes up to 28, xxl's and down to small/petites, 00. If you think about why people get rid of their clothes, weight loss is one of those reasons. So, the folks before you lost weight, donated their clothes so they could buy new ones. You can do the same thing! Also, if you find a thrift store in a nicer area, you're more likely to find brand name/designer clothes.
To illustrate my point, I have some pictures for you guys. (of course!) :) I'm also going to show you what each piece cost me, compared to the average price for one of these pieces, new.
Green The Limited, size L: $2.99 (retail $50)
Grey White Stag, size 16/18: $2.39 (retail $15) (big on me but so soft and comf I had to buy it.)
Tan Banana Republic, size M: $2.99 (retail $69)
Grey GAP fleece vest, size M: $2.39 (retail $45)
Blue Liz Claiborne, size L: $2.39 (retail $30)
Cream Ann Taylor Loft, size cut out: $2.39 (retail $16)
Jean Tommy Hilfiger, size 14: $2.39 (retail $75)
Brown Simply Vera Wang, size M: $2.39 (retail $58)
Brown plaid off brand from Russia, size 10: $2.39 (I didn't buy this one.)
Black Briggs shell dress, size 12: $2.39 (retail $40) (a little tight but will be perfect in about 10 pounds)
Black New York and Company, size 14: $2.39 (retail $30) (I didn't buy this one)
Maroon Harve' Benard, size 12: $2.39 (retail $25)
Brown Ann Taylor Loft, size 12: $2.39 (retail $70)
Black New York and Company, size 12: $2.39 (retail $50)
So! I got:
- 2 pairs pants
- 1 skirt
- 2 casual dresses
- 1 work dress
- 3 sweaters
- 1 fleece vest
- 2 sleeveless tops
Convinced yet? You should be. :)
Also, rehashclothes.com is a really cool website where you can trade clothes for free. And don't forget about the Bloggerhood of the Traveling Not So Fat Pants! :)
Sunday, October 18, 2009
So... I wanted to share with you guys two things:
1. I had a piece of pizza yesterday. I'm pissed at myself, 'cause I'd already eaten a lot with the wedding and all.
2. I did a really fun engagement session in Madison, WI today! Click HERE for the photos. :)
I will be back tomorrow with a longer, cooler, more nifty blog post.
Also! I got up Whitney and Nathan's part II to their engagement session, this time at the bowling alley! Click HERE for all those photos! :)
Friday, October 16, 2009
With that, here's a picture of me with my latest obsession. My wrist warmer glove thinggies. I type with them on, I smoke with them on, I eat with them on. Dan now refers to me as his homeless girlfriend.
PS... Target. $6.99.
Okay, well I'm off to try to go to bed. It's 1:41am and I am supposed to be up at 8am to meet a Bride and her Bridesmaids at the salon for some getting ready photos!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Okay. You guys, I've been waiting for something totally humiliating to happen to me, and I just don't have that kind of luck. What did I do this week? I weighed myself a lot, I ate some salad, I carved a pumpkin and I tried on some clothes. That's about it. Unless searching my house high and low for a tampon qualifies as TMI material, I need to reach into the archives and tell you something embarrassing from my past. And I'm not even really that embarrassed about it. I think the problem with TMI, for me, is that it takes a LOT to embarrass me. A lot. I mean, I whole lot.
With that, here we go.
I used to pee my pants on a weekly basis when I was in fourth grade. And now that I just typed that, I realize that some folks I used to go to elementary school with might read my blog (lovely Facebook) - so, this should be interesting.
I'm not talking about wetting the bed or peeing my pants because I just couldn't hold it anymore, teacher!... Nope. I peed myself because of my deep love and dedication to laughter and the fine art of comedy.
Okay. So, at my elementary school we had this thing on the playground called "The Rainbow." It looked just like the biggest one of these:
So, I used to climb up on that thing with two other kids and we used to just sit up there during recess and laugh, laugh, laugh, tell jokes, and laugh. I am not sure what the jokes were, but I'm pretty sure they revolved around pooping, and pee, and so it was only fitting that I peed myself while laughing about pee. You know those letter jokes where you say, "Spell 'eye cup." and the person concentrates and says, "I see you pee!" Apparently that was the crux of elementary humor, y'all. I laughed so hard every day we did that, that I pissed my pants. When recess was over, I'd begin the slow, wet walk back to my classroom, and I'd angle my butt toward the wall so the huge wet spot wouldn't show.
Luckily, I only pee myself nowadays in very small amounts, and it's few and far between. I never peed my pants in a public place as an adult, but a teeny bit would come out if I was laughing way too hard, or sometimes when I let out a wicked sneeze.
But I'm telling you, I just don't know how my Mom did all that laundry and didn't notice the pee smell, or if she noticed it and was just like, "There's no way I'm even going there, 'cause my daughter is WAY too old to be peeing her pants... I don't have the energy for this." I have no idea. But I know that smell. Damp, pee-pee-pants, kid smell. And that was me. And I am gross.
And on another note, I have been getting my face rocked off by all these blog awards from you guys. Thank you!!
Ashleigh gave me this friends award:
My lovely Sandra gave me the Superior Scribbler Award:
And Jeniel gave me this best blog award:
So holy crap balls, thanks you guys!
What I'd like to do instead of passing the awards around and telling people to tell us 30 things about themselves and write 30 other bloggers down... (if I followed all the rules of all these blog awards, it'd be a long, long day...) is I'm just gonna share some link love, and hopefully you'll find another blog to love. :)
Swish Embassy for those of you who support the LGBT community or like looking at hot guys.
The Life and Times of the Other Woman for cheaters, cheatees and cheatinteresteds.
Welcome to the Hicks Mix for some genuine good and funny reads by miss Marilee.
Casual Blasphemes if you wanna hear some fat acceptance from a wicked brilliant writer.
FaintStarLite if you like watching vlogs done by a super cute WW mom.
Bitch Cakes. Once again, you need to know nothing other than the name, go now.
Instatiable Host, if you want someone down to earth and supportive as hell.
I could go on all day of course. Check out lots of the great blogs in my sidebar. You already know you need to be following Sue and Monica, right? Mkay, just checking.
Oh, and you know how I looked for a hula hoop with no success? (Check out this entry by my friend Beth, with instructions on how to make your own hula hoop!)
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
I figured it out and I've actually lost 18% of my body weight!
And since y'all keep telling me you love the photos, here's a quick recap of the before and current.
220 pounds, headless fattie photo, May 31st, 2008
May 2009, one year later, only TEN pounds down from that! Boy was I slacking, and part of my body is still even cut off in this photo. UGH!:
So, I'm all celebratory today about getting into the size 12 jeans you see there, and it reminded me about back when I bought those jeans, and how fully pissed off I was. I was on a trip to New York with my best friends Wes and Jesse. I thought I'd dig up the journal entry I made back then, the last time I fit into these jeans, March 2nd, 2006:
I bought a new pair of jeans and found myself severely angered to be purchasing a size 12. 12! 12! 12! My self-worth took a serious nose-dive today. Now introducing the theme of today's blog self-consciousness! Overweight, bloated, bad skin, stretch marks, pimples, bad hair, tight clothing... none of which anyone other than myself really notices or thinks is significant. The only thing I keep hearing in my head is that line from Beauty and the Beast, "....fat and lazy, you walked in and oopsie daisy!"
Even after all the compliments I've received this week thus far from the gay boys, ("Girl, you are SO New York. This is YOUR town. You are IT.")... I feel worse about my "image" than I have in quite some time. Maybe it's feeling sick, as I always do when or after travelling. I can't count how many supplements I have taken so far on this trip. I have been eating very poorly. (Street-side vendors! Italian Deli's! Free breakfast and dinner buffets at the hotel!) It's a good thing I'm not going to pursue being a rock star. I'd go insane and end up front page headlining in an untimely death most likely involving a screwdriver and a screwdriver.
When it comes to weight loss, I'm like a little girl that keeps asking, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" Enough so that my body tells me "I will TURN this car right back around to the buffet." And I do.
Isn't it funny how perception changes?
Oh, and before I go, the lovely Sarah gave me a blog award today:
And I suck, but I'm doing a somewhat quickie blog post and I don't have time to nominate a bunch of people for this one here. I've become a slacker, rule breaker, non blog award passeronner. :( But! I'll say I love Sarah because she's sweet, and because she met her husband on the internet, and that's how Dan and I met. ;)
Alrighty. I'm off to Target to buy a hula hoop. Actually, I'm buying two hula hoops. Be prepared for the awesomeness of awesomeness after the hula hoops are purchased and I figure out a way to video record some awesomeness outside. Awesome.