Sweet Freedom - Part Two - ReeeeeeeMixxxxxx

Here's a little quiz for you all:

1- What would it be like to never diet again?  (oh, stop the nonsense!)

2 - Can you imagine not caring how many calories you ate or how many steps you walked or what an actual serving size of everything is?   (of course not....I need numbers!  I need stats!  I'm changing my body, dammit!)

3 - Where would you spend the money you save if you stopped buying prepared food, diet supplements, weight loss programs, exercise or diet apps?  (hmmmmm.....I'm not even sure how much I spend....)

Oh, here's a gooder.....

4 - How would it feel to look in the mirror and be pleased with what you saw after doing everything above?

Wait.... WHAT?  Who would ever believe such malarky is even possible????!

Well, there's ME, for starters.  And thousands of other women are getting on the band wagon, too.  

I almost forgot to ask.....

Do you consider yourself a slave to the diet culture?  Here's the second part to the quiz to help you figure that out:

5 - If you are doing a weight loss program today and "are bad and eat off program", do you tell yourself that you might as well finish out the day eating whatever you want, and you can "start fresh tomorrow"?  (The day is ruined already, so why not stuff my face with forbidden food as I wallow in it.)

6 - Do you think if you aren't watching every calorie you eat, every carb you ingest and how many steps you walk each day, that you'll surely gain tons of weight?  (Losing control is exactly how I got myself into this situation!  I won't make that mistake again!)

7 - Does the sound of "loving how my body looks right now" equate to the thought, 'If I accept how I look now, I'll never get healthy/thinner/better?" (I'll be happy with my body when I'm thinner.  Until then, self love is off the table!)

8 - Are YOU the person you blame when you lose weight and then stop dieting and gain it all back?  (Well, who ELSE would I blame??)

So, how many times did the words in italics make you say, "That's exactly right"?

They are all normal reactions among those involved in the diet culture in some way.  It's okay!  Every year, 45 million other humans on this planet spend $33 billion on the quest for weight loss too!  I was one of them for over two decades. 

And the thought of even entertaining the answers to the first four questions would have felt like a ridiculous waste of time during that part of my life.  I would have considered those concepts to be total nonsense......pish posh!!  Those are pipe dreams, right?  (or ARE they?? 🤔)

The second set of questions actually gives me anxiety..... both now and during the previous twenty years.  In my head I hear 'Self Control!  Failure!  Self Control!  Failure!'  as answers to all of them.  I can't believe I lived so long with such a negative attitude.

True story!

This year, 2018, has been a year of introspection; and not necessarily because I planned it that way!  I never could have imagined that breaking my wrist in February would force me down this path of self discovery and transformation.  There was a whole part of my "Vicness" that was very silent and trying to stay unnoticed because it didn't want to change.

HOW DOES SOMEONE HAVE AN EATING DISORDER FOR 20 YEARS AND NOT KNOW IT???   For me, this happened because it was a side effect of getting totally sucked into the lifestyle of dieting!!!  I still weigh the same and along the way, I acquired Binge Eating Disorder.  

Good times.

This May, I completed Lydia Wente's Beat The Binge.  Step one for me was to identify and treat my eating disorder.  I knew in my gut that the program would help me find answers for wellness and recovery, but I never imagined that the program would be the kick-off for even another level of self discovery.  

Beginning June 4th, I will be doing a program to help me find a BIG OLE YES for the answer to Question 4 above.  And after that, I have MORE to do!  It's so exciting!  

While part of me can NOT imagine saying, "I think I look awesome just as I am!" at this point of my life, I remind myself that in February, I couldn't imagine NOT eating 2 pounds of Reeces Miniature Peanut Butter Cups, one or two sleeves of graham crackers, 1/2 a box of Lil Bites and a 3-serving bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats to top it off..... IN ONE SITTING..... QUITE FREQUENTLY!!!!!  I won't even get into the damage done at Dunkin Donuts or with Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream.

So, if I can get past THAT, I can do ANYTHING!

Join me in Summer Innanen's Body Image Remix 21 Day Program beginning June 2018.  Learn how to love yourself outside of the diet culture, just as you are.  It IS possible.

There's no food or equipment to buy!  And you get her book for free!  I read the book.....it's awesome!

Summer has a number of recurring programs, as she is a body image, self-confidence, body positivity and self-image coach.....a total powerhouse in the body positivity movement!  And who doesn't need one of those???

Many blessings,
Vicki
xoxox

Lol....makes me giggle every time!

Biological Bruhaha and Things Like That There

Wait until you see the thumbnail photo that goes with my blog video this time.   Oh my frickin' gawd.

Go ahead.  Take a minute to scroll down and have a gander.  It's effin' atrocious.  😠

I'm going to make it my mission to find out how to change those damn things.  I can't get over how YouTube manages to find the most hideous facial expression in each video and then says, "Yes.  Yes, this is the one.  This one represents the theme of the video most accurately."  Then there's a pause, followed by the loudest "MUA-HA-HA-HA-HA" ever.

Bastages.  (I'm shaking my fist at them)

Anywho!  I crammed a lot of babble into today's video.  I'll be honest .....it took multiple takes for me to get this done in under 12 minutes.

For those of you who wondered exactly how long it would take me to figure this piece of information  out:

I am now fully aware that I ramble on occasion ....often.  I am sorry.  I am especially sympathetic to my mother, who has to listen to me babble like this daily.  She doesn't get to escape the wrath of my rambles like the rest of you do.

I love you, mama!  😘

With that being said, I made a bit of a boo-boo yesterday, but I managed to turn it into a learning lesson.  A "teachable moment", if you will.  After my confession, I analyzed the bejeezus out of my behavior and came up with this:

LOOK AT THIS PREVIEW THUMBNAIL PHOTO!!!

I swear to God, someone who works at YouTube hates me.

For those of you who made it past minute 10, I am very sincere about my gratitude.  Thank you so much for keeping me on track.  I'd be grateful if I had only one person who is tolerating my jibber-jabber right now.... even if that one person is just sitting there waiting for me to screw up!  😏  Motivation is motivation, no matter how ya' get it.  Fortunately, Im far more blessed than that and I appreciate each one of you!!!

And to wrap this all up, I'm just going to include some entertaining memes.  Why?  Because I'm hoping that if a photo pops up when I post this video, IT'S NOT THE ONE FROM YOUTUBE!  Sweet Jesus!

Love to you all!  xoxoxox

Tee! Hee!  How many of us have envisioned this....?

It's true!  I'm like Joey from FRIENDS.... I just wanna put my fat pants on and eat!

AMEN!  The sweater situation is spot on!

This would be my husband.  I can actually see this becoming a reality some day.

I'm sure everyone else but me already knew this.

Pasta, Beans and the Pre-Frontal Cortex

Today was a big day for learnin'.  I was feeling ancy and couldn't concentrate on any fictional books in my Audible stash, so I delved into some of health books in my archives.  After a few hours, I was so  excited about the information that had permeated my brain matter (I'm feeling like a smartypants....just humor me) that I decided that I had to share it with you right away.

In my excitement, I got a little tongue-tied a few times, but hopefully I get my points across.  I was all worked up about my new "Pasta Intel".   Take a peek and I'll clarify my point afterward:

I know that I stumbled through the bean info, so just to be a little more clear, let me write it out.  A serving of black beans is usually one cup.  In that cup, you'll get 12 yummy grams of protein and 9 filling grams of fiber.  Whoo hooo!  As a bonus, you get some fancy folate which (stokes) muscle growth, as well as some tasty copper to help strengthen your tendons.  Yowza!  Beans are sounding like a fabulous choice, aren't they?

And I wasn't foolin' when I mentioned that eating four servings of beans or legumes each week will accelerate weight loss.  I feel a big ole batch of extra beany chili in my near future.

So, after the whole pasta and bean excitement died down, I listened to a new book that I found after searching on line for information about will power.  Here's more about that..... and bear with me..... just when you start to worry about whether I had been drinking excessively while recording the following video, I bring it all together and make it simple.  Enjoy! 😉

The 80/20 Rule

I think that fall has officially arrived in New York State today. They claim that it arrived a while ago, but in my head, it's not officially autumn until you are no longer able to wear shorts in public and look like a normal person.  

The color change of the leaves and overcast skies are also an indication of fall....but if I see you in shorts,  I'm judging you.  Shorts should no longer be part of your wardrobe selection in New York, unless you're exercising.

Which brings me to today's babble. The 80/20 rule is one of my favorites.....not to be confused with Van Halen's OU812, although it is also consumption related.

(I know, I know....they all can't be witty little winners.  Sorry 😐 )

Anyway.....I did not inherit the Gym Joy Gene. I feel no rush of happiness when thinking about any exercise facility.  

None. Nada. Zippo. Zero. Zilch!

Clearly, there must be a Gym Joy Gene in my family, because I frequently see pictures on Instagram of my older brother working out, or my little sister in the gym locker room, all jazzed up and ready to go and lift heavy shit.  I look at those photos and feel a mixture of pride and envy; I'm very proud of them for taking such good care of themselves, but damn if I'm not envious of their drive to work out!  (Or even to put on workout clothes.) The only drive I've ever had was the one that put my ass in a car to score myself some donuts!

Fortunately there's that lovely 80/20 Rule that fits right into my own physical activity and exercise regimen.    

Scientific findings after my own heart!

Here's more about that:

(Seriously, where do they get these thumbnails for videos?  It must be a conspiracy of some sort 🤔)

(Note: if you are reading this via email, you won't see a video.  Click on the Blog title toward the top of the email to go directly to the page)

Oh, The Pizza!

I'm on day six of Operation Healthypants and I can't wait until this day is over!  As always, there are ups and downs, because as someone very annoying once said, you wouldn't be able to appreciate the sad times if it weren't for the happy times. That person may have a very valid point, but today it's just a bunch of obnoxious words strung together to amplify how disgruntled I am at the moment.

So here's what happened:

(Note: if you're reading this blog via email, you may not see the video.  Please click on the following link Day 6 Video

Sweet Talk

This whole Vlog thing is definitely much more convenient, but just as equally strange. I'm far more comfortable sitting at a keyboard, typing the words as they come flying into my head.  And at a home office, you can sit there in your jammies, sporting a bed head coiffure, with a charcoal mask on your face and no one has any idea that you look like a disaster.   You just have to SOUND like you've got your shit together.

Most of my day is spent alone, so I do a lot of thinking.  (I also do a lot of very bad singing along with the radio, but I promise to spare you from that hellacious experience). 

Sometimes I'm mulling over the direction I can take the characters in my book (Yup... I'm STILL writing.). On a good day, ideas are flying in and out of my head... and they are literally flying, because it never fails that by the time I pull over to write them down, they're long gone.

In the midst of all of that, I think about things going on in my life or in the world around me. If I had a dollar for every time that I said, " this would make an excellent subject for a blog post!", you and I would be sitting somewhere having a fabulous lunch at an expensive restaurant.

Alas, you are over there, reading these ramblings, and I am over here, trying to get this out of my head and in writing.  Next time, less writing and more convenient video.

So, without further ado, I present to you today's babble about my arch nemesis .... sugar. 

Ps.  Proof that my child doesn't just eat crap in case you decided that I'm a bad mother after hearing about what's  in my garage:

Goodbye Stranger

I started this blog a bunch of years ago  when my daughter was a wee toddler and I was trying to find a way to cope with being a working mom with a handicapped husband.    

The main issue at that time was that I felt as though my daughter had bonded with my husband far more than she had bonded with me. Of course this is to be expected, considering that he spent every day with her, as he was unable to leave our home due to his medical condition.  In turn, that meant that I was working every day and wasn't at home as much as we ALL would've liked.

I'm pleased to say that things have changed since then. With lots of work, communication, debating, arguing, hurt feelings, guilt, rejection, and forgiveness we have managed to find a situation where we all are happy together and everybody feels loved and supported (most of the time....no one is perfect!)  I'd sum up that time period as "a pretty rough start to 
what has potential to finish as a success story".  Yay for us!

Recent milestones outside of my little wolf pack have triggered some new issues that I need to deal with. It seems like the issues never end, doesn't it?   I think that's the whole thing about life. We just keep plugging along looking for answers, and try to be grateful that we have questions that keep popping up. I think once you stop having issues, there's not a whole lot of breathing or bodily functions going on at that point (a/k/a you're dead).

Moving on, now I need to start taking care of my heath and this is the new general-issue that I'm tackling. I keep thinking that I wish I have appreciated youth and good health more.  I took all of those easy years for granted!

Some of you may know that 2017 started off with a big old rough patch for me. From January through early May, I had all sorts of crazy symptoms, saw almost every kind of doctor (Im still avoiding the proctologist!  45 years and counting.....Score!), and ended up with absolutely no answers.  It was a pretty scary time for me. 

Worse yet, I'd become so desperate for ANY diagnosis, that every single doctor who told me they didn't know what was wrong with me got to witness 'Vicki In Tears'.  And I'm not a pretty crier, just in case you were wondering.  One physician stared at me in horror. 

Surprisingly, I also became desperate to hear anything in regards to what was going on with me. And I mean anything. I would go to appointments to obtain test results, and tell myself that I would be happy even if they diagnosed me with cancer, because it least it would be an answer and I could treat something.  I just wanted a chance of being me again.

As I mentioned, I never got any answers. Lots of treatments and medications and recommendations, but no answers. The one thing that I did have was a friend who knew exactly what I was going through.  That in itself was priceless.   

Wendy IS priceless.  And a warrior.  And wise.  And she didn't leave me alone when I needed someone to keep heaving my ass up and push me along my path.  (This'll freak her out....) She was like my own little mortal Jesus, carrying me when I was too pathetic to walk thru life. Lol!

"I worry when you get quiet.  Send proof of life."  Those words let me know that I couldn't just shut down and hide with my family.  I had someone to answer to.

Then there was guilt.  Guilt because while I was so happy to have someone who understood, I also love her greatly and wanted her to find answers to HER issue and relief of her own. She is still searching for that. She was my rock..... and she still suffers while I am feeling better.  

I'm sure you're wondering what my point is here, aren't you?

My point is twofold.

Number one, I'm so grateful for Wendy. She taught me many things, but one of the largest lessons is my number two.  (Meaning, my second point... not my poop)

Number two, nobody likes to go through crap alone. And there are a lot of us struggling with so many different trials and tribulations and dramas and traumas.  We should try to come together and support each other, especially when you find somebody desperately trying to cope with an issue similar to yours.

(Side note:  Dont sink...SWIM!  It's essential to find someone who will float with you, not drag you down.  If you feel like you're drowning with them, BAIL!)

So, I'm putting my shit out there. I believe that a good portion of the things that ail me are a result of the fact I'm extremely unhealthy right now.  Granted, I rarely drink and I quit smoking over a decade ago. The only drugs I take or ones the doctors prescribe. I see a therapist regularly to help me deal with the ups and downs of life, as well as to help me interpret my husband. 

I say interpret, because I swear we speak different languages sometimes and my therapist is excellent at Manterpretation.  And no, you may not have his name and number, because he is totally fucking excellent and I don't want anybody infringing on his availability to me.  (Lol)

Hopefully I'll be able to honor my commitment here, because what I'm getting at is that I'm going to be posting my journey on my blog. I hope to succeed, but I imagine there will be some failures along the way, because even though my husband tells me that I think I'm always right, I know it's not true.

Feel free to comment, offer encouragement, cry on my shoulder, commiserate, and any thing else you feel like adding along the way.  And if you would like to join me in the efforts, I would be honored.

Here's my first entry:

 

Ps. Don't judge the hair and makeup....I work outside and I'm sickly, so cut a sister some slack!

Making A Life Changing Decision..... fun! fun! fun!

Hello, everyone!  This is my first post of 2014 because it took me this long to find the courage to write it.  Actually, the writing part is easy.  It's that some of the photos that are a bit traumatizing.  They're not so flattering.

Last July I downloaded a bunch of photos from my camera and I saw THIS little bit o' hideousness:

I looked at it and thought, "What in the hell have I become?"  There were multiple photos of me with my mom and Allie and each one was worse than the next!  I have a truly hellacious one that I'll save for later.

I started looking through other photos and NOTHING was appealing.  It all was bad, bad, bad.  At 2am, I found myself feeling like I was going to explode.

I had tried every diet, program, regimen, support group out there, with the exception of Phen-Phen.  I was too scared to do that.  However, I wasn't too scared to be a part of research!  I participated in a "clinical trial" testing a new diet medication that was supposedly holistic.  I hope for their sake that I was part of the control group! On a business trip I tried Xenadrine and nearly had a heart attack in my hotel room.  Anyway, if you want to throw a "program" name at me, go ahead..... chances are really good that I tried it.

So, back to 2am.

On the side of a webpage was an ad for Take Shape For Life.  What was that?  It was something new.  New to ME that is.  It's been around for eons.  I clicked on the ad and read everything I could find on it.  This was literally my last chance.  There was nothing else.

As I told Justin about this in the morning, I started to cry.  I didn't want to be a fat person anymore.  I didn't want my daughter to be embarrassed by me.  I wanted to be able to keep up with her and not feel exhausted.  I didn't want to be out of control anymore.  I didn't want to be so disgusted by myself that I didn't look in the mirror when I got out of the shower  anymore.  I didn't want to be so ashamed that I didn't even want my husband to hug me anymore.

So, I enrolled in Take Shape For Life and BAM!  A miracle occurred.

I lost weight.  For the first time ever I lost more than 8 pounds and it felt easy.  At first it was a little challenging, but let me just say that when you get on your scale and the numbers keep going down, you don't want to quit.  I was skeptical that this was going to be a permanent change, but the numbers kept getting smaller!  When I saw that I was 25 pounds lighter, I was doing the forbidden dance of joy all over my living room.

As most people know (because I didn't shut up about it), I got sick at the end of September.  I had to make a number of changes in my medication and what I was eating.  By the end of December I was so eager to get back to Take Shape For Life that I couldn't wait for January to start so I could jump back into the lifestyle.

And from September to January, I gained 4 pounds.  That's it.  Keep in mind that there were those two holidays that provide an endless supply of baked goods during that time.  And I did actually eat some.  But I had learned so much beforehand that I had actually changed my eating habits, which is one of the main goals, and I didn't spiral out of control.

On January 1st, I went back on the program and lost the 4 pounds plus another 3.  Seven pounds and the month isn't even over yet.  It took me EIGHT MONTHS to lose that on Jenny Craig.

I know you're thinking that this is all one big sales pitch, but it's not.  I'm actually training to be a TSFL Health Coach because #1) My coach (an awesome, inspiring guy named Justin in California) played an enormous part in my success and he thought I had the ability to do the same for other people  #2) I truly believe in this.  It works!  I'm proof and I want other people to know about it.

You can take it or leave it.  That's up to you.  But I'm only half way to my goal and if you would like to join me in losing weight and becoming healthier, I'd love the company and I'd love for us all to support each other.  I have an incredible group in California who opened their arms to me and they are always willing to welcome new people for encouragement (or if you just want to bug out about something).  I love them.

Next week, I'll be doing a Grand Opening of sorts.  If you know anyone who may be interested in joining me, or if you are interested, please let me know.  Call, email, text, Facebook me.  Smoke signal, pigeon carrier, and snail mail are also welcome.  :-)  You'll see more information next week.  Wish me luck!!

(Note: I will be continuing with my pet sitting business, for those of you who wondered!   How could I ever leave???)

In the meantime, here are some more photos of my big "Expedition To Health/Departure From FattyBoomALattyVille"

Me and Allie June 2013.  I felt like my face was almost a perfectly round circle!

This is me with Allie in September 2013, exactly 2 months after I started

This is the truly disgusting one I mentioned.  My thighs were so big that they started touching each other half way up my legs.  I realized at this point that my arms were not made for polo shirt sleeves either.

I can  no longer wear these pants without them falling off when I walk.  I have a huge collection of "vintage" Tommy Hilfiger jeans in size 14 if anyone is interested.  I used to have to do squats in these to "loosen them up" so I could sit down without making myself sick from the tight waistband

This tank top was usually too short to tuck in from my "fat rolls" around my waist.  On the second half of my journey, I plan on getting rid of the final roll and getting everything else a bit more toned.

If you clickity click on the banner below, it will seem like nothing happened, but it did!  You can close the window as soon as it opens if you like.  T'anks peeps!

The Babies = Weight Loss Theory

Where did this past week go?  It's like a big blur to me.  I know stuff happened, but I can't remember much beyond talking to furry beings for a good part of my day.  Oh, wait!  I do recall some nice weather.  Thank you Mother Nature for showing some mercy.

Operation Fattypants is still in effect.  Eight pounds gone.  I'd say "lost" but I'm not planning on looking for them.  This isn't a cat.  8lbs have vacated the premises and no one is in hot pursuit.  No one is going to be putting a photo of those 8lbs on the side of a milk carton with MISSING and REWARD IF FOUND printed near them.  (Do they even do that "missing persons on a milk carton" thing anymore?)

For the first time since I was pregnant, I got on the scale and the second number has changed to a rarely seen digit.  Prior to that, I hadn't seen that number since 1997.  A whole other century ago!  Way way back in the olden days.

Now, some of you might be scratching your heads.  That last paragraph was confusing in regards to the timeline.  I can explain.

26 years ago I weighed ABC.  After that, I "blossomed" up to ADC.  There was this whole Every Diet Known To Man experiment that I had going on for about 23 years where.... um... nothing happened.  Stationary/static fatness.

Then I got pregnant.  

I was determined that I was not going to be a woman who had a baby, gained 80lbs, and then spent the next 10 years blaming pregnancy and birth for being a chubster.  The doctor gave me one speech about weight.  ONE.  He said, "This is not an excuse to eat everything under the sun.  You're eating for one pregnant woman.  NOT two people.  One. pregnant. woman.  I'm not going to mention your weight to you again unless there's a problem.  If I don't say anything, consider yourself within healthy limits."  That was all I needed to hear.

This is where my occupation began working with me physically.  (It took long enough!)  I was walking all day while carrying this little package I couldn't put down.  To boot, this additional human being was sucking up 500 of my calories by just existing.

I gained twenty-one pounds.  For the first time in my life, my doctor was telling me that I was the poster child for healthy weight.  With a BMI of seven trillion for the past two decades, I sucked up every one of those pats on the back and beamed like a beacon.  I was so damn proud of myself.

Allie was born and a month later I got on that scale and saw a number I hadn't seen since I was twenty-five!  What followed was what any other woman in disbelief would do after weighing herself. 

I got off of the scale, shook it, put it back on the floor and got on it again.  Same number.

I took the scale into another room, stood on it and stared at the number.  Then I stepped off, flipped the scale over, took the batteries out to reset it, and tried weighing myself again.  Hot damn!  Could it be?

It was a joyous moment!  

It didn't last.  

Why?  I have no idea!  If I knew why it didn't last, you would be reading my New York Times Best Seller book on weight loss right now instead of my One-in-a-sea-of-a-kajillion-blogs ramblings.  

I can confirm that eating was involved.  That definitely contributed to the weight gain.  (Imagine that.)  I just don't know what happened between the joyous scale moment and me stuffing my face with reckless abandon.  Whatever occurred was a trigger to make me go from happy to porky ASAP.  That trigger is my enemy.  It does not want me to be healthy.

But my Little Peanut does.

Considering that one of the driving forces behind creating and implementing Operation Fattypants has been Allie, as well as the fact that she also helped me achieve this weight three years ago, I have come to the conclusion that babies contribute to weight loss.  Yup.... babies equal weight loss.

Can you imagine trying to prove that crazy theory?  REAL scientific conclusions get destroyed all of the time, and those ones actually have diagnostic information and endless experiments to back them up.  I'm just taking a shot in the dark with this one.  It's my own personal theory.  I'm nuts, so it's only fitting that my theory is as bonkers as I am.

Before I wrap this up, I wanted to share two photos.  After wondering what in the hell I actually did last week, I picked up my phone and tried to find some evidence.  Here's what I came up with....

Apparently my love of shoes has been passed down to the next generation.  I wasn't paying attention to what was going on behind me while getting ready one morning.  Suddenly, I hear "Mummm! Rook!" (that's what Mom, look! sounds like with that stupid binky in her mouth) I turned around and there was Allie wearing a pair of my strappy cork-wedge sandals.  She took two beautifully graceful steps..... and then face planted into the wall.  But those two steps were clearly indicative of someone with a natural love for cute, yet uncomfortable foot apparel!  I AM PROUD.

Last but not least, I found this (above) hanging on the wall at a customer's house this weekend.  It stopped me in my tracks.  I took a moment to read it and think about it.  As I walked down the stairs, I thought, 'What a great world it would be if things like that were hung in random places all over the place.'  We would walk around corners and find words of wisdom about all sorts of things.  

The question is, would we stop to read them?  Probably not here in New York.  Someone would steal 'em.

Survival and Surveillance

I survived Hell Week.  Survived.

It was a gazillion degrees out there.  I think God was having a little fun with me by matching the temperatures to my nom de la semaine (name of the week).

(That one year of French in high school paid off right there, didn't it?)

And The Big Guy Upstairs didn't let up.  Oh no.  The boiling temps hung around right up until my work schedule let up on Sunday afternoon.   Suddenly, it was positively delightful at 80 degrees with clouds and breezes.

I managed to stick with my little dietary change through it all..... despite the ice cream place at the top of the mountain calling my name every time I drove past..... which happened to be six times each day.  Six times of me yelling "I DON'T WANT ICE CREAM SO PLEASE STOP!" at the top of my lungs to nobody.

Unfortunately, I had a tiny taste of heat stroke due to a drop in blood sugar on two separate occasions (because I like to make sure that I learn my lessons well by repeating them until I'm 100% that I've f*cked up).  The weather people stressed high water consumption, but failed to mention that eating enough food was a skoatch important as well.  Things got yucky.  Dizziness, nausea, headache, etc. 

One afternoon I couldn't remember an entire hour spent outside.  It was as if i had been asleep the whole time.  I was completely freaked out.  I was in the middle of filing a phone claim (because that's what you should do when all of your faculties aren't workin' up to par) when I realized I was speaking English, but wasn't making sense.  I remember the fella saying, "Ohhhh!  Now I get it!" about 10 minutes into the call. ( I gave him a big fat Excellent rating in the survey at the end of our call.  He earned it.)
  

So, despite my little food faux pas, I walked over 75,000 steps, almost 38 miles, and lost 5lbs.  Operation Fattypants is still in effect.  Slow but steady wins the race, right?

Every time I look across the street I'm so grateful for the pool.  Even the kiddie pool that's heated by baby piddle.  A few days last week, we found time to schlep on over to cool our stuff off and let Allie splash around.  I love watching her with her little floaty thing on,  swimming around all willy nilly with no purpose or direction..... just like a baby duck.

The other day we had a genetic A-HA! moment at the pool.  The photo below was taken right after we had that.

On patrol

Let me preface this by saying that my mother should've been a private detective.  She would tell you that it's her ADD, but I think that her observation skills have been honed partially by her love of people watching, her natural curiosity about the unknown, and then maybe a little ADD mixed in with a sprinkle of OCD.

If a stranger drives past our area, conversation ceases, she'll get a kinda squinty, snap into PI mode and start with the questions.  Observational questions.  Many questions.  There's no distracting her.

"Who is that?  Do you know that person?  I've never seen them before.  Which way are they going?  Is that a friend of (insert neighbor name here)? They were going pretty fast, don't you think?"

We tease her about it, but I do find it endearing.  Not to mention that we shouldn't mock her considering this skill could be quite beneficial should there be a crime within 300 feet of my mother's existence.  She will be watching, getting the deets, and writing them down in a little notebook somewhere for the police to refer to.

Back to the story.

We were in the pool and the lifeguard got up and started doing his thing and then BAM!  The P.I. genetics kicked in.   For some reason, she was very suspicious about the life guard and every single one of his actions.  Allie got all squinty-eyed, honed in on the poor guy and, suddenly, she was my mother.

"What he doing?"  (he was putting away discarded pool noodles)

"He's cleaning up."

"Why?"  (what a surprise that question is.  not.)

"Because that's his job."

"Why he doing THAT?" (now he was moving an umbrella)

"To block the sun."

"Why?"  (again.  love that question.  ugh.)

"Because it's hot and he should be in the shade."

She just dead on stared at him.  He sat back in his chair looking everywhere but at her.  He knew she was watching.  You could see that he found it amusing... and creepy at the same time.

"Now what he doing?"  (he was getting the net to skim the baby pool)

"He's getting a net to get bugs out of the pool."

"Why are there bugs in the pool?"  (I feel my chest tightening)

"Because they like the pool water, I guess."

"What is he checking that white thing for?"  (the cover to the filter)

"To see what's in the filter."

"**I** want to see what's in the filter!"  (starts splashing toward the stairs)

Oh.  My.  God.

Following up on suspicious activities

This behavior continued the entire time we were at the pool.  We always thank the life guard on duty when we leave, and as we approached him, we told Allie to say thank you.  She held my hand and walked by, never losing eye contact, mumbling "Thank you" quietly.  I was waiting to see her do the two fingered gesture that says, "I'm watching you. These eyes are watching you."

(Just in case you weren't sure what I was talking about)

If anyone is looking for someone to do surveillance or back ground checks on people in about 16 years, please give me a call.  I imagine my daughter will be highly skilled in this area by then.  Until then, if you live in my neighborhood, between my mom and Allie, you should sleep well at night.  Things are under control.  You're safe.  (wink)

Fatty Boom-a-Latty

Well, there's nothing that says, "Time to diet, fat ass!" like your two-year old pointing to your stomach while you are in the tub and saying, "Daddy has a big one of those.  But yours is big too!"

There was a moment of confusion there at the beginning.  When she pointed and said "Daddy has a big one of those" I started freaking, thinking 'What in the hell is she looking at down in that area that looks like something her father has????'

I kinda panicked.  "What are you talking about, Al?"

She pointing again toward my lower mid-section.  "Dat!"

"My stomach?"  For once I was hoping someone was talking about my big gut.

"Yep!" she answered, as she giggled.  "Daddy's is bigger but you has a big one too!"

I realized at that moment that she was the only person in this entire world that could say this to me where I wouldn't want to haul off and beat them firmly about the cranial region with a shampoo bottle.

Instead, I was disappointed in myself.  And a bit grateful for her honesty.

Honest Allie from Toddler Tubby Time

There's something about honesty from children that is excusable.  No matter who you are, if a child says something to you that's blatantly true, you can't get angry with them.  You just kind of have to suck it up and say, "You might have something there, kid."  And chances are, their observation is right on the money.

It's when we get older that there is a problem with honesty.  Sometimes, you REALLY need to use that inner filter that you (hopefully) developed when you (hopefully) learned about social sense.  I'm always shocked by people who don't use the filter, but that is usually accompanied by zero social sense..... and the fact is that they don't have a filter.  These tend to be the same people who blame everyone else for why they don't have friends.  They just don't know any better.

Soon the teenage years will kick in, and while the filter is still under construction, Allie will say oodles of Stupid Honest stuff.  You know, the things that kids are going to learn real fast that aren't at all appropriate and may cost you an ass whoopin later if you don't figure out how to stifle it.  I'm sure a lot of it will be directed at me.  She's just warming up right now.

As I watched Allie playing in the tub with her toys, I started to think about my mom and how amazing it is that I'm still alive with some of the Stupid Honest things that I've said to her.  There was one particular moment that I may have inadvertently tested her ability to not murder a human being.

Right now, she's reading this and knowing exactly where I'm going with this and what moment I'm referring to.  

I was a teenager and she was giving me hell for something that I had done.  I probably hadn't cleaned my room despite her seven million requests to do so, hadn't done my homework again, or I had gone somewhere with someone that I was forbidden to be with.  Whatever it was, I'm sure that she was freaking out with good reason.

However, Stupid Honest kicked in and what happened next was driven entirely by a teenage hormonal inability to sense right from wrong.  I looked at her as she took a moment to catch her breath mid-freak-out, and said something to the effect of: 

"You have no idea how ridiculous you look right now."  

And, as I'm sure you've guessed, I wasn't saying this in a proactive, concerned fashion.  It was full of arrogance and obnoxiousness.

Let me pause here a moment to say that my mother is one of the most loving, sensitive, non-violent, caring people I know.  Everything good about me came from her.

She is ALSO a warrior.  She was selling a home, going through an ugly divorce, teaching fifth grade full time, going to college at night to get her Masters Degree, had a son on a ship in the Persian Gulf during a war, and had a daughter graduating high school all at the same time. SIMULTANEOUSLY, people.  No consecutive crap.  All at once.  This was not a woman to get sassy with.

I can't say exactly how things went down after that because I remember being reeeeeeeally scared because I knew I screwed up.  Inside, my synapses were firing like mad and my brain cells were yelling, "Retreat!  Retreat!"  From her words alone, the fear of God was instilled and social sense was developed so that I may never make such a horrific, verbal error again.  I was no longer Stupid Honest.

(Dear Mom, thank you for letting me live past that day.  Love you, Vic)

Right now, Allie is full of innocent honesty and I feel like I should take it to heart.  She says I have a big belly with no malicious intent.  She couldn't care less about my weight.  It's just an observation.

But I don't want to be a mother who can't keep up with her kid.  I don't want Allie to be embarassed because her mom is overweight.  I don't want to set a bad example of what is or is not acceptable health.  

Fortunately, she has two grandmothers who are naturally thin and she appears to have inherited those genes so hopefully she wont spend 25+ years of her life obsessing over her weight like I did.  Hopefully we can keep each other active and fit.  God knows she is well on her way to that, since every day she runs around our yard, all willy-nilly, yelling, "Mommy, run with me!  Chase me!"  And true to my chubbiness, I groan and go, "How about if I just watch?"

At forty I promised myself that I would no longer let the battle of the bulge rule my life.  At forty-one, I feel like I've got a good start with that as I'm not nearly as obsessed as I used to be. And, to be perfectly honest, I have no excuses because there's really no more "diet knowledge" to be found that I haven't already acquired.  So, I'm turning a new corner with a new plan.... and it may or may not work out.  

I'm not putting any specific name to it like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig or Nutrisystem.  I'm calling it Operation Fattypants.  It starts Thursday.  No pressure.  No expectations.  Just trying to be a good example for Allie.  I want to be Queen Skinnypants, but I'll settle for Mom Who Keeps Up.

Game on, flab..... cuz I don't ever want to hear that I've got something bigger than my husband ever again unless she's talking about my boobs!