The Gym Is My Friend

I've recently been in a bit of a funk about my lack of progress in the weight loss department. I've been drinking my water and staying within my calorie range only to have lost 1.8 pounds in three weeks! I've been frustrated to the point of chunking my scale out of the window. Of course, I'm trying to teach my 3 and 4 year old that tantrums are not the way we express frustration so I will show some restraint.

In all honesty, though, it's not the scale that's the root of my frustrations. Instead it's my big fat rumpus that won't allow the scale to move in a downward motion. My poor scale is just an innocent victim is this feud between Skinny LB and Chunky Dunkin' LB.

I've always known that the key to weight loss for me is exercise. I can eat twigs and berries for a month and not lose an ounce. The minute I start exercising regularly, the weight comes off. As long as I go to the gym a few times a week, I can even eat ice cream and lose weight. Simple enough, right??? HOWEVER, I HATE to workout.

Well, it's not really the working out that I hate. It's the act of getting off my tail, putting on two very tight sports bras so that the girls won't hurt anyone, tying my shoe laces, getting into my car, and driving those 5 miles to the gym. If I were one of the Jetson's, I'd be all over the gym every single day. I am a lazy perfectionist -- a walking, talking oxymoron!

But I am not going to allow this "minor" flaw in my genetic make up to keep me fat for the rest of my life. Nope! Thank God for the persistent perfectionist in me! I am going to get my butt to the gym even if my husband has to use a bull whip to get me out of the bed in the morning. (He's a bit kinky so I think he'll probably like that.)

And in all reality, once I'm there it's all good. This morning I watched a few episodes of "Phineas and Ferb" (my kids think I put it on for them) while I rode the bike and the elliptical. I even used the machines and did some crunches. The best part is that I felt won-DER-ful after it was all over. I'm all about feeling good. I hate being in a funk!

In an effort to keep myself motivated, I decided that I needed to get my head in the game. By always proclaiming such disdain for the gym, I've actually made myself believe that it is HELL on Earth. I've got to reprogram my thinking about the place.

I have to psych myself into believing that the gym is my friend. I can think of it as being as wonderful and relaxing as a day spa in the Mediterranean. Even better, that Brad Pitt is spotting me on the equipment. Okay, I know it's a stretch. I'm going to have to work on my visualization strategies. My lazy genes are much more dominant than my perfect genes.

The Mighty Saboteur!

I am the Mighty Saboteur, the arch nemesis of my superhero (and alter ego) Skinny LB! I am able to destroy weight loss goals with a single bowl of ice cream! Fruits and vegetables are no match for the power of my chocolate arsenal. I am here to ensure that Skinny LB is banished! Forever!!!

Okay, so I'm a bit dramatic but... It took me two weeks to lose 1 1/2 pounds. So what do you think I did to "celebrate" my little victory??? I ate ice cream! Not just once, but twice! For the past two evenings I've had a bowl of ice cream before bed. Yesterday, I even tried to save my calories so I could splurge. I guess that's better than going balls-to-the-wall like Wednesday when I went over my calories and fat.

I wonder why I do this to myself. This seems to be a pattern with me. It's like I think of eating right and watching my calories as some type of punishment. Then when I see some results, I feel the need to "reward" myself with the things that I love. Uuggghhhh!!! I totally suck at dieting.

I think while I'm getting the girls analyzed for plastic surgery, I'm going to look into liposuction. Maybe I can figure out a way to get my insurance company to pay for it. Naw, they'll just tell me to get up off my fat ass and hit the gym.

Which leads me to the moral of this story... The only way for me to lose weight is through exercise. I am not good at depriving myself. I am a binger, too, so I tend to binge on that which I am deprived. Currently, that appears to be ice cream.

I guess I should look on the bright side. At least I did make sure it was Breyer's ice cream. According to the book, "Eat This, Not That!", Breyer's is the best choice of ice cream. It doesn't contain all the preservatives or that cancer-causing villain, high fructose corn syrup.

{Careful now; the ADD is kicking in!} Speaking of that, did you know that high fructose corn syrup is in EVERYTHING??? I read somewhere about all the bad effects of the stuff, and wanted to cut it out of our diets. When I started reading food labels, it occurred to me that the stuff is in nearly every item in the grocery store. It is nearly impossible to find a product that tastes good without high fructose corn syrup. We're doomed! And our kids are destined to be FAT!

I'm Going Under the Knife! (WARNING: graphic pics included)

I must preface this post by saying that the pictures shown are not me! They are merely some before and after pictures I found while doing research. They are provided for demonstrative purposes only. Furthermore, this post is intended for mature audiences. Parental discretion is advised.


Now then... I have been contemplating it for awhile, but I'm really going to do it this time! I'm talking about a boob job! I got the okay from my husband and go for a consult at the end of this month. Those of you who know me are probably gasping and wondering "WHAT THE HELL? Aren't those things BIG enough??? She's finally going to put someone's eye out!"





Relax. The girls are just getting a little renovation. I want to have them reduced to about a B cup, and then I'm getting a hydraulic lift kit so that they look like headlights instead of torpedoes. While I'm not quite ready to post some before pics, I'm sure you can visualize the effects of gravity, age, and childbirth. Let's just say, they ain't pretty!





My friend and I were talking recently about young girls and how they take those nice little boobies for granted. They walk around in skimpy tops with which they can't possibly wear a bra. A shelf bra or even a strapless bra are no more than pasties with binding. They offer ZERO support! If you are under the age of 30 with no children and are reading this, take heed and go to a mirror to check out those nice and lovelies. As you look, take into account that the gravitational pull of the universe is at work. With every day that goes by, gravity is working to pull your boobies to the ground. One day you'll wake up and not even recognize them.





I, personally, have never been able to walk around comfortably without a bra. My girls have always been on the gargantuan side. I was unfortunate enough to start wearing a bra when I was in the 3rd or 4th grade. Many girls were envious, but I was just embarrassed. At age 13, I was already sporting a C cup. I hated it!





Which is why I am feeling so jubilant now... I cannot wait to go bra-less!!! Don't worry; it won't be a regular thing for me. Once I get these baby girls looking righteous, I am going to protect them with my life. I'll rub them down with cocoa butter every night and possibly sleep topless so that they can get some fresh air. JP will be so giddy! It will be like Christmas every day.





I'll post the details for the bra-burning memorial bash when all the dates are finalized. With all my size double Ds, it'll be a full fledged bonfire. I may have to get a permit...

Tip #547 - NEVER, EVER, NEVER weigh while PMSing

Okay, so I've been basically starving for the last week or so. Not really, but I haven't gone over my calories. I've even gotten pretty good at lowering the carbs and increasing the protein. Hell, I cooked broiled fish last night, for heaven's sake! This is a BIG.DEAL as I hate fish unless it deep-fried with a thick cornmeal batter and comes with hush puppies on the side! (Great, now my mouth is watering. No wonder folks in the South are so fat!)

So I was feeling a bit brave this morning... I took the plunge and jumped on the scale. Lo' and behold, I'd gained 1/2 a pound! WTH? How is this possible???

Let me preface this by saying that I am DEATHLY afraid of scales to begin with. I was damn near bulimic at one time and obsessed with my scale. I weighed myself constantly. If I went over 110 lbs. (makes me sick just thinking about it), I would eat laxatives and live on SlimFast for a week until I was back under 110.

After college and a few episodes of "Intervention," I realized that bulimia was very dangerous and stopped. I threw the scale in the garbage. For the longest time, I didn't even own a scale. I was too fearful that the purging cycles would continue.

The scale is a good thing and a bad thing, though. Yes, it's bad to obsess but it's also bad to be oblivious (which was my most recent issue). By not weighing, I was unaware of actually HOW FAT I'd gotten. Recently I purchased a new scale so that I might keep track of my progress. Scales are good, right??

WRONG!!! They are BAD, BAD, BAD (to put it in my son's terms)! I know I'm about to start, and I do suffer from severe PMS (probably PMDD). But c'mon... A gain?? Really? It's just not possible! It makes me want to go buy the BIGGEST Reese's-Butterfinger Blast imaginable from Sonic. While I'm there, I might as well get a big, fat cheeseburger too!

Not really, but I'm still pissed. Of course, PMS makes me ill any way so what else is new?

I <3 BOYS!

Since my daughter's been at dance camp this week, I've been able to really spend some time with my son. He's four, and the funniest thing I've ever seen! I laugh so much when I'm with him. Oftentimes, he has no idea why I'm even doing it. "What's so funny, Mom?" he says.

Watching him play is better than watching any movie! He really gets into character. Some days he's Scooby; other days he's Mickey Mouse. He could be Jack Sparrow or Peter Pan. Sometimes he is a combination of a few characters all rolled into one like Super Hero, Pirate Mickey, in his Mickey pjs wearing a pirate hat and a cape. He never runs out of story lines. The boy is good!

Yesterday, he combined Sheriff Woody with Handy Manny by sporting his Woody hat and his tool belt. And the day before, he became Shaggy, the Fireman, with his goggles, fire hat, and a play tire iron. When he was Special Agent Oso, he packed a suitcase with a roll of duct tape, his green crocs, and his goggles. Those were his spy gadgets needed for his assignment.

In the bath at night, he likes to play Super Heroes. He brings a Batman, a Spiderman, and any other "Super Hero" he can find including Mickey Mouse, Goofy, Diego, and Buzz Lightyear. Of course, he is always the Super Hero who swims. He puts his black goggles on (he LOVES those goggles!), climbs into our big garden tub nearly filled to the top with water, and explores the ocean while helping his friends.

How can someone so small have an imagination so big?? My daughter pretends a lot, but she tends to mimic real people. Not my little boy, though. It has to be an action-packed adventure filled with unicorns and goblins and giant gorillas! It must be fun to live in his world. Although I'm not in it, I can envision it from the sidelines.

Buzz Lightyear saving a fairy princess!

Shaggy, the firefighter and rescuer

Shaggy here to save the day!

More Chez LB

Ta-Da!!!

Over the weekend, I hit the fabric store and got my sewing machine out. I love cute boutique clothing for my kids, but I'm sick of paying so much money! Since Miss High Maintenance was in dance camp this morning, I finished two projects. I found a very cute custom-made pattern, but it was a bit more cumbersome than the factory ones I've tried. G's pants didn't turn out EXACTLY as I wanted, but they still look cute. Oh, and I also learned to applique (gotta LOVE Google)! Check out my appliques on the Wally World tees. This type stuff sells like hot cakes on eBay. Too bad I'd rather stab my eyeballs out than sew for someone else (unless it was a good friend, of course)!

Here's Mr. E in his octopus ensemble. The shorts are made of a navy gingham poly-cotton. The red shirt cost about $4 at Walmart. I made an octopus applique with the same gingham used on the shorts.

Here's G in her fru-fru pants and coordinating top. Again, the top cost about $4 at Walmart. The applique is made of the same material as the pants. (Please excuse the messy house. I'm sewing - not cleaning house!)

I can feel my mom smiling on me now. She's so proud!! :-)

Temptation Island

After spending the morning at the zoo, we decided to stop for lunch. I personally had Subway in mind, but no! My husband wanted the buffet at CiCi's Pizza. When he voiced his desire, of course the kids were like, "OH, YEAH!" Great...here we go.

I mean, Subway cannot compete with CiCi's and it's big screen TV and video games. There are barely enough chairs in Subway for a family of four to actually sit down and eat. Let's face it. Subway is downright boring. My husband and kids outnumbered me so I gave myself a Vince Lombardi-type pep talk and off to CiCi's we went.

First, can I tell you that my husband makes me sick? He is 6'4" and 195 lbs. after a really big meal! The man eats anything and everything. His two favorite people in the world are Dolly Madison and Little Debbie. We are so like the couple in the SlimQuick commercials. It is true! He cut back on soft drinks once, and lost 20 freakin' pounds! I switched to diet drinks years ago, and am still waiting on my reward.

When we get to CiCi's, he stayed true to himself and ate about 40 pieces of pizza plus 8,000 varieties of dessert. Me?? It hurt, but I went for the salad bar. I use the term salad bar loosely as there wasn't much more than lettuce and olives. But I was determined. I sucked it up and got the salad with unsweetened (YUCK! Why is this even served in the South?) tea.

I felt like I was on Temptation Island, though. Remember that show?? According to the FOX website: Four couples tested their commitment in this hormonal reality series set in a tropical paradise packed with the requisite sexy singles. The couples were separated from their significant others and sent on dates with compatible partners. The dates were then videotaped and observed by the person's loved one.

So basically, they took these couples "in love" and in very serious relationships, put them on beautiful, but separate, islands with barrels of liquor and droves of hotties, and made them go out on dates with the aforementioned hotties. All this to test their love for one another. Did I mention there was lots of alcohol involved??? I watched that show every season (fine, I've outed myself ) and never saw a relationship survive.

That pizza buffet was like putting me on an island with 4,000 Brad Pitt look-a-likes and an Olympic-size pool filled with Jungle Juice. (This is where you imagine the theme from Rocky...) Only in my version of Temptation Buffet, I prevailed! I stayed away from those yummy, gooey apple cinnamon pizza things. I didn't even glance at the chocolate brownies or the big, fat, juicy supreme pizzas. Okay, maybe I glanced...but I was still triumphant. As much as I love Brad Pitt and jungle juice, I held strong.

One small step towards a slimmer mid-section, and one giant step for ME! Bring on Brad Pitt and the booze! (Just kidding... That would even be hard for a tough girl like me.)

Nightmares in Babysitting

Okay, so I went to my reunion last weekend. I'm still depressed; some of my friends looked like supermodels; I look like a cow in all the pictures; my husband keeps talking about how hot some of them were, all the while professing his undying love for me; blah, blah, blah... Same blog, different day.

I won't drone on and on about it. I did have a great time with my old girlfriends. And I'm, once again, on a diet. 'Nuf. Said.

Speaking of the weekend, though, I must explain the babysitting situation. My kids are only three and four so I did not feel comfortable leaving them over the weekend with someone. Instead, we decided to bring them along with a babysitter. That way, the kids would get to spend some more time with my dad and get ANOTHER little vacation. (Although they've been partying like rock stars since school let out!)

We rented a big three bedroom condo near the beach so that everyone would have their space, and my husband called the mother-in-law to see if she wanted to go as the babysitter. Of course, this was before we actually thought things through. (That's one thing about my husband that makes me crazy. He will always DO something during the planning phase. I prefer to lay out my plans, ponder them, make adjustments, then take action. Not him! He will do and do and do over again just for the sake of doing. Drives me crazy, but I'll save that for a future post.)

After further consideration, I wanted our regular babysitter to go along. She is awesome; the kids love her. Even better, we love her too. When my husband heard my idea about bringing our regular babysitter, he agreed and was actually looking forward to the trip. She always plays with the kids, and they have a great time.

On the contrary, my MIL considers flopping her big ass in the recliner and yelling at the kids all day real babysitting. Don't get me wrong. I, too, like to flop my big ass in the recliner and shout orders. However, I'm the mom -- not the babysitter! Besides that, she eats us out of house and home!

The babysitting job sounds like a no-brainer, right? So what's the problem, you ask? HOW DO WE CANCEL THE SERVICES OF THE MIL???

Prior to the trip, my poor husband (bless his heart) tried to convince MIL that going to the Coast for a weekend with the kids was going to be tough work. He reminded her of the tropical climate. He told her there would be a lot of walking. He reminded her that she was only going to babysit so the trip would not be a real vacation. The "sales job" went on for weeks. Unfortunately, he's not much of a salesman.

Against my better judgment, we took the MIL to babysit while we went to the reunion activities. The whole time she kept wondering when we were taking her out to eat. Then we had to drive to the beach although it was less than a block away. In fact, she wanted us to drive to the pool that was merely 50 yards away!!! To make matters worse, the kids were cranky due to lack of sleep. She called my son a Cry Baby, and I wanted to rip her head off!!! How did she expect them to sleep when she was on the phone all night gossiping so loudly that the folks in Timbuktu could hear her?

Oh, but it doesn't end there. One of the main reasons for a babysitter is because we were going out until late with friends. I knew I'd be drinking, and didn't want to have to deal with kids in the morning. However, MIL wanted to sleep until 10 a.m. and my oldest got up at 5:30 a.m. She'd send him in our room so my husband got up. Needless to say, JP was packed and ready to roll back to the house by 6:30 a.m. on Monday. Even my kids were looking forward to being back home without MIL.

After bashing her so badly, I guess I should mention some good points. When one of our kids is sick and we can't possibly take off work, she's ready and willing to babysit. When I had my 2nd child, she drove through a snow storm to my house so that she could keep my oldest. While I was caring for my dying mother, she stayed with the kids as my husband worked. That woman loves our kids. In addition, she's all they got!

That doesn't mean I'm retracting my previous comments, though.